CHAPTER 22

Martin watched Diana descend the stairs onto the flight deck. He, along with Lorraine and nine other Visitor officers, stood at attention as she walked towards them. They were assembled in the landing bay reserved for the ship's executive staff.

"Diana," he greeted her as she took a place next to him.

She responded with a curt nod.

Everyone's eyes now turned towards the squad ship which had just entered the landing bay. It was maneuvering into its designated parking dock on the flight deck.

"I should have been informed earlier," she said to Martin, irritated.

"My apologies, Diana, but her Mother Ship came in cloaked. We informed you immediately as soon as visual scanning picked her up."

Diana waved him off, but Martin continued. "I'd been in contact with her primary lieutenant, Lydia. She says the Sector Squadron Commander arrived in the Earth system approximately three hours ago and visited John at the Washington, D.C. Mother Ship first before proceeding here."

"I don't appreciate these surprise visits," Diana said under her breath. "Particularly by this particular Sector Squadron Commander."

Interesting, Martin thought.

Perhaps Diana and Pamela have a history together.

I wonder how much Diana would reveal if I pressed her about this…

The flight deck's P.A. klaxons came to life. "Attention, all personnel. Sector Squadron Commander's shuttle has landed."

As the announcement echoed in the landing bay, the newly-arrived shuttle's portside hatch yawned open. Immediately after the entry ramp touched down on the flight deck, a pair of Security troopers exited the craft.

Seconds later, Pamela descended the ramp. She had adopted the appearance of a woman in her late thirties, with her dark brown wavy locks coiffed medium-length and designed to frame her face. It was a look that was both aesthetically pleasing and pragmatic. Just from the way she walked, with her back erect and her head held high, proud and confident but without a trace of arrogance, and strides that were long and unhurried, one could tell that this person was familiar and comfortable with wielding power and authority. Her toned musculature was also fairly obvious despite the loose-fitting uniform she wore.

"Hello, Diana," said Pamela, a hint of a smile on her face. Martin noticed that she spoke with an impressive facsimile of an English accent. West Midlands, as far as I can tell. As with everything else about her, Pamela's speech pattern enhanced the air of quiet yet powerful authority she exuded.

"Welcome, Commander."

"The Leader sends his greetings."

Martin noticed Diana's hesitation before continuing with the exchange of pleasantries.

"I'm afraid you've caught me by surprise," Diana said. Martin was surprised at her candor. "It disturbs me I was not informed earlier of your arrival."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Diana. I hope I haven't thrown you off schedule."

"No, no, I would have liked to have had more time to prepare a reception for you," Diana said graciously. "A reception befitting a Supreme Commander."

"Well, how very thoughtful of you," Pamela said, smiling, as she turned and walked towards the same stairs Diana had descended from just minutes earlier. Diana, Martin, and Lorraine all followed in her wake.

That was a bit… dismissive, thought Martin, as he watched the interplay between his superior officer and her own direct superior.

"The Leader wants the schedule speeded up," Pamela said as she climbed. "And for that purpose, I've brought engineers and other experts for a special project."

'Special project'? What special project?

"When it succeeds, we'll be able to pump all the fresh water from Southern California in the next thirty days."

"I should have been left to handle that," Diana said.

"Well, it could become a military issue, an area in which I'm fairly well-versed." Pamela, Martin noted, wasted no time or energy with gestures of false modesty. He was quite aware of Pamela's reputation for not tolerating pretension.

"I'm aware of that," Diana said.

Pamela stopped at the last landing before reaching the catwalk and turned towards Diana, Martin, and Lorraine. Any semblance of a friendly smile was gone from her face. "The 'resistance' has been causing us some delays, and, frankly, jeopardizing our mission," she said, suddenly deadly serious. "We were led to believe that the rebels in this area were disorganized and ineffective."

Martin noticed Diana bristle at the implication. "Steven is the only one who has been ineffective in dealing with the rebels," Diana said. She then smiled. "However, I have captured the rebels' leader, and I am – "

Pamela scoffed, shaking her head. "It's not important that we discuss that presently," she said. "What is important is that we do as we're told." With that she resumed her climb up the stairs onto the catwalk.

Martin couldn't see, but he was certain that as soon as Pamela's back had turned, Diana's smile had become a venomous glare.

He gave Lorraine a wordless glance as he followed Pamela and Diana out of the executive landing bay.

An hour later, Martin received a summons on his communicator from Diana.

"Pamela wants to have a look at Juliet Parrish," she said. "Meet us at the intake station in the prisoners' infirmary in seven minutes."

"As you wish, Diana."

Prisoners' infirmary?

What happened to Julie?

Martin hurried to an elevator and rode it down to the Mother Ship's detention section. Detention was several levels above where he was, but the trip took a mere two minutes.

He waited at intake for a further four minutes before Diana and Pamela arrived. He considered accessing Juliet's file at a local computer, but realized that anyone inspecting the access logs would know that he had done so.

I've got no business looking into a prisoner's medical file. Not unless Diana specifically gave me that access.

He was still thinking about what the best thing to do was when Diana and Pamela arrived. He saluted both with a bow of the head.

"I've read your reports on your work with this prisoner," Pamela said to Diana. "I trust there is an observation station where you're keeping her?"

"Of course. We have her in Room Two," Diana said, who then waved at Martin to lead the way.

The three of them entered a side room with a window that looked into where Juliet Parrish was being kept. She was unconscious on a bed. A thick blanket had been placed over her to keep her warm, while a respirator mask covered her mouth and nostrils.

Martin couldn't believe how different Juliet looked compared to when he helped prepare her for the conversion process. Her hair was matted and in tangles, and her pallor made the dark circles under her eyes even more pronounced. Despite the fact that she was under the blanket, Martin could tell that she had lost quite a lot of weight. The respirator mask couldn't hide her sunken cheeks.

She looks so frail.

Pamela looked at her in silence for a minute before turning to Diana. "How long did your medical staff say this human needs to recover before you can resume the conversion process?"

"Their most recent estimate, given to me shortly before you arrived, is a minimum of three days before they can determine whether or not she is healthy enough for me to continue working on her."

"And how long ago did she experience the cardiac arrest?"

Cardiac arrest?!

"It happened two nights ago, per my reports," Diana replied.

"Yes, of course," Pamela said.

I wonder if I could ask Bruce to access those reports and send them to me. Or at least give me copies of Julie's medical readouts.

I MUST meet with Donovan.

As Martin ruminated, he continued to watch Pamela, who kept her eyes on the unconscious Juliet, talk to Diana. "You've had her for fifteen days now, and for most of that time you've been working on converting her. Does your conversion process typically take this much time?"

Martin caught Diana's furtive glance at him – she didn't bother to disguise her ire – before she answered. "There is no such thing as a 'routine' or 'typical' conversion. Every person subjected to the process is unique; therefore, every conversion process is unique to itself."

Pamela turned to look at Diana. "I don't see the practical value of converting her is, strategically or tactically."

"What do you mean? My goal is to plant her back into the resistance; surely you don't question the logic behind this?"

Pamela gave Diana a small smile. "I think you are underestimating the enemy somewhat."

"I don't follow."

"You have had her for more than two weeks. If her fellow rebels followed logic and reason, as I must assume they do, they would have made the decision to abandon her. If they were truly logical, they would have done so as soon as they discovered that you have taken her prisoner." Pamela smile never left her lips. "Haven't you considered the possibility that her comrades have given up on her and consider her as a casualty of war?"

"Of course I have – "

"Have you?" Pamela interrupted. "Don't you think that, even if you successfully convert her – "

"'If?'" Diana bristled, surprising Martin a bit with her forcefulness. "I have no doubt that I will convert her."

"Well, let me express, in no uncertain terms, that I have very serious reservations about the viability of your conversion process." Pamela smiled at Diana again. "As I was saying, even if you convert her, haven't you thought about the likelihood that the rebels will be extremely suspicious of her in the event she returns to them? That they could never trust her ever again, simply because, by now, they probably know about what you've been doing to her?"

"I will make sure she is programmed appropriately, after I break her." Diana shifted her gaze to Juliet. "And I am at the verge of doing so."

"Don't take things so personally, my dear," Pamela said. "It's just that I would rather kill the enemy; torture might satisfy a perverse personal sadism on your part, but it is rare when it effects a true change in your victim's personality."

Diana crossed her arms and smiled smugly. "Conversion may be torturous for the subject, but it is far beyond any simple conventional method of torture. Moreover, I have no 'personal sadism' to satisfy… only the willingness to do all that is necessary to do the job. If you have read the entirety of the reports, then you wouldn't question the effectiveness and value of the conversion process."

"Oh, I have read all of the reports," Pamela countered. "I've been doing so ever since I left the homeworld. As impressive as your successes are in this particular realm of expertise, far less impressive is your conversion process' rate of success, which is too far from satisfactory. One successful conversion for every three or four failures is too low an average to inspire confidence."

"Surely you must understand that it is statistically impossible to expect a perfect success rate with something as complex as the conversion process," argued Diana. Martin could sense her growing frustration. He could hear it in her voice, which was more forceful, held in check only by the fact that Pamela outranked her. "I cannot help it if the process risks, among other things, permanent and irreparable brain trauma or even death on the part of the subject."

"Which eloquently explains part of my personal misgivings about it."

"And what other misgivings do you have?"

"Time and energy are not infinite in supply. As I said in the landing bay, the Leader wants to accelerate our schedule."

"I can appreciate the imperative behind the Leader's reasoning," Diana said, a bit calmer now. "But, once it is done, successfully converting Julie will be a definitive strategic advantage. When she is converted, I have no doubt she will be useful in finally defeating the local rebellion once and for all."

"I doubt that. If they had proper military instincts, they are far beyond the point of accepting that she has been rendered expendable."

"I don't agree."

"Perhaps not." Martin watched Pamela put her hands on her hips, holding Diana in her gaze. "However, let us not forget whose opinion carries more weight, and whose decisions will ultimately be followed."

Martin looked at Diana. Her face was a mask of calm, but her eyes smoldered with the fire of anger and frustration despite the contact lenses that hid her true ones. She then looked down at her boots. "Yours, of course." She sighed. "Do you have other reservations to express, Commander?"

"Only one more," Pamela said. Her small smile was back on her face. "My biggest misgiving is that I believe you have made the task of converting this Juliet Parrish a purely personal affair."

"I assure you: That is so wide of the truth that it is laughable." Diana smiled smugly. "Why would you think that."

"Diana, my dear," said Pamela as she reached out to squeeze Diana's shoulder. "You are not the only one here who has a keen understanding of psychology."

Martin didn't miss Pamela's quick glance at him, a knowing look in her eyes. She then turned to leave the observation room. "Despite what you may be thinking," she said to Diana, "I do want to see you succeed in converting this woman. One fewer seditionist is always much more desirable than one more. As you say, if she is successfully converted, perhaps she may be an exploitable asset if your analysis of the enemy is somehow correct and her comrades welcome her back into their midst with open arms. That is why I am giving you one more week to finish converting her."

Pamela pressed the switch to open the door out, then looked at Diana.

What she said next froze Martin's blood and made his heart jump.

"If she has not been converted by the end of that week, I will kill her myself."