AN: This chapter came after a good bit of hard work and a prayer or two. I'm more than pleased with the results, and I hope you all enjoy the chapter.

Pagliacci-11

Chapter 82

It had been a very eventful weekend for Ulrich. His mother's fashion work had gained traction among the lower-level fashionistas and sponsors of Marseilles. Suffice to say, Ulrich's mom was more than content as the last few months had been a lot of work for her concerning work, and as they came through the doors of her new home from the trip, both gladly prepared for bed.

Ulrich sighed as he lay down on his bed, "Tomorrow, I have the meeting with Sylvia and her group. I already know what to expect to a point. But I won't know until I enter the place." He groaned, "She's overhauled the monsters; that's a bad enough sign, but I noticed there were particular elements she changed. She went from machines to biological and vice-versa. Sylva's even made hybrid models, but—" Ulrich massaged his temples; the very premise was giving a headache. "Forget it, tomorrow I'll see what to expect."

Meanwhile, Odd was in his room, and he was slowly growing hopeful for the discussion tomorrow. He entered the shower at Aulamerta's main dorm, and as he cleaned off, he contemplated what he had seen in Lyoko just two days ago. Herve, the reworked monsters, all of it. Odd very well knew what had happened to Herve. As he'd tried to explain to the group, such a drastic change had to have been a want by Herve himself. This was evidence by how far Sylvia went with his transformation.

Odd remembered several of the more passive implementations and augmentations to others of North-Gate's team. They were by no means on the surface, but Sylvia had indeed bolstered them. Either by boosting their I.Q. and making some of them genuinely scholastic exemplary soldiers or by enhancing their endurance and physical pain thresholds, Sylvia didn't operate outside the realms of ethics in so far as that was concerned. From what he'd been privileged to see of North-Gate, everything from its soldiers to its weaponry and tools to advance its cause were both simple but effectively streamlined for maximum efficiency.

Odd hoped that Ulrich would be more than understanding with what was transpiring and that despite what he and Aelita had seen in Lyoko, Ulrich would at least give Sylvia the benefit of the doubt and see where she was coming from. As Odd saw it, Sylvia was far from the monster many believed her to be and was doing her best with what she was presented in the situation and trying to work with it.

Odd finished his shower, and as he headed back to his dorm, he felt a bit more at ease than he'd been earlier in the morning. He'd worn his head sore as he racked his brain, considering the outcomes of what the conversation was going to be like when finally, he decided that what would be would be, and he wouldn't wear the rest of his brains on it out about it.

Odd turned and entered his dorm room. Turning on his radio, he plugged in his headphone, and he listened to the lyrics of the song on the station,

Jocko said no, when I came back last time

It's looking like I lost a friend

No use callin' 'cause the sky is fallin'

And I'm getting pretty near the end

A smoke-filled room in a corner basement

The situation must be right

A bag of goodies and a bottle of wine

We're gonna get it on right tonight

Odd changed the station, and he found something more his speed, Techno. However, he knew it was that time of day where the station was toning down before ramping up again for the evening. Right now, the music was far more of a lounge feel or a new-age business setting as Odd liked to think of the workplace of the future as being.

As he relaxed with the music on his bed, he thought of Pauline, his sister. He wondered how she became as she did, very cold, very stoic with time. In many ways, he'd always thought her the favorite of his parents. However, as he'd overheard her talking to a friend of hers, Odd was the favorite of their parents and she'd even used the phrasing. It was used in such a form of disdain that was a mixture of dismissive as she couldn't fight and frustration. He'd listened to her, and the truth of the situation became more evident as he'd reflected on the conversation.

"Mom and dad protected him from everything, everything, Elise!" she'd said under a hushed tone, "Look out for Odd, Pauline, watch out for Odd, Pauline. Make sure that you of all your sisters teach him right from wrong because we're busy with our own flamboyant and frivolous adventures for our careers. No more! This is the last favor I do for them."

Odd listened to the whole discussion, more one-sided as it was, given Pauline's propensity to rant like a madwoman at times of stress.

"What do you think my sisters and I care that we have to look after the baby? Hell no! So, we have him the hard lessons of life early; we endeavored to make an honest man out of him. He wishes to emulate Dad in his jiggolo lifestyle; okay, we taught him the ups and downs of such a lifestyle on a very personal level. No less, mom and dad had received reports from the old scarecrow, Delmas, about his conduct with the girls. So, our lessons may have worked; they may not have. At the same time, why is it usually the three of us who have to shoulder our parents' responsibility? Why?

Had our dad wrapped his shit up, we wouldn't be dealing with this scenario. However, daddy doesn't like the feeling of condoms, so we're all kinda' fucked regardless. Who knows how many bastards he has? Never mind the chemical reject under my roof. Ugh! It's just beyond frustrating having to deal with their demands repeatedly how to help him all the damn time. He's not a limp-dick retard, so why indulge the little fuck as they do?"

Odd grew in anger as he remembered the entire conversation. Oh, the rage he felt was growing immense, so much so, he was slowly seething with rage.

Suddenly, he heard Sylvia's voice in his head, "Odd, that's enough."

He spoke aloud, "I can't help it! They—"

"I don't care what they've done, and soon, my dear brother. You won't care. Listen to me. The monsters who formed you, much as mine, they will be but a distant memory of your pain, a steppingstone of agony that was crucial for things better to come."

Odd growled, and he heard her voice again, "Odd, you know I'm right with this. Don't focus so much on the pains of the past. Learn from my example, please, and simply treat your pain as steppingstones. The pain of growth is something I'm more than aware of, I assure you. However, you can't let the pain control you to the point overly influential."

"I can't help but feel anger, so much of what they did to me! Do you understand that?! I know what your mother did to you, but imagine it being so much worse."

"I need not imagine, my darling dart. I already know what they have done to you to your detriment. They will be dealt with in the courts of justice in due time. I ask you not to focus on this right now, for if you push the issue, you will be put to the test. For all your anger and wrath, your resolve will be immensely tested if you persist in anger. Do you understand?"

Odd calmed down as best he could; he knew the weight of her words. He already knew how Sylvia had dealt with the traitor Amy before he'd joined. It was a fate he wouldn't wish for anyone, especially his flesh and blood, despicable as they could be.

"Look, I just want some vindication, you know?" Odd asked as he sighed, sitting down.

"I more than understand that, but now is not the time. Vindication comes for all of those who are with North-Gate, be it minimal or major; they all get their fill. Even those of us act as the vindicators, particularly of justice, as is your present want. Now, this can happen; this will happen. But for now, please hold fast and be patient."

Odd sighed, "Sylvia, may I ask a question?"

"Of course."

"What do you intend to do with Lyoko? Before I left, you were undergoing—"

"Odd, I already know where you're going with this. Unfortunately, you departed from us at a key juncture of our operations. Suffice to say; you're no longer privy to that information. But, I will answer your question as to what was, not what is. You see, on some level, the sectors are used to gauge human awareness, societal acceptance, revolution, and rebellion. We have tested and worked on all manner of things since your absence having to retract a few things.

But Lyoko is merely the testing ground; it is far from our real-world counterparts, although it is made as accurate as can be with our variables of experimentation. Apart from that, it is all I can tell you. I know you wish for Ulrich and your friends to see what I've shown you. But it is not our way, nor the way of North-Gate to force compliance. You will either choose North-Gate or you won't, and it's that simple. What comes of your choices will be shown in due time. But as of your recent actions, I cannot rust you yet with select truths as much as I did before. Do you understand?"

Odd nodded, "Yes, Ma'am. But concerning Ulrich, he's my best friend. Can you please give him time to mull over what is said tomorrow and digest it?"

"Absolutely, and because you asked so nicely, I will more than do so. I don't wish to force my view on anyone. Those who accept, accept while those who don't won't. So, there's that. But I'd advise you not to agonize yourself over what is to come for those who do not accept. Their fate hinges on their choice, and from that, there are provisions and parameters to enact.

So, get ready for bed, we have a long day ahead of us. By the way, so I can be sure of what to order, what would you like to eat for lunch?"

Odd thought a moment and replied, "Cheeseburger with smoked Gouda cheese as a topping, bacon, fire-braised tomato, a garlic, and butter sauteed bun with a side of hand-cut fries with gringo sauce and a cold sprite."

"Very well, I shall see you tomorrow at noon."

At North-Gate's facility, Terry was reluctantly packing his grip to head home. As he packed, he saw Claiborne passing in the hallway. "Hey, Clay," He called out.

The dapper man popped his head into the doorway and asked, "Yes, Terry?"

"A word with you, please."

Claiborne came into the room and asked, "Yes, Terry?"

"I received word I was being transferred and with very little notice. You're the head of our H.R. Can you please explain why?"

"The High-Commander saw it in her priority to send both you and Maria back home. She said that Maria is combat fatigued from long-term service, and she knew that sending you with her would help ease the transition."

"Clay, I've put so much work into Sylvia's council and work, I don't want to leave!"

Claibourne nodded, "Mm, I'll mention it to her, and you may have a final appeal. She will have her terms as expected, but if you wish to stay on board in the field, please let her know upon request. Maria can be sent to our care clinic back home for our vets.

Really, Maria needs plenty of R&R. She's well-exhausted, and I think despite the progress we've made with her physical therapy regarding her bionics is not to be ignored. However, she's still getting over the trauma of what happened. In reality, our commander had her back on her feet double-quick to keep you from feeling alone, and so, it's natural for her mind to not be fully healed. Painkillers and healing supplements, no matter how good and powerful, are much like the return to the past; you're giving a band-aid to a bullet wound that will gush in due time."

Terry replied, "I understand Clay, but I promised her father I'd oversee her progress to the end. Send Maria to the clinic; I can patch things up with her far easier than if I left this work mid-op. Especially at our crucial juncture."

Claiborne nodded, "She'll be touched you think so highly of your promise; you can be sure of that. Alright, I'll go to her immediately. Tell her exactly what you've said to me, and I know she'll be amenable." Claiborne turned promptly and left.

Within fifteen minutes, Sylvia's voice was heard in Terry's implant, "I've heard what our Clay has to say. Come up, and we'll talk."

Once he'd explained everything in terms of how he felt, Terry sat and waited for Sylvia's response. She breathed herself for a time and then she spoke.

"Terry, I'm deeply touched you wish to stay this long. Your dismissal will be halted for the time being, but you will be assigned until select vetting is finished to our training wing under Rook. He will help you gain the strength and endurance you will require for the upcoming missions. You're well already, but you need to be better. So, you will be relocated to Minsk, and from there, you will receive my decision.

Maria will be sent home to Honeysuckle Cottage. It is there she'll receive her relaxation under Claibourne's recommendation. Her replacement is already here, and you will be allowed back in to make introductions pending my vetting of you. In the meantime, in the field, you will be replaced by our up-and-coming recruit through integration."

Terry nodded, "Wise choice. Alright, I'm confident we'll be alright then while I'm gone. But may I ask, what is my specialty to be?"

"You will be one of our true insiders in the key junction operations coming up. I will send you mission specifics as you need to know them, and you will be given dossiers of who and what to study for preparation for surveillance."

"Very well, High-Commander."

Sylvia nodded, "You may go."

Claibourne watched Terry leave, and he asked, "You know he can trusted. What is the plan going forward?"

"As I have said, we will vet him, and once our immediate danger has passed, we will reinstate him. He will undergo training. In the meantime, we will proceed with Maria's transit home. Her replacement more than measures up; I have tested her myself. Now, until such time, I want you to proceed with Dual-Serpent Sword. Once we have released our findings to particular firms and gauged their reactions in private, not just public, then we will make our first strikes on the corporate sector.

Our evidence must be overwhelming to justify such a strike, and until then, we will do fieldwork, recruiting those already in bed with our target companies and, after striking at the heart of their fears make soldiers from our enemies. Have Heidi proceed with mass production of the Veholos Strain first and see what happens. Minor use of this is all that is needed to gauge what we are here to assess. A smaller dose still of more powerful strains will be the capstone for the final verdict."

Claiborne nodded, "Understood, High-Commander." He saluted and she returned the salute before he departed.

Claiborne stopped by the training venue, where he saw Magali hard at work and enjoyed the integration prospect.

He came alongside Frankie, who was overseeing this portion as the team was taking this training oversight in turns, "How's she doing?"

"Her precision is vastly increasing, and her maneuverability with the unit is also markedly improved. The weaponry, which she's made modifications to, is highly precise, and she is quite capable of crowd suppression. It's quite amazing. I've never seen one so adaptable to this premise."

Claibourne thought a moment, "What's her accuracy?"

"Nine out of ten, on that tenth it was a quick-moving target but afterward, her system adapted, and she obliterated it."

"Ooh, very nice. I can see why the High-Commander wanted her at her side."

Frankie nodded and handed Claiborne a holo-screen, "Her comprehensive breakdown.

As he took note of the report, Claibourne was somewhat satisfied as he read Magali's report, "She'll be ready for raw field-testing soon at this rate."

"She's already prepared for that, Clay. She's been ready for two days. Her preservation methods with her unit are unique, and her precaution per field application is equally unique. Look at her decisions from combat on page three."

Claiborne read page three, and his eyes went wide, "Oh, she's dedicated, that's for sure." He thought. He looked at Frankie, "Where stand we with Icarus?"

Frankie handed him another holo-screen, taking back Magali's. As Claiborne looked over this report, he replied, "Very efficient. How's his body holding up in the isolation chamber?"

"Quite well. Remember, what is seen is not what is. Icarus is fully aware of who he is, but equally, through our enhanced integration process, his power is greatly amplified, albeit within Sylvia's allowance of being so advanced. He's a capable soldier, not near as good as the girl, however. This Magali, she wishes to fight, she wants to destroy things, that's how impacted she is with Sylvia's teachings."

Claiborne watched as Magali perfected her aim and her familiarity with her weapon; he remembered what happened before. He was going to ask a question but refrained. This girl Magali was not the one Clay had known before; he had to remind himself of that. This was Sylvia's chosen, her lancer. Looking at the field reports, he knew very well what had been done for Magali to give her this much motivation to excel.

He handed Herve's holopad back to Frankie and said, "I'll be back."

He went downstairs to the primary medical bay and came to the chamber that was marked with a golden I. He pressed the access code and saw Herve suspended in the chamber. His musculature had developed in his legs and arms, that was necessary for his role. As Clay looked at his face, he saw a look of contentedness on his face. He saw the process Herve was performing as in a separate chamber, a cybernetic body being assembled on a line and line by line with faster and more precise efficiency.

He saw in another chamber the amount of connectivity that Herve had to his primary node; it glowed blue the highest you could ever get, with slight hints of cyan peaking throughout.

Claiborne went to a control panel, and he said into a microphone, "Icarus, I am transferring you from assembly to conflict skills in your extension suit. Transfer beginning in 5, 4, 3, 2, now."

A massive black orb came to life, and inside the tank, Herve extended his hands, and as he did so, the tentacles of the Scyphozoa extended out of the sphere. Claiborne fired up a combat scenario, and as Herve performed his tasks, Clay saw the precision and speed, and power of Herve's mastery of the controls. He was good but not nearly as good as Magali; Frankie was right. But then, he had an idea. Clay had seen Magali's skill at ranged bombardment ordinances, and he gave Herve the same tests, and not too much to his surprise, Herve outperformed, obliterating his targets with precision but ensuring no civilian casualties.

As Clay had concluded, Herve and Magali were designated to specific roles reminiscent of Sylvia's seizure of the capital from Natasha. But if this was the case, Clay knew that Sylvia was truly bringing back the old guard of her military backbone, but if this was the case, why was she preparing the big guns with the resurrection protocol? He thought about this as he was still confused. However, out of the corner of his eye, he saw something, and he directed his gaze down a long dark hallway. A slight bright glow emanated from the back of the hallway. He approached and saw the light disappear just as he had seen it immerge. He'd never seen this before, and he looked up at the hallway label above him, "Preservation."

He picked up a nearby phone and, contacting North-Gate's chief engineer, Mei Wong, asked, "Hello, Dear. I have a question. I saw the light in the Preservation chamber. What's that about?"

"That's classified Clay. Sorry, love. That's for people in my designation only."

The receiver clicked on the other end, and Clay hung up the receiver. He reached into his inner breast-pocket and took out a small packet of Gummy Bears. As he chewed them, he looked at the section termed preservation and then looked at Herve bobbing up and down in the tank.

"We're all soldiers," he thought to himself, "Yolanda was a heavy gunner before she was the pride of the medical field; to earn field exemption, she and countless others had to go through the bloodied slog. But, under Natasha, it was simple, if you weren't strong, you'd better be smart and vice-versa. But to have a preservation element tells me one of two things: Either North-Gate can't be trusted in the hands of one individual, or it can't be trusted on its own. Neither is particularly comforting."

It was now just after nightfall, and Nicolette, after reviewing the battle plans as well as economic reports noticed several notes in the margins by Sylvia's own hand. She read these notes, and as she read, she found a form of thought occurring to Sylvia, and in a way, she couldn't help but express slight admiration and concern in equal measure. However, not wishing to leave this to chance, she headed up to Sylvia's office and knocked at the door.

The door opened, and she saw Sylvia lying perfectly flat on her bed, she had her eyes closed, but Nicolette could tell she wasn't sleeping. The atmosphere in the room was beautiful, the beginnings of a summer's day it felt like. She could smell the faint traces of honeysuckle and lavender in the air. It was oxygen, not scented air, a noted difference. Nicolette could smell, and even taste within the air, the gentle accent of slight metal. She knew very well this particular taste. It was from when Sylvia and North-Gate team had been placed in the countryside on the industrial quadrant's fridges. Nicolette remembered it was an ironworks factory, and the smell, the dirtied tinge was the only thing that disrupted the otherwise open countryside's floral bouquet.

Nicolette gently approached and tapped Sylvia's shoulder. Sylvia grunted slightly as her mediation was disrupted, "Yes, Niki, what is it?"

"Commander, um, I was looking at your notes from the production line out of Murmansk; mind if I ask why you switched over to raw militarized production of our semi-autonomous units?"

Sylvia groaned slightly, but after a contented sigh, she said, "I found it's of no genuine use, Niki. The vision of North-Gate as is tradition won't entirely work. I've crunched the numbers, done a whole bunch of basic breakdown, psychosocial evaluations to the nth degree, and-these humans are too damned stubborn and frankly too damned evil to accept anything good even if you gave it to them.

They are restless beings, Niki. They love violence, love war, and love to fight each other, and when I say they love to do this, they see hatred, pride, conflict, contests, and contention themselves are almost a high art form but more out of hypocrisy than valuing such things as art.

If I were to proceed with this venture as we initially have it lined out, indeed, the Ministry had it lined out; this human race is so filled with mutually contradicting narratives, they'll drive you insane. Despite our best motives and intentions, the Ministry would annihilate these petty kids any day. Equally, if you give them all they could ever want, they'd still find a reason to destroy each other. 'Oh, we're more entitled to this because this; they aren't deserving of this because this;' Sylvia waved her hand in dismissal, "The cycle continues to degrade over time into full-on unending blather of self-justification for the oppression of others."

Nicolette listened and sat down beside the bed, using a small ottoman, "What are your conclusions?"

"The only way to do what you need to be done in this world, as far as this planet of primitive shit-throwers is concerned, is to become a full-on authoritarian dictator. That's the only way to ensure a country, never mind the world, as was my original intent, marches to your tune. I only had to look at the most impoverished nations compared to those with the most buying power to see this for myself.

These people, these not even people," Sylvia grimaced with disgust, "these children. You can never and probably will never get what it's like to unite under one banner and forget their contentions truly. The sad truth is, Niki, Natasha, was right! Oh, my gosh, was she right. You can't make people get along unless you grind them into the earth."

Sylvia got up out of bed, now too perturbed to rest. She continued, "The sad truth, Niki, is that these backward animals at the top are by no means leaders or even good people. Let's look at what I've observed in just a few weeks. I've listened to the devastated, impoverished, the mentally ill; I've reviewed governmental systems of care, I've looked at the true force of power on this little blue ball, and what I've concluded three primitive forces govern this realm of humanity: Greed, Lust, and Power. Greed has sway this season: Looking at every play in history, very few of them have been genuinely altruistic in intent, with countless decisions of kings, queens, chancellors, and presidents being made for profit.

The so-called public health systems, even for the disabled, are all ass-backward. They care more for the physical body than for the mind. After looking at various nations, even the so-called leaders of care and liberty, mental evaluations, mental health isn't given a second thought. The workers are all they desire from the disabled and fully-functioning alike.

Japan's so-called more congenial society is be laden with a suicide rate related to work stress; I've to scare yet see in our operations previous. The so-called great nation of America, the seat of our Terry and our Heidi, complete slave-drivers, every one of them that you have use or relevance, so only as long as you produce. Sadly, such a thought is not exclusive to any party but the view of its own befuddled people. The sad truth, the man or woman of nations who has a chance to look at how their governments gladly bend them over, fucking them six ways from Sunday, they are never allowed to have power or prevalence. This is because they know far too much, standing too great a chance to upset the age-old gravy train.

To have a business is not even to have a conscience, never mind morality! My only conclusion, Niki, is these beings are horrible, absolutely horrible! The poorest nations are all Africa, whose resources have been plundered and taken by the rest of the world until they are left with next to nothing. According to world economists, every other nation as they are ranked with buying power are nations that have been less and less plundered until you come into the countries of the power-swayers.

These swayers either rebuild other nations with the goal of indebtedness or are so unique in their ways of power some countries act as concubines to other nations, providing a luxury or distinct product that makes them unique or through ancestral lineage. Even in ancestral lines of indebtedness, governments who are more advanced never have to worry for their own because they have colonies of slaves and lessers, to this day still doing much of their work away from the actual seats of power.

Then finally comes the penultimate in buying power, Qatar. It is a nation that is a de-facto authoritarian state. That doesn't give a real shit for its people, much like it's less successful ideological Chinese Cousin, but it is just phenomenally better with its press job to the rest of the world."

Nicolette was silent, and she dreaded the answer, but she asked, "And the mission, High-Commander, where do you stand?"

"I've sent out the depth probes to the brokers of the nations, and I will see their response to my pitchmen. Pending what I get back, you will be the first to know the next steps."

"High-Commander," Nicolette said, gently getting up, "I need to know the answer."

Sylvia turned to her, and Nicolette, for the first time since arriving, felt genuine fear, "If the results are as I anticipate, it's open season on the assimilation elements. I'll bring this fucked up hellhole to the light, kicking and screaming as a child will before they are routed and corrected into proper thought. These children and their system of indebtedness and slavery to money have gone on too long. But if they accept, we shall see and pursue the white guard implementation."

Nicolette knew it, she'd had suspicions, but she knew now. She nodded, "Yes, Commander." She left and saw a table on her way out. Taking a moment, she inspected the table, The Economist, reports from the International Trade Commission, and several other publications were ruthlessly marked in highlighting and underlining. In addition to these periodicals, various files were from the civilian plants of North-Gate. Nicolette had forgotten all about them, and their data packets were fully thick with information. Sylvia was just sure of what of her facts through numbers as opposed to guessing.

"What of Stern, High-Commander?" Nicolette asked, "You meet with him tomorrow for lunch."

Sylvia replied, "I'll tell him the evidence and let him chew while my forces get in place. That is all."

Nicolette nodded, "Yes, Ma'am." She left the chamber, and she thought, "God watch over us all."