Chapter Fourteen
New York, unknown location...
Eleven.
She could count eleven discoloured bricks on the wall, from where she lay.
Probably moisture... smells like it.
Jamella thought numbly, lying on the cot, staring blankly at the wall. Her one human eye was glazed-over and vacant, as she shuddered continuously. Partly from what she went through, partly from the stinging coldness of the cell. Still. The cold was preferable to the pain, since it numbed it.
Sleep eluded her, even though she didn't have any, for the past twenty hours.
Hair messy and unkempt, temples marked with angry red marks of electrode-links, a single smudged line of dried tears, coming from her human eye down her left cheek. She was stark-naked, blood seeping from between her legs.
A bundle of orange, prison-style clothing, and bland-looking underwear lay in an orderly heap, not far from the cot where they left it. But she didn't put it on. The blanket at the edge of the cot – untouched.
She moaned softly, pain shooting through her, blank expression remaining on her face. After five hours, she almost... got used to it. Almost. The pain. Then her eyes suddenly widened in dread. The face was back.
~You reek of fear, little girl.~
A voice manifested itself in her mind. It was... Yelena's voice, and Yelena's face. But it had a strangely... distorted quality – the same distorted, artificially atonal quality that the woman in black had.
"N...no. Sss—stop...!" - Jamella moaned louder, tensing up, then suddenly recoiled, flailing her arms around as if trying to ward off something only she could see. In the process, her right hand struck the brick wall hard, opening a scrape.
"Nggh!" - she cradled it, shaking her head, trying to get the voice out of her mind.
~You're weak. A disappointment. I should've killed you, like I killed your brother.~
"Nnnnggghhh... no! G-g-get o-out of my h...head! You... you're n-not... NOT... Yelena! She... s-she cares... a-about me... y-you-you... you're... a monster! A MONSTER! GET OUT!" - Jamella snarled, burying her head into the pillow.
~Nobody cares about you, Jamella. Least of all me. You were nothing but an amusing plaything. But in the end, you were a weakness. You got me killed by your stupidity! And now you're all alone.~
"NO! N-no! It's not... not t-true! Liar! She's NOT DEAD! She's not... she's NOT! She... she'll c-come! She'll come f-for me! And s-she'll KILL YOU ALL!" - the brutalised girl cried into the pillow, desperately trying to focus past the nightmare-face in her mind.
She knew that they pumped her full of psychoactive drugs, after their mind-sifting attempt failed. Even via hardwire proxy-connection, Jamella's neural hub and it's many custom-made modifications and internal safeguards, remained resistant to intrusion, preventing neuro-readout of her brain, or access to her Datavault archives. At least of the analytical part of it, where the information they were after was contained. But that didn't make them any less frustrated, taking it out on her.
Punishing her for her continuing defiance.
The woman in black was first... sodomising her with a baton, until she started bleeding profusely from the rectum. Then the male agent returned, and raped her, with machine-cold, detached intensity. No emotion. Like being raped by a robot. Over, and over again, for another hour, tearing her virginhood apart. One of the two lab techs also took his turn, while the other... excused himself from the proceedings... before she was superficially treated for the incurred injuries, forcibly stripped and cleaned under a painful, highly-pressurised water-hose, then dumped back in her cell.
Still tasting semen and blood in her mouth, and unable to stand, from the shooting, pulsing pain between her legs. Feeling small, scared, and violated. The pain mixing with shame, mixing with lightheaded sickness, from all the chemicals in her system.
What they did get... was the emotional undercurrents of her thoughts, amplified by the psychological horror of rape. Including her connection to Yelena. And now they were preying on that, using the psychoactive substances as the medium. The voice – the face... the still-lucid part of Jamella, realised that it wasn't real.
But it was growing harder, and harder to ignore. And the fact that her mind conjured it up at all, was testament of how much... lingering... buried resentment... she still carried.
Was it just resentment, though? Or was it also guilt? The nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, they were telling the truth, about her friends being dead... because of her.
"Subject status?" - the MiB peered at the master brainwave readout in the control room, coming from the sensors in Jamella's cell.
"Semi-lucid for the most part. In pain, confused, but resistant. For now, anyway. I will relish breaking her, bit by bit. Until all of her... spirit... is gone!" - the WiB replied, glancing up from the padd she was studying, her atonal voice almost – dreamy.
"Relishment is an emotional fallacy, Adept. Until you surpass such compromising states of mind, you will never advance past the Third Rank. Nor be rid of your lingering individuality. Nor earn your new name, on the Path of the Illuminated." - the MiB's tone was leaden.
It made the pale woman stiffen slightly, rebuked.
"Yes, Agent Zaius. I will strive to purge myself of my remaining emotional limitations." - she paused, then pressed on.
"But what of you? You engaged, as well. You wouldn't have, if you hadn't found her... desirable." - slightly sulkily.
He shook his head, adamantly.
"Desire is irrelevant. Efficiency is not. And the most efficient way to break a female mind, is through enhanced negative sexual stimulus." - he turned to walk off.
The grimace on the pale woman's face, conveyed perfectly, what she thought of that statement, as she turned her attention back to her padd.
Hypocrite.
Aboard the captured assault craft, docked within a coastal cave...
"Tell me something, Fedorova... how do you live with yourself?" - Anna Kelso growled under her breath, finally deciding to give-in to a small fraction of the... pent up anger towards Yelena, that she nursed ever since the events on Icarus.
Two years ago, the two of them never really had a chance to talk alone like this – mostly due to Kelso's own determination to keep as much distance between them as possible.
Truth be told, she wouldn't be surprised if the other woman just ignored the question, so she returned her attention to the armoury bulkhead she was currently running a scan on. Over the past hour that they'd been here, she's already found and deactivated two separate microcircuit transmitters embedded in hidden compartments, one on the bridge, and another in the crew lounge.
Both were one-way datalink units, designed to broadcast the vessel's location on a very specific, proprietary satellite network. It wasn't Linksat, or any of the more mainstream ones, and she would need to contact one of the Collective's more experienced hackers, to identify it.
Yelena was silent for close to a minute, seemingly ignoring the question, as she busied herself inventorying everything in the armoury, typing a manifest onto a pocket secretary in her hands. Between her recovery from her own self-inflicted concussion earlier, and her training session, she never actually got around to tallying up everything that they suddenly had at their disposal.
And it was a lot. Explosives, small arms, electronic hacking tools, enough energy cells and cyberpacks to sustain her for a year, even some replacement aug-components... mostly incompatible with her outdated architecture, but not all – this ship was a treasure trove. And it would mean actual operational independence, down the line, for their cell.
The aquiline woman's lips thinned into an angry line.
Our cell... but the cell is missing a member. Jamella...! I won't rest until I find you. You're family. And if they hurt you in ANY way... there will be no place on Earth, heaven, or hell, where they can hide from me. Rand will just be the first. And God help anyone who gets in my way.
Finally, she replied to Kelso's question, glancing briefly at the former Secret Service agent.
"Why the non sequitur, Anna? Until now you seemed perfectly content to limit our interaction to business at hand. I'd rather hear more about your informant. Do you want me to extract her, following our meeting? In my experience, having a sleeper so deeply embedded, suddenly break cover far enough to meet an asset, is a recipe for exposure."
Kelso scowled.
"Yeah, that's something else you better appreciate. I've cultivated my contact in VersaLife for close to a year now. And I'm burning it, for you and what you need. Yes; I'd like to get her out, if possible. She's a good person, and the info she provided us over time has never failed to deliver results." - quietly.
"But that just makes me more curious. How – do - you live with yourself... How did you just – move on? Far enough to even care about anyone, like you seem to care about miss Couture?" - her tone now honestly puzzled.
"I didn't. Move on." - Yelena replied with a shrug, finally meeting the other woman's gaze fully.
"I do not move on. That's my curse. I'm still there. The only difference is, that I'm now aware of that. And have to fight it every day, and separate it from the part of me, that I want the people I care about, to see. They think I can heal. Move on. But there are wounds that don't heal. I tried to move on, for three years now. At times, I almost convinced myself I did. But the more I tried, the more... incomplete... I started to feel. Like I was betraying myself." - she paused.
"Irwine... he loves me. And I love him. I need him. And Jamella... she is someone who deserves to be happy. She's the closest thing to a sister, I now have. My little sister. I would burn the world down, for her. Not even think twice." - tone turning slightly haunted.
"Interesting choice of words, given what you did to her br-" - Kelso started, narrowing her eyes slightly, but she cut her off.
"Don't remind me." - sharply.
The other woman nodded, turning her attention back to her scanner.
"I guess we've got that in common. Neither of us believes that people ever really change."
The silence remained for another half a minute, before Kelso spoke again.
"What about Irwine? Don't you think it's cruel, in a way, to keep his hopes up? If he really is after something more, from your relationship?" - in a tone that carried a trace of self-reflection in it, too.
Yelena gave her a sidelong glance. She hadn't missed the subtext.
"I take it you and Ben aren't quite the... item... that you seem to be?" - redirecting. Kelso instantly looked away.
"None of your business." - clamming up with an eyeroll.
"Likewise." - Yelena smirked knowingly, returning her attention to the pocket secretary, as she continued to type.
Kelso seemed to be warring with herself for a long dozen moments, before she set the scanner down and faced Yelena.
"Fine. You wanna know what bothers me with Ben? And with you, frankly?" - leadingly.
"Not particularily...?" - the aquiline woman deadpanned, but she pushed on.
"I'll tell you what! In a way, he's like you. He just has his eye on his objectives. And damned be anyone who gets caught in the aftermath. Remind you of someone you know?! This whole Newark op... jesus christ! Do you have ANY idea, what kind of consequences there'll be for the average augmented person on the street? He wants to lead a crusade against the evil corporate establishment! Strike a blow for the augmented that will echo across the world... But the problem with crusades is, the little people who suffer the backlash. And the establishment taking it out on them!" - hotly, glaring.
Yelena sighed.
"I can imagine." - making Kelso raise an eyebrow, "But I don't care. Ben actually might care more then I do. He seems to have the same underlying idealism in him, that Irw does. One of the reasons I love him. He still believes in humanity. I'm past that." - the cyborg's tone turned thoughtful.
"You can't make an omlet, without breaking a few eggs. People are sheep. Docile, obedient, oblivious – sheep. They bleat and bleat and expect change without effort. Lie down and take it. Too afraid or impotent to fight for a better life, too apathetic to care about anything beyond their noses and the next paycheck. All the while being manipulated by pretty words and promises from above. That is how people like the Illuminati stay in power. Apathy of the 'little people', as you call them. They don't have it bad enough, yet. They aren't suffering enough, yet. Once they are, they might actually begin to fight back, and effect change. Until then, they deserve the consequences." - noticing the look of shock, on Kelso's face.
"So you're victim-blaming?! How fucking typ-" - the other woman started angrily, but Yelena cut her off with a vitriolic snarl.
"YES I AM! Because I've had it worse. Do you understand me? I suffered. And it defined me. And I NEVER turned into a victim! Never. That's why I'm still here. That's why I still... live with myself, as you put it. There is the answer to your question. Because I don't care." - she glared, "I don't care about the world, or the little people. In fact, more often then not, I hate the world. I hate it for what it is. Weak. Scared. Full of fear and apathy, which breeds oppression on a global scale. People want freedom, but don't want to fight and die for it!" - she grimaced.
"Wow. I mean... wow. Talk about oversimplifying the case, Fedorova...! Generalisations like that... and there is more then one way to fight, for one's freedom!" - the other woman shook her head in amazement.
"Am I? Oversimplifying? Your training as a Secret Service agent included basics in psychology. So did mine. Analyse the target and identify emotional weakspots. And I had a brother who was a textbook example of a victim, all his childhood. He was a good person. Kind. Gentle. A dreamer. Creative beyond belief." - Yelena's tone broke, very slightly, but she quickly pushed past...
"But he could not stand up for himself, if his life depended on it. He hid, from his battles."
"Nobody can ever make you a victim. You do that yourself, when you allow someone to have power over you. When you give in to fear, and submit. It is better to die, then to submit. Because we all die in the end, anyway." - the cyborg woman's disgust was palpable.
"Fuck you, Fedorova! There's nothing wrong with being scared, damn it! Being hurt! Being sad! That's what makes us human! You may as well blame people for being people... if you have to give those things up to feel safe, then it's not worth it. Most people just want to live a normal life, and find some measure of happiness. Not be caught in the middle of nameless power struggles that they'll never understand, or care about." - Kelso bit out, tears welling in her eyes. Yelena's cold, bleak nihilism was... disturbing.
Partly because she could see where the other woman was coming from. But hearing it espoused so bluntly... and she could tell Fedorova meant it... was disturbing.
Tell that to my family. We tried to find a measure of happiness. Live a normal life. But all happiness is an illusion.
Yelena thought bitterly.
"Thank God I'm not human anymore, then. I had that beaten, raped, mutilated and conditioned out of me, twelve years and twelve hundred corpses ago. Maybe I should thank Rand for that, before I cut him open and remove his heart?" - cynically.
"If not for people like me, Ben, to a lesser degree... like Adam... like the Collective as a whole... the New Sons, or the ARC – actually no, forget the ARC, useless talking heads... there would never be change. Just hopes, fears and dreams of the oppressed, never being realised. While elitist, fearful, power-hungry scum, rules the world. Because the – little people – let them." - the aquiline woman shook her head.
"I'll leave you alone to finish your sweep." - walking out, as she left the softly sobbing Kelso behind.
"What would your brother, think of you now? And the messed-up way you see the world?!" - the other woman's voice behind, stopped her short, just past the doorway.
Yelena's eyes flashed, as a dozen emotions went through them, in quick succession. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes briefly. Then she turned halfway-around.
"Why don't you ask him." - significantly, to which Kelso lowered her gaze, looking uncomfortable. Without another word, she carried on, down the hallway.
Somewhere in France... two days later
The shadowy round table was only illuminated by the spillage of a single light above in the murky darkness, as the four holographic-formed individuals seemed to sit down. Volkard Rand, Stanton Dowd, Beth DuClare, and Morgan Everett. The only actual person in the room, was Lucius DeBeers.
The conspicuous absence of Bob Page, was immediately noticable.
The ageing, silver-haired eminence moved over to the only remaining vacant chair, and sat, laying his expensive ivory cane next to him on the table's edge. Then he steepled his hands in front of his face.
"Council is now in session. Volkard, would you be so kind as to grace us with the good news regarding the preliminaries to the Act's ratification?" - to which the bald figure to the left nodded.
"Stanton and I were successful in lobbying for political support from Senator Mead. I'll say this for the man, he has his appetite for campaign money-" - as Dowd interrupted dryly, "—perhaps more then is healthy for him..." - motioning Rand to continue.
"...but the results were worth the expense. With his – independent - coalition's current influence in the Congress, I've been assured that the vote will be very much in favour of the United States being a signatory to the Act. And with that kind of leverage, the UN will have little choice but to implement the Act worldwide... well... insofar to the extent of the United Nations's influence, of course." - he amended.
"Nevermind the Third World dregs. They're irrelevant, and every biotech company worth a damn outside of the UN's influence, has already been absorbed by our proxy. With or without the official umbrella, we will soon be able to put this genie back in the bottle where it belongs." - DuClare put in confidently.
Rand scowled at that, mirrored by DeBeers's slight tightening of expression. Small wonder, given their ongoing issues with UralPharma in Russia. DuClare was clearly hoping to gloss over that, given her personal stake in that operation. Too bad for her she was trying too hard.
Nice try, you frigid bitch. But thank you for walking me right into it, without having to broach the subject myself. Appreciate it.
He smiled inwardly.
"While I appreciate Beth's confidence, I'm afraid reality is shaping to be a bit less clear-cut then that. Need I remind the council, of the ongoing difficulties we face in Russia, and now, also increased pushback from Tai Yong Medical itself. The new leadership of TYM is becoming increasingly convinced of their indispensability to our purpose, and acting accordingly. Without someone we can control directly, in place, I'm concerned about them beginning to place their own interests, over those of this Council. The fact that they are so intimately intertwined with the PRC's levers of power, doesn't help either."
The silence that ensued, made it clear that his point had hit home. DuClare's holographic image glared daggers at him – small wonder – while Dowd and Everett looked thoughtful.
Lucius DeBeers spoke up.
"The issue of UralPharma is separate, and I have assigned Page to take a personal hand in resolving that particular situation, given his own connections in Russia, allowing us to focus fully on insuring the successful launch of the Act. But the-" - before Beth interrupted, somewhat tersely.
"I was wondering why Bob didn't join us today, Lucius. And I'm also wondering why you saw fit to exclude the Council from whichever scheme you have him working on, regarding UralPharma. Especially given our previous efforts to subvert the company."
"Our efforts, Beth? Or yours? Which were less then successful, I might point out." - Dowd put in, emphatically, as he caught Rand's eye, who gave him a microscopic nod of thanks, for support.
The woman's holographic image seemed to stiffen.
"It's still too early to make that determination! With the rogue agents exposed in Antigua, the path is clear for me to arrange for the release of our board members' frozen assets, and finger Madalyuk as the one unlawfully withholding them. That would shake up his political power base, and create mistrust in him, within his own party. With any luck-" - before DeBeers smoothly interrupted.
"Overreliance on luck, is one of the reasons I've decided to assign Bob to the issue. A fresh perspective." - significantly, his gaze squarely on DuClare.
And this time, the woman decided she'd had enough, eyes narrowing. She caught Everett's eye briefly, who also gave a microscopic nod. It was time to play the trump card, and shift the focus away from her own mistakes.
For his part, Morgan Everett was all too happy to let DuClare be the attacker, here. Just like her, he knew about Fedorova's history, given his own collaboration with Page. Just like her, he wasn't supposed to know. But unlike her, he had no intention of telegraphing that fact, to DeBeers and Rand. He liked keeping his future options open, and saw no point in alienating anyone. At least not for the time being.
"Be careful when you speak of overreliance on luck, Lucius. Since I could say the same about you, and Volkard here, regarding the unforseen consequences of the Triaxis initiative, a decade ago." - the woman spoke bluntly. She didn't mention Fedorova by name... yet... but what was left unspoken was louder then what she said.
DeBeers's entire expression changed, into something resembling suppressed outrage, mixed with a trace of unease. It was all Beth DuClare could do, to conceal a smirk. About time that her former mentor, felt some of the pressure she was now feeling, for over a year.
Truth be told, she didn't plan to bring it out like this, or betray the word she gave Lucius on the subject... but he and Rand had forced her hand. It was time for the blame to be spread around more... equitably.
But the Prima Illuminatus's reaction was all but buried, under a much more visible one by Rand, who looked positively incensed. And a touch – afraid.
"We're not here to discuss ancient history, or events that have no relevance to our current problems! The TYM is overreaching, and it is our job to make sure they don't compromise our long-term goals!" - in an uncharacteristically raised tone, for him, trying his best to refocus the discussion. But far too late.
Stanton Dowd frowned. Out of the five, he was the only one who didn't know the specifics, since augmentation research had never been his focus, and he was involved in his own projects, at the time.
"Triaxis? As I recall, one of our early biotech research initiatives. What consequences are you talking about, Beth?" - honestly curious.
"Will you tell him, Lucius? Or will you leave that to Volkard? Or should I save you the trouble?" - the woman's tone turned saccharine.
If looks could kill, DuClare would have dropped dead on the spot, at the heat of Lucius DeBeers's glare. She knew there would be hell to pay for this one, but frankly at this point, she didn't care. Despite their long-lasting friendship, the amount of scapegoating she was forced to do over the past year – not entirely undeservedly, but still – was more then she could stomach. And truth be told, the implications might shake up his position to the point that he won't dare to make an overt move to deal with her.
It was a gamble. A risky one, but potentially one that might pay off. Glancing again at Everett, she was slightly off-put by his silence. He was clearly happy to leave the spotlight to her.
Always hedging your bets, are you Morgan?
She thought. But – could she really blame him?
The silence reigned for another handful of heartbeats, before the old man nodded, his tone under control, his face settling into a mask of impassivity, in sharp contrast to Rand's... nervousness.
"Very well. It concerns one of the initiative's test subjects." - he began.
Panama City, the Collective safehouse...
For the past two days, things have progressed quickly. Once they made their way to Panama City after making sure their captured ship was secure and untraceable for the time being, Yelena was adamant to be in New York as soon as possible, following an update from Kelso's informant, confirming that Jamella was likely in Volkard Rand's custody, somewhere in the city. While the informant was unable to find out exactly where, without arousing suspicion, it was enough for Yelena. Once she got to New York, she would meet the informant directly, and get a more complete picture.
"Are you sure this is a good idea? We've barely had a chance to catch a breath, and I'm still not sure leaving Antigua damage control to those Cartel guys was smart. I know they're supposed to be on our side, but-" - Irwine began, before she cut him off.
"Ben personally vouched for them. That's good enough for me. And I didn't have time for detours. Every day – every hour wasted, is another hour for Jamella to suffer. I won't let that happen!" - firmly.
"Now that they brought back our belongings and equipment, and dealt with the loose ends there, I will be in New York before dawn tomorrow. I have already wasted two days here, waiting for our equipment to arrive!"
The aquiline woman barely even looked at him, busy getting into her thermoptic armour. For the past three hours since the equipment was delivered, she hadn't spent a single moment idle. Selecting the gear, weapons, and supplies to take with her, and pouring over detailed satellite maps of New York City.
The insertion was to be as bare-bones as possible, a stealth VTOL already being en-route from the Kiss, to land before midnight and pick her up, currently making a transatlantic flight from Europe, for the past six hours. Irwine marvelled at the Collective's readiness to assist, which he assumed was Quinn's doing.
Well, the old man does have a soft spot for Jam... no surprise there. Plus it makes sense – she knows a lot. I can imagine the kind of frenzy Janus was put in, when they found out about her capture!
"Look, all I'm saying is, you'll be going in totally cold! No contacts, aside from the informant, no backup, no groundwork – hell, you won't even be able to use your Steyn identity, now that it's been compromised. If you get scanned on any intellicams or drones, you'll have the city's whole police force on your ass! And I've got to believe Zelazny and Rand already put our descriptions out. Especially given the news coverage of the cruise incident! You saw it on Picus, yourself!" - the man pointed out.
"He's right. Plus, we need you here to help us plan the Newark operation." - Saxon put in, mostly staying out of it.
"No, you do not." - Yelena glanced at him briefly, "You need Irwine to make contact with Korbin's boys, and give them their marching orders, and you need Anna to use her old government contacts, to find out the precise date and time the TYM shipment will arive. And you yourself can do preliminary recon on the ground in Newark. I have seen your schematics, Ben. There is very little I can do that you can't. As long as it doesn't involve prolonged activity under cloak."
"Once you finalise your preparations, you can contact me, and let me know when to infiltrate the facility itself, and the likely routes to choose. Until then, you will not need me for any of it." - she pointed out.
"And if you get made, while on the ground in New York? What then? We won't be able to pull you out, without exposing ourselves!" - Saxon objected.
"I'm not expecting you to. In fact..." - she turned to Irwine, "Major, this is a direct order. No matter what happens to me, you will not compromise the operation to extract me, or Jamella. I'll arrange for our own way out, when the time comes, if I can. Until then, we will lie low in the city. And for Anna's informant, if possible. You will stay focused on the operation." - seriously.
This was practically the first time she had directly pulled rank, on Irwine. The man's mouth dropped open.
"Yelena, you can't possibly expect me to just leave you to get killed, if it comes to that! You pulled me out, two years ago, on the airport in St. Peterburg! And then saved my ass in Mayrhofen. I owe you TWICE! You bet your ass I'll come if-" - angrily, but she cut him off again.
"You have your orders. And I expect you to follow them." - icily. Not giving either of them another look, she stepped over to the safehouse's intercom.
"ETA on the VTOL?" - she demanded.
~"Approximately forty-five minutes."~ - came the reply.
As she was turning back towards the equipment, Irwine stepped in front of her. Eyes full of concern.
"In that case, don't get made... Colonel. Because if you do, I will disobey that order. And you damn well know it!" - quietly, but firmly, reaching a hand up to cup her cheek. Studying the face of a woman he had come to love so, so deeply.
Then he pulled her in for a kiss. For a moment, she tensed, just like she did that first time, two years ago under a bridge in St. Peterburg. Then she melted into it. Unlike that first time, this time her tension wasn't born out of ambivalence, but... relief, mixed with fatalism.
"I'll uh... I'll give you two some privacy." - Saxon murmured, making his way out.
Their kiss lasted for a seeming eternity, before she disengaged, eyes filled with tears.
"Irw... I have to do this. I owe her. I owe her for her forgiveness, and for giving me a new family. If I've never done anything else deserving of that forgiveness, this is it! I will NOT let her go through, what I did. I couldn't save my family. All I can do is avenge them. But I can save her! And I will. No matter what it takes." - she whispered.