So, How's the Man Slave?

[Squee]

[continuing off of Tight Rope. Clicky. Also, took a little liberty here... I don't think anyone will mind, though.]

Echo couldn’t take the dishes to the galley. Instead, her feet carried were toward her personal room. Her mind churned with all kinds of muddle and nonsense, and while she was burning pleasantly there was a hot nervousness that sat heavy inside her lower stomach. She paused outside November’s closed door, a spare thought encouraging her to check that the other woman was doing fine. Echo knew she was back because the door had been open earlier. The door was closed now, however, which meant she probably didn’t wish to be bothered. Delta had given November the door freedom after she’d helped on Ylesia and Echo was more than agreement with that decision. A little sigh, and Echo scooted along.

The door opened with the softest sound Echo had ever known. The plates were left sitting on the ground beside the door. Bouncing onto the bed, Echo sat cross-legged, leaning over and twisting the pistol from facing the wall to pointing at the door. Then she sat in silence, studying the wrinkles on the bed, forearms propped on her knees. After several extended moments, Echo touched the tips of her fingers to her lips, remembering the delightful shock. She smirked. He said he liked it. She rubbed a knuckle across her lips and tugged on her lower with thumb and knuckle.

A silly idea shot across her brain. What if Delta had tugged on my lips? The thought made her breath cut as she entertained it a second… or two. Then she burst into a wild giggle, quickly tugging her three pillows into an incomplete box and wriggled beneath the covers. The crown of her red-haired head was the only thing poking out from underneath. He wouldn’t ever. And Echo giggled again before falling asleep, the light left on.




The gentle knock awoke her instantly. But her hand shot out from under the pillow she was hugging with almost inhumane speed, grasping the pistol on the nightstand. She dared not breathe as her brain caught up, clearing.

“Echo?”

Delta. Her grip on the pistol relaxed, lying the weapon flat. She shoved the pillow away and crawled from under the blanket. Slowly standing and crossing the floor, Echo raised the strap of her shirt back onto her shoulder and straightened the wrinkles. Her hand crawled from her forehead back, trying to flatten any craziness in her hair.

“Echo?” She pressed the button opening the door.

“Yea?”

“Oh! I was… just coming to tell you that I’m going to go get the supplies we talked about. You know… after we sent November out.” His large fingers toyed with the datapad he held. “So… I’ll be back.” Echo raised her eyes back up to see he was looking at her. He smiled a little. “I’ll be back. Tell November.”

“Okay.” Another smile braced his mouth before he turned and wandered away. Echo stood in the doorway, leaning sideways until her shoulder pressed into the frame. Delta’s back was gone, but she remained, her gaze falling onto the cool metal floor as she listened for the boarding ramp to lower. And then even, after she heard the rumbling noise, Echo remained stationary, her mind lagging as she sorted out what needed to be done today. A diagnostic needed to be run on the ship’s computers, she recalled, turning back into her room. The pistol’s grip was familiar as she checked the safety was on before shoving it in the waistband of her pants. On the way out of the room, Echo stooped to take up the plates, knowing they needed to be cleaned as soon as possible. Maybe she should make breakfast for her and November…

Something felt… wrong. Not wrong, misplaced… or violated. As soon as Echo turned into the galley, keen gray eyes captured the image why. The plates fell from her hands unceremoniously as she leapt forward diagonally. The pistol was in her hands and safety thumbed off by the time the plates shattered, and she poised, her finger hovering on the trigger. But Echo didn’t shoot. The violation looked wrong.

He wasn’t moving. Echo lowered the pistol, now studying the slumped figure with both eyes. Dark hair, some sharp features, tanned skin, bound efficiently… Echo cautiously approached the man, pistol angled down but held professionally. Thank the stars that the plates were plastic... Focus. His binds were tight, so Echo flicked back on the safety and replaced the weapon in her waistband. She touched the man’s shoulder, and he shifted, so she yanked her hand away, frowning.

Down the hall she went, coming to November’s door. Echo raised a fist and banged it loudly into the door. “November?! November! Why is there a tied up man in my kitchen?!”

[Kella]

November was facing Echo.

Whitish blue mist surrounded them. It swirled, obscuring Echo. It settled, and Delta was in her place. Then the mist swirled again, and she saw Yankee. And then Alpha. Then Golf. And on, and on.

All twenty six.

Not twenty-five, because she saw herself.

"November," Her voice said. But then the face morphed into Echo. "November," she said. Echo had no expression. "Why is there a tied up man in my kitchen?"

November bolted upright, her consciousness colliding with reality. The pounding from her door sent shuddering pain through her head. November scrubbed her temples.

This is why she had not dosed herself with sedatives before. Why was echo pounding on her door? She'd asked a question... hadn't she? She had.

November stumbled across the room to her door, finally getting her feet under her. She winced as her head throbbed again, feeling for the button to the door. She saw Echo, looking illogically distressed.

"Obviously so he doesn't escape..."

She turned back from the door, shuffling towards the sink. The handle screeched as she twisted it, and November winced again. The water flowed, and she buried her face in it.

November was immediately awake. Her headache dissolved in the wake of the freezing water. She gasped, but stood straight, her head in right places again. I'm going to have to learn to deal with these emotions. The pros of drugging up did not outweigh the cons, she decided.

Finally, she turned back to Echo.

Echo did not seem reassured by November's answer. Her answer was perfectly logical following the question. She'd asked why there was a man tied up in the kitchen. No, but wait... November's head was clearing. She'd asked why there was a tied-up man in the kitchen. So it wasn't why he was tied up, by why he was in the kitchen.

"The kitchen was the most secure location."

Surely that would ease her distress.

[Squee]

November… didn’t look to good. Just woken up. Groggy. More so than usual, Echo thought. Echo stepped forward, clasping her hands on her arms, and leaning her back onto the doorframe. November didn’t wear her braids, which Echo found rather odd. When was the last time she’d… wait, maybe November just hadn’t put them in yet. Nothing odd with that. However, something of change choked the air in here, other than November’s morning behavior.

The mirror was broken. It tipped Echo off as… terrifying, curious, and irritating. She was going to have to fix it by purchasing a new one some time when they could afford spending credits on less-needed things. For now, November was simply going to have to see herself broken into tiny pieces. It was interesting that November had broken it. Why? For what purpose? Whatever that reason was, for some reason, it caused a certain type of fear within Echo. Not so much as fear of November. A fear in… something more abstract.

Never mind for now.

November’s first response confused Echo. So he doesn’t escape? Well the man certainly wasn’t going to escape! Echo hadn’t a doubt in November’s capturing skills. It was a skill long since learned, as well as a process of interrogation. Many processes of interrogation. Lies and deceit, threats and punishments, brutality and blood, butter-ups and reward, good cop and bad cop… Did November need something from the man?

“No, November,” Echo said, arms falling to her sides. “Like why is he here in the first place? Who is he? Information? Does he know about us? Wait…” Echo blinked, a face ripping through the forefront of her mind. “… Victor…” Another face passed by. “… Whiskey, Xray, Yankee… Yankee? You have Yankee tied up in there!” Echo spluttered some, taking a step back out of fear. “Is he the only one? Are there more of them out there? How many? Oh! Delta left only a few minutes ago! We need to get away as soon as he returns!

“What do you know?”

[Kella]

Echo seemed to be having an oddly aroused reaction to the situation. At least she seemed to be thinking clearly enough to have recognized Yankee. November did not have intimate knowledge of all her fellow coworkers, but at the very least, she'd learned all their faces and general areas of skill over the years. Yankee, for instance, excelled at throwing knives and tracking.

November looked at herself in the fragmented mirror. This caused her some displeasure. However, she was eased by her confidence in her spatial reasoning skills. She divided her hair into precise thirds and began to braid.

"He's here because I brought him here, you answered your second question, As for information, I was returning from the market when he ambushed me. However, I was able to set off one of my gas canisters, and we were both knocked out," she paused to brush a knot out of her hair, "But I recovered first and detained him. He was unable to send any transmission after the moment he attacked. Green Meadows doesn't know he's here."

She'd reached the end of one braid, and fastened it with a tie. "According to the feedback system on my latest mission, it is unlikely they know we were spotted in this city, but likely that they know we're on this planet. So yes, it is best to move on as quickly as possible. However, we do have some time, as Green Meadows does not yet know that he's been detained." She started on the second braid. "To answer your fifth question, yes, he's the only one. Your sixth and seventh questions are redundant. And as for the last, I scored perfectly on the Weschler Abstract Mathamatics Inventory, the Kensington Scale of Problem Solving, and missed only one question on the King Amalgamated Intelligence Scale. That should speak for itself."

She fastened the second braid, noting through a shard of mirror that the bandage on her hand had slipped. She removed it, checking the cut. It was shallow, and there was no longer threat of infection, so she let the bandage fall into the trash basin.

She remembered how she'd gotten that cut, but the memory was... fuzzy. A side effect of the sedative. How disadvantageous, this bug in her programming, and how it had caused her to malfunction last night. But she would avoid it. It was nothing of consequence.

November stepped towards the door, pausing at the door frame as she passed Echo. For the first time in the conversation, she actually looked... thoughtful.

"He had a very... interesting response to an amphetamine stimulant." She slipped past Echo, walking slowly for her coworker's benefit. Her hand rubbed the back of her neck, "It could have some implications for us..."

She realized then that she hadn't put shoes on. Small matter. The cold metal felt good on her feet anyway.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, not looking back. "I can prepare food."

[Squee]

The way November broke apart her questions and efficiently answered them with some stray comments… Echo thought the air froze over. It bothered her just a little. November made her feel like… a bad kid. Like those times Echo failed to deliver a combination upon the punching bag and one instructor would scold her in a chilly voice. Echo didn’t have much… feeling within the memory. It was just a memory. But reflecting upon it, Echo had put feeling into it. And it didn’t feel nice.

So while November braided her pretty hair and coldly answered her questions, Echo averted her eyes, annoyed. Her fingers played with each other and the corners of her lips dragged into a frown. Why couldn’t November talk like her? Like Delta? With… stuff behind her words. Warm stuff, at least. She drove a nail under another, driving the something that had been stuck under there for a couple of days now. Well… maybe the warmth didn’t need to be in the answers. But… less cold. Could November help it or did she like only to pride herself in her intelligence over Echo?

“I’m leading martial artist of five forms and knowledge of two others. I’ve beaten all my instructors except my one disqualification due to a misused elbow. Unanimous, submitter, KO-er, killer.” The memories visualized behind her eyes. She barely won against her first instructor. She nearly crushed her second instructor’s wrist with a lock. She DID break her third instructor’s leg. One temple punch dropped another man she… couldn’t place. “Perfect Likert Statistics Analyze, could have a doctorate in electrical and computer engineering, and that’s on top of hundreds of different ways to kill.”

Echo wasn’t quite sure what provoked that response. Her chest was puffed out with her arms crossed before it. All she knew was she wasn’t going to let November simply get away boasting her greatness without hearing Echo’s. “So… a bunch of tests designed to be dominated by others and are irrelevant to the given line of questioning.” November examined a cut on her hand, and, beneath that irritant layer emanated by Echo was a short pang of concern. However, Echo ignored it and November seemed undisturbed by it.

“Anything else?”

"He had a very... interesting response to an amphetamine stimulant. It could have some implications for us... Are you hungry? I can prepare food."

“I was actually going to make breakfast before I discovered Yankee sitting in my kitchen. I still have to pick up the plates off of the floor. But… if you want to, go ahead. I’ll do dinner.” She followed November into the ship’s hallway, chewing on her lip as she searched her memory. “Amphetamine. You were trying to wake him up? How’d that go?” Echo glanced at Yankee cautiously as they entered the kitchen. Amphetamine? There were better ways of waking a man up… “In what way does it relate to us?”

[Kella]

November listened patiently as Echo recounted her own accomplishments. They were all consistent with her knowledge of Echo.

She simply nodded at them. "Yes, that is one of the reasons this team has such a high probability of succeeding."

As they neared the kitchen, she used a question to validate her inference that November had been attempting to wake Yankee.

"No, he was quite awake," she said, "But I was curious as to what would happen. I assume you've come to the same conclusion as I, that the cranial chip implants do more than track us and allow us to operate our weapons." She subconsciously rubbed the base of her skull. "Due to our altered sensation of pain, I deduced that they have some level of influence over the behavior of either neurotransmitters or action potential. Amphetamines change the behavior of neurotransmitters, and since Yankee's abnormal reaction indicates the chip has influence over neurotransmitters." She was quite accustomed to explaining things. She often had to explain her thought processes to the scientists. Once, she'd walked them through solving a mathematical proof that they had thought unprovable. The memory of their surprised expressions filled her with satisfaction. There, she'd had to imitate their expressions and mannerisms. Here, among those who thought as she did, such adaptation was not necessary. Or perhaps it was. November would reassess that conclusion later.

She stepped through the kitchen doorway, her eyes immediately centering on Yankee. He was still unconscious, and still bound. His sweat had evaporated, leaving the slightest dusting of salt behind. She noted the plates on the ground, and sine Echo had mentioned she intended on cleaning them up, November stepped over them.

"Since we have similar chips," she said, "Our own neurotransmitters are being influenced. Which could cause many different symptoms." Her mind flickered to her moments of unnecessary stress-response and black-outs. A chip malfunction was certainly a salient possibility.

November felt a puff of cool air as she opened the refrigeration compartment and extracted a padded carton. It held two fist-sized eggs, cold to the touch. Beads of water immediately began to collect on the surface. She examined them closely.

Water was an element like no other. For example, under high pressures, it became a liquid not a solid. Its surface tension was remarkable... Her enhanced eyes provided her perception the fine details of mottled surface of the egg, and the droplets. The flecks of light blue and the way the water bent the light, but preserved its sharpness satisfied her someone. Not in a purely scientific way, as satisfaction did not follow logically from this observation. But something... else.

Perhaps the chip was altering her perceptions. She could not be held responsible for that.

The stove radiated heat as she started it, looking to her eidatic memory for the location of the skillet. This she found, and in short time had cracked the eggs into it. They sizzled and emitted an aroma, which she noted, but had little reaction to. Cooking eggs cost time, but it made the protein more presentable, and eliminated the risk of food poisoning. A worthwhile exchange.

[Squee]

“Okay…” Echo said, having to rethink over what November was telling her. She stooped and picked up the plastic plates as well as collected the utensils that had scattered from the drop. A part of her consciousness floated around Yankee, aware of him at all times, her trust in him next to nil, just as it had been with November. But November had earned some trust. Perhaps their brother Yankee could to, if time allowed.

Brother… Echo’s eye suddenly swam with images of darkened corridors. Shifts of a couple of men… no, more than a couple, but her gaze was focused on the young man whose eyes mirrored her own. The dark brown hair unlike hers but a similar nose. His hand offered her to the man with the charcoal eyes. Echo blinked and shook her head, shuddering and swallowing at the memory. Some brothers were loyal to one another in the tales, but not Brennan. Sometimes siblings were the ultimate enemy in the fables. She’d heard that Delta had blown up the entire building. Echo hoped Brennan was dead, like all her enemies.

Can you be a better brother, Yankee? Echo saw Yankee and she saw their training. And the memory of training felt like a void, a hole in her past. The hole, if Echo was understanding, was caused by the chips, which had sucked down emotional reactions with monstrous appetite, because Echo knew she was missing feelings from her training. The fighting back on Commenor was similar to some staged fights in training. She was missing the excitement and panic. So, was her chip totally disabled? She had believed, with Delta, that she had been broken. Well… she was broken, Echo now concluded. But was that such a bad thing?

Looking at Yankee, feeling sad for him the way she did, Echo decided no. Being broken wasn’t a bad thing. Looking at November, feeling a mixture of envy and happiness, no, it wasn’t bad. In fact, it was good, since she thought November might be feeling things too. And then thinking of Delta, Echo subconsciously touched her lips as she placed the plates in the sink. That can’t be bad, could it? If it were bad, Echo wouldn’t want that, right? No, she wanted those feelings toward Delta, and she knew she didn’t want to give them up.

She ran water over the plates and picked at the remnants of stuck food with her nail before picking up the scrub brush. “Okay then. I…” She paused and looked back at Yankee slumped in his seat with a frown. November… had experimented on him to reach the possible explanation behind the chips. “Why, November? What does it matter?” Echo turned off the water then set the plate and brush down. “Are you… going to disable it? The chip, that is.” She rested her back against the counter. If November needed, or wanted, to experiment on Yankee, would that be okay?

[Kella]

“Why, November? What does it matter?” Echo readjusted to more prominently feature the conversation in her mental estate. “Are you… going to disable it? The chip, that is.” November wondered momentarily if there was something more to the question, that Echo wasn't asking, but November couldn't be held responsible for that. If Echo wanted an answer, she should just ask the question.

Though, the question Echo had asked left November a bit affronted. "It matters because it is knowledge, and all knowledge is valuable, especially knowledge that's relevant to us. One of the few statistical certainties is that, in our line of work, something unpredictable will happen. It is best to be prepared in any way possible." What was their line of work, anyway?

"And no, I'm not going to disable them. Not deliberately. I am not a neurosurgeon, I am a chemist. What I've observed suggests that the chip has regulatory functions in the brain, preventing..." November paused to click through words. None of them had the right connotations... She flipped the eggs. "Undesired... unproductive mental activity. However, it seems as if the chips are shutting themselves down... so manual deactivation might be redundant..." November's brow furrowed subconsciously. She realized this as she slid the eggs onto plates, and relaxed her expression. Her conclusions were only furthered. Previously, she had to mentally construct every expression, but now...

November swallowed. Now there were more important things to attend to. She slid a plate towards Echo, then turned to Yankee. His hair was plastered against his forehead, so she brushed it away, combing her fingers through to loose the salt. She pressed the back of her hand against his forehead; slightly warmer than usual. But that was to be expected. Then, with two fingers, she found his jugular vein and kept time. 40 beats per minute -- normal for someone in his physical condition. No anomalies.

[Squee]

“Does the degeneration cause him pain? Or… you pain?” Or me pain? I don’t feel any pain. The lack of pain might be further evidence of her complete deactivation. If it caused him pain, then perhaps it was best to find a way to turn it off. Captive and possible enemy or not, the thought of someone suffering did not appeal to Echo. Her mind went to the stories she’d read, and what glimpses of galactic news she’d indulged. Even to the sections of training she could remember. Fingers, ears severed, cuttings on the soft inner thighs and under arms, water…

No. Echo blinked away the images, feeling her blood stirring, her heart rate rising. Her fingers were squeezing the edge of the counter, and she found herself staring at Yankee as cold anger seeped from her. He would not rattle in his bonds with blood weeping like horrible red tears from his wounds. Not like they had found that woman a few weeks ago on that one planet or something like that. Not like…

Stop.

“Because if it’s hurting him, it’s not… I hate copying your words. I should be able to think of my own. It is not redundant to find a way to turn it off. Even if it results in unwanted behavior. Better to have noncontributing mental patterns than to be suffering every few seconds, moments, minutes, hours… other increments of time.”

Echo shoved herself away from the counter, picking up her plate of eggs. She walked over to the seat opposite from Yankee and sat down carefully. Grey eyes flickered over the unconscious man, overseeing November brush her fingers against his forehead and check a couple of vitals. Using her fingers, Echo tore at her egg and lifted the strips to her lips absentmindedly.

What’re you doing here, Yankee? Where’d you come from? What’s your purpose? What’s your goal? Echo realized that she was asking more than one question. Purpose was different from goal. Goal was the end result. Purpose was the reason. If Yankee could tell them his purpose, perhaps it was the same for her and Delta and November.

“Feed him. When he wakes up.” Echo swallowed her last bit of egg and licked each of her fingers in turn. She stood to wash this plate as well. “I don’t want him starved or thirsty. Perhaps, if he wants, he can join us. But he won’t like us if we make him hunger and thirst. And also…” Echo may be shorter than November by three inches, but her eyes were stone whereas November’s glittered like pretty emeralds. “Your studies had better not bring him pain.” Echo was a slightly chillier than she’d wanted to be but the words were said and her point had been delivered.

As she washed her plate, Echo’s thoughts wandered to what needed to be finished by the end of today. The diagnostic on the ship, examination of the outer hull, scanning the computers… Mostly inside work. She paused a moment, hand resting on the sink. Had Delta checked their cleaning supplies? Hygienic for people and their equipment? Her lips pursed thoughtfully. She hadn’t thought about it yesterday. She’d only worried about their food and that… one part and wire they needed for the engine. It could work just fine without it, but Delta said he’d check anyway.

“I may need to leave to insure that we have all proper supplies. I was just reminded of something.” Echo set the plate in the sink and left it there as she turned to exit. “Be gentle.”

[Kella]

“Does the degeneration cause him pain? Or… you pain?”

November prepared to brush off the question. What did it matter whether it caused him pain or not? The Green Meadows scientists had caused her pain many times, and every time, it had benefited them or her in some way. She could understand their motivations. Yet, the second, more hesitant part of the question piqued a few memories.

The blackness, the incredible pain, the disorientation, the coming to awareness on the ground. This was the curse of having such a sharp mind; connections were made and memories recalled even when not advantageous. November occupied her mind checking the security of Yankee's bonds. Business as usual was the key to staying focused.

"The probability that it causes him pain is significant. I have experienced some anomalies, including pain, that I have concluded to be the result of the degeneration of the chip."

"Because if it’s hurting him, it’s not… I hate copying your words. I should be able to think of my own. It is not redundant to find a way to turn it off. Even if it results in unwanted behavior. Better to have noncontributing mental patterns than to be suffering every few seconds, moments, minutes, hours… other increments of time."

What a peculiar question. November was used to peculiar challenges, but she was not used to those peculiar challenges coming from her coworkers. It was abnormal. Highly abnormal. Echo had indeed been peculiar lately, but November had calculated a high probability of Echo returning to normal function. And yet, every abnormal action made that probability get smaller and smaller. This comment once more decreased the value.

"That is not logical," November said, and she could not help the shade of irritation in her tone. "Erroneous thoughts can be the difference between life and death. They are more disruptive to completing the objective than pain. We were trained to endure pain. However, I did not face erroneous thoughts during my training. I have little experience in neutralizing them. In fact, restoring some of the regulatory effects would be quite beneficial to our survival. However, it is unlikely that I have the necessary expertise to accomplish that."

"Feed him. When he wakes up. I don’t want him starved or thirsty. Perhaps, if he wants, he can join us. But he won’t like us if we make him hunger and thirst. And also… Your studies had better not bring him pain."

'Incredulous' was the word November was looking for, but could not quite find, to describe her feeling. What did him 'like'-ing them have anything to do with anything? 'Like' was an emotion, a weakness. She did not want Yankee to 'like' them, she wanted him to realize that they had mutually beneficial goals. Echo, who had shown, on numerous occasions, that her grasp on mental clarity was loosening, was telling November what to do. Yet, November kept her expression blank. She did not forget the fragile condition of Echo's trust. Her thoughts were still her own, however. Could it be possible that Echo was poisoned? Had she somehow consumed one of November's mind-altering drugs? Had November made the mistake of leaving one of her poisons out? ... had she drugged Echo and forgotten? It was possible...

No. No it was not possible. November's mind was far too sharp. She would remember. She would. Furthermore, Echo displayed none of the other side effects that accompanied any of the cocktails in November's repertoire. She was not under the influence of any of November's poisons.

November nodded at Echo. She feigned easy agreement, but her mind resisted the gesture of submission. See, had she not told Echo that erroneous thoughts were more dangerous than pain!

"I will be humane," she assured Echo. "And I will keep his body sustained."

"I may need to leave to insure that we have all proper supplies. I was just reminded of something." That value which ensured the return of Echo's sanity elevated slightly. November approved, and nodded. She turned away from Yankee and toward the sink to attend to the dishes.

"Be gentle," Echo said, as she turned to leave.

"I will," November answered, resisting a sense of surprise at herself. She had known that this would fit the character of her future actions, without any logical derivation or conclusion. She had known.

November set the water to flowing again, and stared at the column for a moment.

How had she known?