The Rogue Thread: (Book 2 of FERTS) Read online

  Officer Tor wound the rope around 201, securing her to the undercarriage of the cart. 201 slumped back, eyes closing, her strength leaving her. He tried to ignore the sounds at first, as 201 whispered nonsensical words under her breath. She spoke of bones and fires and a pit, of logs of wood, the metal of an axe in a sea of orange. Officer Tor leaned his head closer to 201, her whispers now barely audible.

  “They think they will be venerated when they fall,” she whispered, head lolling to the side. “Bones in a pit, that’s all they are.”

  Officer Tor shook his head. “Quiet,” he said. “It is because of you that I do not get to sleep tonight.”

  201 leaned up, gripping the front of his uniform. She moved her head to whisper in his ear. “The bones. They are hollow, just like us.” 201 sighed, falling back to rest her head in the wooden ledge at the side of the cart.

  Officer Tor backed off, prising her fingers from the fabric, a scowl crossing his face.

  201 exhaled, her words spoken softly under her breath. “They are still there. All of them. Still there. They don’t know…”

  – 19 –

  The cart passed unusual rock formations, rings and patterns marking the sides of the towering stone walls. Some of the patterns looked familiar to 201, but she was certain she had not seen anything like them before. One of the markings appeared to have been carved by hand. There was no way that such a symbol could be naturally occurring in such a remote and secluded place as this.

  299 kicked 201’s shin, barking out at laugh when 201 clutched her leg. 201 took a deep breath, looking out between the bars, ignoring 299’s attempts to get her attention.

  201 looked more closely at the symbol scratched in the stone. It appeared to have been carved with a tool, perhaps another rock, although 201 could not be certain. The symbol was unlike anything she had seen before, either in dreams or her waking state.

  The symbol started as a curved line, gradually winding outwards from the middle until it just… stopped. 201’s eyes widened as they passed the rock, following the path of the symbol with her eyes.

  This. This. It is important. This means something.

  “What’s the matter, 201? Thinking about Reno, hmm? Or perhaps Officer Tor? I must say I would enjoy either… or both.” The cart broke out in laughter at 299’s words.

  201 ignored them, following the symbol again and again with her eyes. It seemed to her that it was a path, leading from the middle to outside. It felt… familiar. It was as if it told a story of some kind. 201 thought of the nights spent alone in her chambers at FERTS with nothing but her own mind to keep her company. To 201, this was a symbol of hope. Perhaps it had different meanings for whoever saw it. Perhaps the meaning was lost to all who had seen it, a long time ago.

  “From the inside.” She traced the symbol in the air with her finger, muttering to herself. “From the inside to the outside. Could that be what it means? A path?”

  “What are you talking about, 201? You are making no sense, as usual,” 263 snapped at her. The Epsilon Fighters began talking amongst themselves, speaking of veneration and the adulation they would receive for defeating the mercenaries who dared to strike against FERTS. The words were always the same, always the same, whether it was Epsilon, Beta or Omega Circuit, the words were repeated, almost as if the Pinnacle Officer himself were speaking them. 201 wondered why she had not noticed this before. The words, no matter what they were or who spoke them came from one place and once place only. FERTS.

  201 tuned out the voices, focusing on the symbol in her mind. She wished to carve it deep into the wood of the cart, but there was nothing she could have used without drawing attention to herself. She contented herself with tracing the symbol in her mind, watching as it appeared behind her eyes. She drew the symbol again and again, making sure she would remember it so she could keep it within herself, locked away. It felt strong, protective somehow.

  That night, 201 slept in the cart with the Epsilon Fighters. 299 had made a declaration not to attack 201 in her sleep, and 201 had been forced to do the same.

  The thought of doing such a thing had occurred to her many times, though the other Epsilon Fighters would never allow her to leave the cart after she had expired one of their own. Of course, Reno would not take kindly to a trainee expiring one of his most celebrated Fighters. He would be forced to expire her in order to appease the Epsilon Fighters. It was clear that 299 was not worth it and no matter how briefly satisfying the thought may have been, she wasn’t sure that she could have gone through with it. It mattered not that she had done it once before. It did not necessarily mean she would wish to do it again, especially not while there were other, more important matters to consider.

  A plan was forming around the edges of her consciousness, not yet solid, unformed. She allowed her mind to make connections and compare options. It was not her business to interfere with the process. It was time to watch, and listen.

  Later that night 201 felt herself slipping off to sleep. The Epsilon Fighters were motionless, 299’s snores reverberating from the other end of the cart.

  All 201 could see at first was the strange symbol from the rock.

  She started from the middle, the same as before, following the line as it angled ever so slightly outwards, around and around until 201 felt almost dizzy with the sensation. The symbol spoke to her. It did not use words, as one might speak to a companion. It was more of a feeling, a sense, something from the past, so long ago, yet it seemed as if it was real, it was now, and somehow she felt this symbol was for her to see and understand, as if it were meant for her alone.

  The symbol disappeared, scattering like leaves in a strong breeze. She found herself in a midst of a group, gathered around a fire. There were so many here, more than 201 had ever seen outside of FERTS. She was sure that the faces she saw were no longer here, expired perhaps, she could not be certain, but felt it to be true.

  The first thing she noticed was that there were no insignia, nothing to indicate Y numbers or anything like that. It was also clear that they, at least many of them, were over limit. This was something she had not seen with her own eyes, not in the real, the tangible reality as she understood it. She had seen a 25Y once, but that was only for a brief moment. Outside her dreams and the travels in her mind, she had not seen a group so large, defying any known category she could find for them.

  The faces smiled and repeated strange words, joining hands and gathering strange plants, placing them one by one on the fire as they spoke of things that had no meaning to 201. They were words 201 had not heard before. 201 wondered if others used those words, if they were in use today or if they were lost forever.

  One of them drew the symbol on the ground, the shape appearing in the dirt as she dragged the stick behind her, walking outwards from the middle of the symbol.

  Once the symbol was drawn, the others…

  Women

  Yes, that is what they were. Women, perhaps the ones that Officer Titan had once spoken about, the ones from long ago that may have been like her in some way. 201 knew they were no longer here. This was just a remnant of what had once been, before the Pinnacle Officer, before FERTS.

  They seemed so different to anything 201 had seen before, so unlike her, but perhaps that was just perception, conditioning, what she had been taught since being birthed in FERTS. She was not taught to understand such things and yet she longed to be a part of this… whatever this was.

  The group joined hands. They raised their voices together, repeating the words in unison. They walked to various positions around the symbol, seating themselves on the ground and simply closing their eyes. 201 watched, waiting for something, a sign that something was happening, but it never came.

  The group just sat together, eyes closed.

  201 was confused, focusing on their faces, but none of them moved. They remained still, as if they were waiting for something.

  201 projected her awareness to join the group, sitting in an empty spot near the symbo
l. She kept her eyes open. None of the group acknowledged her presence.

  She tried squinting her eyes, closing them and opening them again.

  Nothing.

  She tried keeping her eyes open, softening her gaze to allow for peripheral movement. That was the moment everything changed. She no longer saw a group of… women sitting around a symbol. Instead she saw a glow emanating from the symbol, streams of light, green, red, pink and orange stretching out from each of the women and intertwining with each other. The streams, no… the essences from the women joined together, winding up into the night sky where thousands of stars peered down at them. Their combined essence grew stronger, more unified and 201 began to understand. Now, right now, they were seeing, just as she did. The stronger the connection, the stronger the messages, the stronger the images that filtered through the group, streaming to each of the women seated on the ground.

  I am one of them.

  Perhaps there were others like her. Perhaps she would find another in the camp who would understand, perhaps even in FERTS, that is, if they had not already been sent to Zeta for being a defective.

  Maybe she was not the only one.

  A voice rose up in her head, as if in answer to a question she had not yet asked. A voice she did not recognize, but knew all the same.

  Before I was expired I did not see. Now I see everything. I am bound to him 201, just as he is now bound to you.

  She found herself staring through glass, a rust-tinged liquid filtering her view. She was in Wilcox’s chambers. A wardrobe, a keyhole, a sliver of light meant only for blue eyes.

  My eyes are blue and I see everything.

  She watched through the murky liquid within the jar, Pinnacle Officer Wilcox’s sweaty form filling her consciousness, making her nauseous. He writhed on the bed, his bald head glistening, peeking from the coverings. A Beta Internee lay beneath him, eyes clenched shut.

  The voice returned, filling 201's senses.

  Thinks he is so clever, making me watch like this. To him, it is parts, pieces, sections that make up the whole. He believes the eyes still see. But he would be wrong. I am Beth, and I see everything. I am the breeze that blows through the forest near the suspension zone, I am the rocks, the pebbles, the shrubs, the craggy mountains and winding streams. I am the forest, the creatures, the sky, the sliver of the moon at night, the orb when it is full. I am the stars, the blanket, the canopy of life from which we began. I am Beth, and I see everything.

  201 gasped, spinning her awareness to face the sound. She saw a glass jar, a jar filled with liquid that burned the senses. The blue eyes floating within, bobbing, lid tightly secured, clear, precise label faded with time.

  Beth #1. 26Y.

  – 20 –

  Pinnacle Officer Cerberus surveyed his new office. He had removed all traces of Pinnacle Officer Wilcox save for one. The jar he had found within the wardrobe had amused him. So, Pinnacle Officer Wilcox had a weakness after all. It was pathetic, really. How Wilcox could be so affected, so sentimental about a common Vassal, if indeed that was what she was. He placed the odd memento on a shelf, a heartening reminder of how an Officer, even the Pinnacle Officer, could be compromised by attachment. He pondered the jar, suspecting that Wilcox had enjoyed her eyes on him throughout the day, and he supposed, during the nights as well. What a curious desire, he thought. The former Pinnacle Officer had been… unusual in his thinking, to say the least. Whatever his reasons may have been, they were now lost, along with much of his original vision. Yet Cerberus made it his duty to carry on the legacy of Wilcox, no matter how strange, as Wilcox had brought peace to the Forkstream Territories. The system had worked up until now, and he would strive to continue the development of Wilcox’s vision while adding some improvements of his own.

  Pinnacle Officer Cerberus returned to his desk, formulating the plans for the new Ward Beacon. The old model had been clumsy, ineffective. Efficiency was required now. Pinnacle Officer Wilcox had often been set in his thinking. Once something worked, it was not to be tampered with, and this had been an effective system, until now.

  The plans for the implant markers were fascinating. A giddy feeling welled up within him as he turned each page, revealing the inner processes, the information that he had coveted for so long, but had never had the privilege to observe.

  To his annoyance, he learned that the implant markers were old technology, surplus from a stockpile amassed during the war. There would be no more manufacturing of such items, not at this time. There would have to be an alternative method to solve the security problems of the facility.

  He wondered if it was possible to approach the challenge from the opposite perspective. The implant markers were a receiver. That was how Pinnacle Officer Wilcox had engineered the system. The improvements would need to be applied to the Ward Beacon itself. One improvement to the Ward Beacon could provide a multitude of benefits for the facility.

  Cerberus ran a hand through his hair. He had much to learn from the Pinnacle Officer, despite his own abilities. Pinnacle Officer Wilcox was a scientist and a surgeon who possessed a brilliant mind, there was no doubt of that, but he was no engineer. Cerberus knew engineering. It had been his chosen field before the war, and coupled with his brief experience in the military, it was clear that his approach would be different to that of the former Pinnacle Officer.

  Pinnacle Officer Wilcox had been adamant about the removal of all traces of the instruments of war, the establishment of peace and the removal of the necessity for powerful weapons, but this was the point on which Cerberus differed. Where there were times of peace, there would be times of war, that was his understanding. Despite Pinnacle Officer Wilcox’s optimism, Cerberus knew that peace would not last forever in the Forkstream Territories. Perhaps he could bring another perspective to the issues with the Ward Beacon.

  The Ward Beacon could be modified perhaps, as Officer Cerberus understood the principles involved. Perhaps a modification to reduce power usage and to activate for longer periods. Could the Ward Beacon be used in another way? Perhaps to exert more control over the Internees. Now that would be an achievement, he mused.

  The beauty pill was another concern. Control the temperament of the Internees and the need for security was lessened, just as Pinnacle Officer Wilcox had engineered the system. There was no need for weapons, for restraints. The pill contained a blend of hormones, the balance carefully controlled to keep the population docile and their emotions dulled. If only there was a way, somewhere in the myriad of notes before him, that he could find the hormone that further increased docility, malleability, something to guarantee the dutiful compliance of the Internee population.

  And on the other hand, and this, this was something he was sure the Pinnacle Officer had not considered. Could there be some way to increase the impulses of the fighting instinct inherent in the Internees in Epsilon? If so, why had this not been achieved? What the Pinnacle Officer did not understand, brilliant though he had been, was the clarity of the facts that now lay before him.

  Officer Cerberus sat back in his chair, exhilarated by the thought forming in his mind. Why attempt to recruit an army when the very resources lay already under your control?

  There would be a frequency, he knew this to be true. Pinnacle Officer Wilcox’s notes lay before him, painstakingly recorded, every frequency tested on Internee implant markers. The emotional response, the physiological effects, all charted in great detail. This knowledge, this gift, Cerberus corrected, would be the key to the continuation of FERTS, he just needed to pinpoint, to isolate the correct frequency for the desired effect.

  Officer Cerberus exhaled, running his fingers through his hair. He believed he had found it, and now was the time to test out his theory. This was his chance. He would not continue the work of Pinnacle Officer Wilcox. This would be an insult to the Pinnacle Officer, his veneration, and his legacy. Instead, he would reshape it, actualize the vision of the great Pinnacle Officer himself. He would not merely maintain the order that
Pinnacle Officer Wilcox had created. This time, it was his chance to bring forth the vision, seemingly out of reach, but so close he could almost touch it. He would refine the processes, reshape the order, and ultimately, improve on it.

  – 21 –

  The days passed slowly for 201, the blackened, vine-covered ruins of former dwellings dotting the landscape. She had asked Reno if she could ride in the front of the cart again but he had refused, a shake of his head the only response. He had not spoken to her since the fight with 299. The night when she had said too much.

  How could I have let myself speak like that? What is the matter with me?

  The day had begun with the FERTS requital, the Epsilon Internees answering dutifully in unison. 201 had kept her mouth shut, ignoring the Epsilon Fighters and remaining silent during the requital. She rested against the wooden bars, gripping them with both hands.

  We’re getting close. Too close.

  201 looked up, watching the landscape change as the cart continued on its path. A feeling welled up within her, the feeling she had experienced when she had found the symbol, the feeling she remembered when she saw the camp in her mind for the first time. It was no longer a feeling of excitement alone. This time it was mixed with uncertainty, a clench in the base of her stomach. This time she was not in her quarters at FERTS, this time what she saw was real, unfolding before her eyes, and she could do nothing but watch as the cart took them closer, ever closer.

  It was never meant to be like this. We are too close. It’s too late. The fighting creature has brought us to them.

  Reno had been quiet, his silence grating on Officer Tor’s nerves.

  “It’s taking longer than we expected, Sir. Do you think we are on the right path?” asked Officer Tor. His forehead creased as he watched the fighting creature scurry from side to side, yanking at the lead.

  Reno did not answer. He flicked the reins, guiding the horses through the overgrown terrain. The cart wound through seemingly endless fields, past wild plants and flowers blooming and stretching out from the banks of the Elan river. The fighting creature had tired on occasion, becoming disoriented with the enticing new sights and scents. They had rested until the creature had regained its strength, taking off towards a wooded grove with renewed vigor. The cart bumped its way through a long clearing, flanked on either side by the shade of staggered rows of trees. Reno watched as the creature sniffed along the path, the leash flapping against its flank. The trees filed past in the corner of his eye, glimpses of the Elan river peeking through the thick, enveloping branches. Before long, the trees opened out into sharp ridges of rock, the cart teetering along rocky ledges, winding down towards the plains at the base of the cliff.