Chapter Five
"That was a bit... mean." - Irwine commented quietly, as the two men watched Savage storm out.
The aquiline woman shrugged, as she limberly took the seat that was just vacated.
"Truth hurts. But it's also the best way to get someone off my back. Without putting a bullet in them." - she smirked briefly.
"Your restraint is appreciated, Colonel." - Quinn's dry voice butted in. To this, Yelena rolled her eyes.
"I know she means well. But she needs to... tend to her own mind, before worrying about mine. And I am not interested in... professionals... digging around my head in any case. It is still hard to think about most of it, without compartmentalisation. And I have been doing that for so long, that I'm actually worried if I stop, I would go insane." - she murmured, raising two fingers to summon the bartender.
"Vodka. Double." - she decided, after a brief thought, once he was in earshot.
Irwine raised an eyebrow at that.
"That's a bit stronger then most times when you go for the hard stuff. I'm guessing... the chat you had with the cybertechs didn't go well?"
The woman slid slightly deeper into her chair, sliding it backwards to make room to cross her long legs.
"Techs. They are worse then doctors, sometimes. Always telling you what you don't want to hear." - she sighed.
"No chance of shielding my power grid. In their words – 'you require a complete reconfiguration of your unshielded circuitry'. Just tell me you need to rebuild me, and be done with it!" - scowling.
Quinn pursed his lips.
"What are the prospects of doing that? Your base architecture is quite sophisticated, and to bring it up to modern standards probably isn't something to be done without access to more complete facilities then we have here." - dubiously.
Yelena shook her head.
"They told me as much. They could rebuild me with what is available here, or could be requisitioned from other sites, but it would not be as effective. Or efficient. Or integrated. The only advantage would be, that it would be shielded from surges and EM effects. But I would lose, by their estimate, about 40% of my abilities. Including the cloak. At best, I could use it in short intervals, because of the tripled power drain... Which is unacceptable to me."
Quinn nodded promptly.
"To the organisation as well. Your ability to remain unnoticed is remarkable, even among our stealth assets. We have done a statistical comparative study between yourself, Jensen, and Saxon, and you eclipse them both, by a considerable percentage, when it comes to infiltration potential. Even after the recent upgrades they both received, their cloaking is just not on the same level. Nor is their proficiency with using it, nor can they sustain it for as long as you can. You're... well... unique, when it comes to sneaking around effectively, and likely score in the top percentage of most accomplished infiltrators in the world. We're not interested in losing that."
"You make it sound like her value is only measured in what she can do! I thought we moved past viewing people as assets, around here." - Irwine put in, a bit tersely, but Yelena raised her hand.
"It's alright, Irw. That is the price to pay of being augmented as much as I am. You are an asset, whether you like it or not, and I never thought I was accepted, just for my winning personality! I am useful, to the Collective. And I like being considered that. It's... satisfying." - she admitted, flexing.
"Yelena, you're so much more then that! And I just don't want you to see yourself just as-" - he started, reaching to squeeze her hand, but she interrupted, gently.
"I do not! And thank you for saying that. But my machine-self is a part of me, and will always be. Something to consider, if you ever wonder if it would be worth it, for you. It does change the way you see yourself. And there really is no going back." - significantly.
"Huh. Never thought of it that way." - the man murmured.
Yelena glanced at her bracelet briefly, before she addressed Quinn again.
"So yes, I rejected their proposal. Losing such a significant part of my functionality and efficiency, was not acceptable. On a professional, and personal, level. My concealment is a part of me. Part of who I am. Part of my soul. I'm so used to it, and adapted to it, that I can't imagine not being able to... disappear... when I wish. From the world, and from... from myself, sometimes. Sometimes I just like to... vanish, and meditate." - reflectively.
Quinn nodded, refocusing the topic back to tactical considerations...
"That however, leaves the issue of how to protect you from scrambling, in the field. I have read your report on what happened in that underground ring. And it correlates strongly with your less-then-ideal – performance - against Jensen, back in Montreal. I'm sure the same thoughts already occurred to you. EM-shielded suits are one option, but they also have a negative effect on the bioenergy storage. And they are quite bulky."
"I'll have to learn to rely less on my systems, and diversify my training, to be less... flustered, if I lose access to them." - she stated, glancing at Irwine, who smiled.
"...but other then working around potential hazards when I come across them, there's not much else to do. I will simply have to be more aware of it, on assignments." - she finished, as a shot glass of vodka was deposited in front of her. She took a sip.
Quinn was unconvinced, however.
"EM-based scrambling has made considerable inroads into personal weapons market, as well. Connaught Technologies is developing a form of throwable device that can wreak havoc on robotic and cybernetic power systems and memory cores, making them act against their programming. They refer to it as a 'scramble grenade'. Also slated to be available as alternative ammunition for their P.E.P.S., I believe. Not sure how would that affect your systems... but if any of your processors actually affect your decision-making centres in the brain-"
"They do not." - she assured him, "...I was never fitted with synaptic neural implants, aside from those in the brainstem, as part of the reflex-boosting grid. And the... well... what would today be known as CASIE... implant. But that one is actually on a passive circuit. Lucky me... But that would still make me completely helpless, if caught in the blast. Immobilised. Not just without it, but... working against me. Paralysing me. That would... not be fun." - she admitted, grimacing sligthly.
"How big would be the blast radius?" - Irwine was curious.
"Possibly larger then that of an EMP grenade, since it is partially based on microwave interference. How much larger... we do not have access to the exact specs. We have people working on obtaining the detailed schematics, however." - the older man shrugged.
Yelena's face twisted into a sour expression, as she took another sip.
"All the more reason not to lose my cloak. I will need to rely even more on first-strike advantage and control the terms of engagement." - she sounded concerned, but not discouraged. If anything... she saw it as an added challenge. And for Yelena - challenges were fun.
"Weapons are only as good as the people using them..." - Irwine murmured with a nod.
"And I'll have you watching my back, dear!" - she smiled at him.
"Always!" - he smiled back.
"You two do work very well as partners. You complement each other perfectly, as demonstrated during the assignment. And Major Irwine's lack of augmentations, makes him virtually immune to all the threats discussed here." - Quinn agreed.
"Score for the natches!" - Irwine quipped with a grin. Yelena had to concede the point, with a sigh and a half-chuckle. It was something she wondered about, more and more often, ever since her - epiphany.
What would have my life been like... if that day never happened? If they never... changed me? If I never changed... myself?
The answer, of course, eluded her. It was more a theoretical exercise, then a real question. Ever since her awakening, she started seeing people around her as... people. Not targets. Not assets or hindrances. Not... ants in a hive, separated from her... different world. World of shadows, objectives, orders, and assessments.
She was alive, once more.
Being with Irwine, being in a relationship, helped her begin to... parse the real world properly. But she knew she had a long way to go, before understanding what it was like, to simply... live. She understoon Irwine's distress, over the prospect of never seeing his family again, since she had a frame of reference for that. Her own family, and how much she missed them, ever since being able to remember that day. She genuinely felt for him, and she had no doubt he could tell that.
But so many other things... friends, hobbies... interests... she had trouble with. She had no friends. She saw no point to having them. No purpose to exposing herself enough to form a friendship. Friendship required a measure of trust, which she would not give lightly. She liked her solitude and detachment. With Irwine it was different. She loved him. But that was reserved only for him. Because he had earned her hard, hard-bitten trust and respect, over months. His openness, kindness, and lack of judgement was... intoxicating. She felt she could let down her guard fully, and not feel vulnerable, with him.
That night on the container ship, back in Panama, where she let it all out... she expected him to build a wall. To condemn her. Part of her was even... hoping... for it. But he didn't. He accepted her, for what she was. And what she tried so hard to move beyond.
Hobbies... she refused to see her interest in dancing, as a hobby. She always liked to dance. If not for her job with the Collective, and if not for the current - difficulties - facing augmented people, she imagined she would've eventually found her niche, opening a contemporary ballet school. After making certain her past could never catch up to her, of course, and building up an ironclad new identity. Or joining one, as an instructor. Maybe pole-art. Competitive dancing... It was in her blood, and even during her years in the Tyrants... in the privacy of her own quarters, or during self-training, she often incorporated dancing motions, to various trance and techno tunes. Or classical music. Sometimes she would lose herself in it, for hours at a time. Her preferred fighting style also had a a lot in common, with dancing.
Never in front of others, though. They didn't... deserve... to see it. They were NOT privy, to that part of her. Not worthy. Ever. She would never show even a hint, of vulnerability. She never saw any of them, as friends, or even colleagues. Just - members of the unit. Necessary... annoyances. And an occassional cheap trill for the night. And in her eyes, there was never any doubt, when any of them looked closely enough, that subconsciously, she wanted them all dead. The latent fury was always there... just suppressed. Denied. Blocked. Channelled elsewhere, into the pleasure she got, from killing.
Many of the Tyrant troops called her a medusa. On account of that hollow stare, that none of them ever got comfortable with. And they were never treated to any other kind, from her. She hated them. All of them. Deserving, undeserving... it didn't matter. And they knew it. Even fighting side-by-side; for that matter, even in bed with her, they knew it. They knew that the only thing, separating them from the mountain of corpses she accrued, was artificial boundaries and brainwashing.
She simply had nowhere else to go, for seven years. And she was locked within her own mind.
"Honey...? You found something interesting in that glass?" - Irwine's soft tone snapped her out of it, as he laid a hand on hers.
The woman didn't realise she'd gone silent and introspective for long enough to be noticed. She drained the rest of it, then smiled at him.
"I'm fine, Irw. Just... wondering about things. Wondering what it might be like... being normal. Natural. Natch."
He rolled his eyes with a chuckle.
"Eh. Overrated. Annoying at times. Self-conscious at other times. But... feels just right enough that I'm fine with it. Plus I'm not gonna lie - in the present social climate, it has it's advantages."
"That it does." - Quinn agreed, briefly tracing a finger across his own telltale facial circuitry.
"We have a potential insertion opportunity... within Duma." - Quinn began without preamble, once they were out of the public areas, down to the intel centre. As long as the two of them were here - he would not miss the chance to give them a preliminary briefing on the upcoming assignment.
Irwine skipped a step, in surprise, covering it up with a brief cough. Yelena's face remained impassive.
"The Russian parliament? Janus moves fast, I guess..." - the man muttered.
Quinn shrugged.
"Not usually, Major. But the inevitable leak of information to the Russian public, about everything that happened at the airport that night, has substantially empowered the anti-corporate elements within the government. Apparently, the civilian employees had been less then cooperative about keeping quiet about what was going on. Claiming that a 'government operative' was involved, in the elimination of 'foreign soldiers occupying the airport'." - he paused.
"It is being denied of course, but the political opposition has jumped on it with passion. And an independently-conducted public poll has been overwhelmingly in support of it. So much so that even Picus is now beginning to report about 'possible schism within the Russian government'. And as you can imagine - our cabal 'friends' are getting very nervous about it. Ever since the elimination of Kontarsky, their influence in the country had been increasing steadily, as did the influence of the corporations under their control. Ultimately though, they still do not have all the levers of power, in Russia, as is the case with China and the West. They need the government to remain favourable to their interests. And this... schism... changes that."
Yelena smirked.
"I am a bit proud of myself for that. Don't misunderstand... it was a very spur-of-the-moment decision. Actually, no - not even a decision. I just needed to kill those Tarvos pigs. And then I had to take credit for it. And point the finger in a good direction." - she admitted, her eyes flashing at the word 'credit'.
"But I understand the mentality of my people. We are patriots. And patriots need a flashpoint to rally behind. And it was a chance to reverse some of the damage done, by the Kontarsky assignment. It is rare that I have a chance to undo a small part of what I was a part of."
Quinn glared.
"You.. ? You told them you were a government agent? The civilians up in the tower?!" - incredulously.
"Yes. You disapprove? Why?" - she frowned, as Irwine had to stifle a chuckle.
The older man sputtered for a moment.
"Fedorova, that was... not... not a part of your mandate there! Not the - need - as you call it, to clean up the Tarvos squad in the tower, something that I very much made clear to you - and CERTAINLY not the unilateral decision to just point a finger, at an outside party, as the one responsible! You're a soldier! Your job is to follow orders, not determine the grand strategy! And certainly not without even consulting your superiors." - he stopped and faced her, blocking the hallway ahead, tone hard.
The aquiline woman lost her smirk, pinning him with a return glare that could melt steel.
"I took the initiative, mister Quinn." - tone just as hard, "...and remember what I told you back then, the first day after your little - evaluation - of me, by the AI profiling software? I told you that we either work as equals, or not at all. I am not your subordinate. Or your... your slave. Yours or Janus's. I am your partner. As long as it suits my own purposes. I have been a good little soldier for seven years. A tool. An attack dog with no say in it. I will never be one again. I will never be used as such again. Ever. By anyone." - a trace of loathing momentarily entering her tone there, just as quickly gone, as she suppressed her memories.
The older man's face darkened at that.
"There is still a chain of command, damn it! And decisions like these are not for a field-operative to make on their own! You have no insight into the larger picture, or the political complexities that might or might not be involved." - he held up a hand, as she opened her mouth to retort, "GRANTED, your little stunt proved beneficial, THIS TIME, but that does NOT mean that will always be the case. There is a fine line between initiative, and arrogance, Colonel. You have crossed it, in this instance. Because it worked to our benefit, I'm willing to look past it, assuming Janus does. But make no mistake, this will be remembered."
The woman's expression twitched, as she glanced briefly at Irwine. The ex-Marine remained silent, but the look in his eyes told him that he agreed with Quinn. This... made Yelena pause. And reevaluate.
She sighed.
"I should have consulted you about it." - softly, looking back at Quinn. Then she looked away. But she cold feel his eyes on her.
"You should have." - he nodded, gaze still hard, for a long pair of moments.
Then he slowly moved on down the hall, prompting the other two to fall in step again.
"That aside... well done, Colonel. It was an inspired move to make." - with a slight smile, that surprised the woman. Before she could reply, he continued, however.
"If you want to take a more active role in formulating our grand strategy, you only need to ask. Request a personal audience with Janus, if you like. Nobody in the Collective is thinking of you as a tool. Or an attack dog with no voice. We gave you your freedom, with no strings attached, and we do consider you a partner. A valuable partner. I just wish you saw us in the same light." - pointedly.
This made Yelena feel... guilty about it, as she lagged slightly behind.
"I'm sorry, Quinn. It is... just hard... for me to trust anyone. But I will keep that in mind. And you're right. You kept your part of the bargain." - softly, but with conviction.
"So what's the deal then? You're gonna meet with some politician and make him a sales-pitch, and we're to be the security on-site? And make sure Bratva don't have an ulterior motive?" - Irwine inquired, eager to get back on track.
"You may have noticed I'm not exactly at my best... I can still shoulder a rifle, but don't expect me to do much running around. Not for the rest of the week, minimum." - mirthlessly.
Quinn shook his head.
"Oh don't worry, Major, the meeting itself won't be for a while yet... a couple of weeks, probably... we are simply in tentative communication for now. But yes, when the time comes, you yourself will be the asset on the ground. It will likely be a public event, possibly even with media coverage, and a non-augmented operative will draw far less attention. Colonel Fedorova here is many things, but inconspicuous is not one of them – at least not while visible." - he amended with a chuckle, glancing back at the woman.
"That's fine. I dislike the spotlight anyway." - Yelena nodded, still feeling a bit subdued, not meeting his gaze. Her attention was on her bracelet.
"That's not what it looked like, back in Panama, miss Dance Queen!" - Itwine quipped, trying to lighten the mood.
That got a half-hearted smile out of her, at least.
"Depends on the audience, dear!" - softly, before she finally looked at Quinn.
"So he will be the primary, I am the backup? Or will I be on intel-gathering?" - her tone adopting a fully detached aspect.
When she didn't know how to feel, especially after a deserved dressing-down... Yelena always fell back to clinical professionalism.
"Mainly backup, unannounced one of course, in case things go south... but yes, the meeting will be a prime opportunity for us to do some discreet snooping around, as well. And who better to do it, then you? The mark's personal computer, his communiques, contacts... any leverage we can apply, if needed. And any leverage he can apply over us, of course, if he chooses. It pays to know one's... new friends." - Quinn said.
"Who is the mark?" - Yelena inquired.
"Madalyuk. Yevgeni Madalyuk."
The name didn't ring a bell for her, but then again, the latest intel she was concerned about, on the makeup of Russian government, was over a year ago, when she was required to familiarise herself with it, in preparation for the Kontarsky assignment. And even then - the Tyrants always operated on a need-to-know basis. As far as she remember, she never saw the name Madalyuk, figuring on the list of his associates.
"Never heard of him." - she was blunt.
"Good." - Quinn nodded, which came as some surprise, earning him a raised eyebrow from the woman.
"If you had, then it would be a foregone assumption you former masters had him on their radar. Which would make him a hot potato to touch, at this juncture. Yevgeni Madalyuk is a rising star, a member of the hardline nationalist party. For the past decade, they were very much a niggling irritant, of the current pro-globalist power structure." - the older man explained.
"Just the kind of guy to throw himself in with criminals, to get a leg up..." - Irwine growled, distaste in his tone.
Quinn smirked.
"Oh, no mistake... he is his own creature, when it comes to ambition. But for the time being, his ambitions work in concert with our own interests. And on top of it all... he is also a businessman. One whose business had suffered quite a bit, with foreign corporate involvement and attempts to corner the market."
"A patriotic businessman? Those are... the best kind. Assuming his patriotism overrides his greed. If not, this may very well be a trap, to bring us out into the open. The whole notion of a meeting. I have learned many things in the Tyrants, and one of them is that every businessman has his price. And - they... have a lot of money to offer. All they ask in return, is your soul. A cheap commodity these days." - Yelena put in darkly.
"Janus thinks the same way. Hence why we have quite a bit of groundwork to do, before the meeting. Two weeks gives us ample time." - Quinn agreed, as the three stepped into a darkened video-conference chamber.
To the woman's eyes, it was similar to the one she was in, back at the Hole, when she was evaluated.
"Isn't it a bit late for another go at this? I will not be any more transparent, I assure you! Besides, I think I have proven my loyalty." - she growled.
The older man smirked.
"No, this is not an evaluation. It's time to meet Janus, Colonel. Or at least the only iteration of Janus, you'll ever likely get to meet. But don't feel let out. It is the only face I have seen, myself, so far." - the doors sliding shut behind them, and a telltale high-pitched subsonic whine of an aural dampening field going up, picked up by Yelena's cochlear implants.
Enhanced privacy...
Before either she or Irwine could ask what he meant... the video-wall lit up, with a blurry face on it. It was featureless, vaguely male face, similiar in some respect to the grainy one that Yelena saw, during her evaluation, but... more substantive. In a flash, she wondered if she was, in fact, evaluated by Janus, and the notion of an 'AI program' was just a cover.
~"Greetings, Colonel Fedorova, Major Irwine. It is time to-"~ - the AI-enhanced tone came from the face, impossible to identify as either male or female, before the aquiline woman cut it off.
"Was it you who evaluated me, Janus? If so, why the pretence? Why not simply tell me, back then?" - sharply. The tone sounded a bit different from the one back then... but the face bore enough similarity, for her to give in to her curiousity.
Quinn's glare for the interruption was telling, but she ignored it. Her natural personality, no longer suppressed by conditioning, was one of a highly irreverent, willful, opinionated, assertive individual. A dominant personality. And her dislike of being led by the nose, was a fact.
The face went silent for a pair of moments, and Yelena got the distinct impression her query was unexpected. For his part, Irwine's grin spoke volumes.
"Babe, you're a force of nature sometimes, you know that?" - he whispered in her ear.
The woman's lips twitched into a brief smirk, but she said nothing.
Finally, the face spoke up again.
~"Yes. Or at least... one iteration of us. And the reason for the pretence is simple. If you knew, your responses would have been adjusted accordingly. Attempting to impress, or deceive, or appease. With your level of mental partitioning, ascertaining the truth would have been exponentially more difficult. You are a complex individual, Yelena Fedorova."~
The woman considered what to say. That last sounded like a compliment, but for some reason, she doubted it was one. So she took it at face value.
"Yes I am. And I appreciate a straight answer." - neutrally. Janus was right, though... if she knew, back then and there... she would've segmented from the start. If only out of concern of giving away too much to a potential enemy.
~"It is time to discuss Yevgeni Madalyuk, and his controlling share in UralPharma. And what we can do to assist him in retaining and expanding it, in exchange for his services to the Collective."~ - Janus continued.
Yelena nodded to herself. One of the very few biotech corporations remaining, that was as-yet-independent from the expanding TYM conglomerate cloud. The Tyrant files on it were sketchy, as at the time, the company itself was not holding a significant enough share of the global market, to be a threat to the monopoly. It was a dwarf, compared to giants like Sarif Industries, Isolay, or N-ProTec. All of which had now fallen.
But as with any aspiring monopoly, clearly it wasn't enough for their enemies, to absorb just the giants. They had to make a clean sweep.
Not if I can help it.
She thought, listening intently.