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Mirrorsmoke Company
- Chapter 14 -[]
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Massif Vault[]
New Oslo, Draconis Combine
October, 3018
[09:48] LOCAL TIME
Both Bjorna and I watched as Logan spoke through a subaltern. He was using it to remotely interrogate our recent addition in the hastily ad hoc holding cell.
We had been here for close to an hour now, all three of us in another room, listening intently and dissecting the words that came out of the prisoner's mouth.
"It's the kids," the woman explained. Without the Japanese, she spoke with a slight accent, maybe from a planet closer to the Lyran borders, and that only obviously meant she had been an offworlder. How common they were chosen as a minder, that would be a question I'd like answered. "That's the project. Recycling young Unproductives or children that people don't know exist. Like a sieve, we take them and evaluate them; either turn them into soldiers or assets that the rest of the Combine can use."
"An abundant amount of kids, given the state of the Inner Sphere," Logan fished, voice garbled and pitched down to help his intimidation play. "All deniable… and all disposable too."
The subaltern had its arms crossed, huge and imposing, near seven feet of metal and robotics that promised extreme pain and bodily harm.
The prisoner didn't so much as react. She'd been given brief medical attention; a gauze to cover the cut on her cheek and some painkillers to mellow out her shaking. From the viewpoint of the recording subaltern, she was on her bed, chocolate-brown hair tied in a bun with her back straight and hands placed on her knees like she was sitting for a job interview.
A far cry from her previous outburst.
"Yes," she answered. Her name was Sara Wiik and the Chu-i had been surprisingly forthrighting so far, speaking at length about what her duties were or how their group operated. Whether it was from fear, or if it was remorse, we didn't know. We didn't care. "I don't know if the whole project exists in other Combine planets, but it's extensive in this planet. I know at least one instance where one of the… graduates was apparently used as a false flag against dissidents here in New Oslo space. One man planted an explosive in the middle of a parade in Lillehammer."
Logan's eyebrows rose. "That was last year. Newscasts say it was a failed assassination attempt at an official." There was a pause. "You needed an excuse to flush out informants embedded in the local politics. Six people, if I recall."
"Yes."
"That explosion also killed twelve other innocents unrelated to the insurgents themselves, to say nothing of the goodwill received from the terrorism you've just committed."
At that, our prisoner kept her mouth shut.
"How long has this project been going on?" Logan asked more.
"A long time. I've only been on the project for two years, but I can at least infer there has been some minor success with a limited number of… graduates."
"And these graduates, do they work for a clandestine arm of the Combine? Are they a part of the ISF now?"
"I don't know. I am relegated to the back side of the operation. I barely interact with the trainees these days."
"How so?"
"My tasks aren't just to train them," she explained slowly. "We keep and watch them like… lab rats. See how they deal with long term isolation or pressure, and if maybe we can apply that to more than just combat. Children's minds are so easily adaptable, and they take to it fast. It was my job–along with a few others–to find out if what we have learned could be replicated on a more stable, mass-producible scale."
"Is that why there's a lot of these facilities hidden?"
The prisoner continued, nodding. "The nature of our work is obviously… "
I couldn't hear her over the sound of my own thoughts. Experiments. We were fucking experiments. Every word she spoke was like a scalpel digging into fingertips, and as if the only way for the pain to stop was by going inside that room, and choking the life out of her with my own two hands.
I steeled myself. Let myself breathe. We needed more intel.
Eventually, I managed to get past my rage, tuning back into the conversation again.
"...An operation like this is long-term and requires a lot of resources. Who funds all this?" Logan asked.
"I don't know."
More questions were asked, the back and forth coming quickly with Logan receiving the same answers every time. She didn't know. He not once forced the issue, or pressed further for any details, only taking her at her word and then moving on to the next question. It was as if he didn't care enough about questioning her, and had already made up his mind in killing her for what she had revealed, truth or not. I had half a mind to take over for him in both frustration and consideration.
All Bjorna and I could do was stand by and watch.
"What about the kids? How many do you have under this program?" Logan eventually asked the question I'd been excruciatingly waiting for.
"I don't know. They rotate us every few months or so; keeps us from getting attached to the kids we look over. I've heard from the others that each facility has its own method of teaching under the project, but ultimately all of the kids will end up combat ready."
"Then surely you must know a lot of facilities."
"Yes," Sara answered resolutely. "I know of three more places where they train more kids."
I almost jumped out of my seat from that particular bombshell she just dropped on us, and I wasn't alone. Bjorna and I looked at each other, shock plastered on all our faces.
Only Logan was unfazed. "Let me guess, you don't know where they are."
"No," she confirmed. "Once our time is up, we are placed somewhere undisclosed for a few weeks to rest, before being shipped to do my job all over again in a different location."
I suddenly heard the sound of something smash beside me, only to find Bjorna's fist bending the armrest of her wheelchair. She had her teeth bared, practically shaking from the anger.
Logan looked at her, commiserating briefly before he continued. He made the subaltern move closer, practically looming over the prisoner as she sat.
"You seem to know frustratingly little, Chu-i Wiik," he began, voice low and grim as he could muster into the microphone. His patience was finally up. "What exactly is it you can give us that would ensure your continued survival? From where I'm standing, you just don't seem to be all that valuable to keep alive."
"Because I also have names," she declared. There wasn't even a hint of panic as she said that, her stare failing to find any eyes underneath the subaltern's veil. "Names in high places. Names that you can track and eliminate."
Sara quickly continued. "And not just that, I have intel on other facilities, ones that don't involve children. They handle the… alumni."
"Then by all means."
"I want assurances."
Logan laughed. "You are not in any capacity to bargain for anything, Chu-i, but I'll bite. What do you want?"
"Freedom and safety. I'm a dead woman–KIA as far as they know. I give you all I know, and a ship off Drac space along with a new identity, then we have a deal. If you're even amenable to work with a turncoat, I can brief you on the children you have in your custody."
"What?" I heard Bjorna whisper. I was equally as confused.
"...Safety, I can give you easily," Logan mused. "Getting the hell out of the Combine's hooks? Not so much. I'm afraid you're stuck planetside. Fortunately, we also will not allow you to be anywhere near those kids anymore."
Finally, she reacted–an errant twitch on her eyebrows, curling into confusion that stayed there as she spoke.
"What do you mean? You don't have ships?" she asked. "You're Lyran Special Forces, aren't you? LIC?"
"Can't recall ever claiming we were Lyrans at all, ma'am," Logan said, amused. "Hell, if we were Loki, we wouldn't even be having this amenable of a conversation. We'd have just extracted those names out of you, tooth by bloody tooth."
"...Impossible," she said, confusion now turning to fear and panic. "But in the raid–one of the soldiers that tried to execute me, she was one of our graduates, wasn't she?! She had to be! That's your mission here, co-opting those children into fighting for the Lyrans, isn't it?!"
"Lady, you have no idea how wrong you are."
"I-impossible!" she repeated, stuttering as she flailed her arms. "That attack! The tech, the dropships! Who are you people?"
"Nobody important," he answered gruffly. "Suffice it to say, those children are no longer in the hands of the Combine. And you are shit out of luck."
Then we saw her lips tremble. The mask on her face had finally shattered and there were tears welling up around the corners of her eyes. I didn't understand why. Logan had at least the decency to allow her to gather her bearings.
"They vetted me themselves," Sara began to plead. "All of us were! You kill me and you lose your lead. You can't kill me."
"Quite the contrary, ma'am," he countered. "I want to."
Logan continued, voice clinically cold. "You don't seem to understand that there's not a damn thing protecting you here. The only reason you are alive right now, minder, is because you're at best a novelty–something to look at like an exhibit while we extract what we need from you. You want to stay living? Don't bother trying to negotiate. Give us the names."
The Chu-i said nothing out of fear, and the freezing aura that Logan gave off practically misted the screen we were looking at. There was half a minute of silence between all of us before any more words were said.
Logan then drew a deep breath, forcibly calming himself.
"Let me throw you a bone, then. You are as of this moment, a prisoner of war," he declared, reciting words I'd never thought I'd hear from him. "You will not be tortured, nor will you be punished for the crimes you have committed prior to your imprisonment. You will be treated humanely and safely.
"Under no circumstances are you allowed to self-terminate, and will be watched at all times for any hostile intent–for yourself and for others. With respect to your person and dignity, you are allowed to roam outside your holding cell at limited times and will be provided with three full meals every day for the duration of your stay–far, far more than you deserve, minder."
"One name," she probed. "I will give you one name a week, to make sure you're not lying."
And to make sure she lived for as long as possible.
Logan huffed. "...Granted, if that eases your mind. You will also provide us with more details should the need for more intel arise."
"Of course."
"Now give me a goddamn name!" Logan demanded.
At first, I thought she wanted to press her luck even further, her face returning to a more stoic demeanor, despite the redness in her eyes.
"Hajime Taki," Sara said, finding the name easily off the top of her head.
I laughed. I suppose she still had one more explosive revelation to drop on us.
Because that was the name of our Planetary Governor.