along."
The girl moved to follow her up the ramp into the ship and then nearly bumped into her as the woman remained standing in place. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
The girl paused, wondering. Then she remembered. "Yes, mistress. Of course."
Tilting her head, she pulled her blond hair back to reveal the small metallic slot no more than two millimeters wide just behind her ear. It was the access port to her Primary Control Module, and it was the only evidence that she was anything but a normal human girl.
The woman pulled a small cube-shaped object from her belt and held it before her.
The girl stared at it and felt her stomach churn. It was a data-uplink module, the same one her mistress used on her after all such missions. Data from the previous mission would be downloaded, and her matrix wiped clean—all to make way for the new mission profiles.
The woman thumbed a switch in the middle of the box. Instantly, a razor-thin spike snapped out with an audible snick. It gleamed brilliant silver, thin and delicate. It was hard to believe something so small and fragile could strike such terror into her.
The girl knew it was her duty to submit. She knew what her mistress demanded of her, yet she stepped back.
"Really, dear. Do we have to go through this every time?"
The girl hesitated. "Please, mistress. It…it hurts."
"Your treatments are necessary, dear. You know how you get."
The woman thrust the spike toward her again. But this time, the girl slapped her hand away. The woman gave a startled gasp and clasped her hand in pain. The girl raised her hand, preparing to strike her again. Rage filled her eyes. No more treatments!
"Sigrid! Stop!"
The use of her name caused the girl's head to snap up. Her mistress rarely called her by her name. In that moment she realized in horror what she'd done. She'd actually hit her mistress, and that was something she'd never done. More than hit her, she'd wanted to kill her—anything to stop the pain.
"Sigrid, you have never struck me before."
"I'm sorry, mistress! Please, I didn't mean to."
"Promise me you won't do it again."
"I promise. Of course I promise."
The girl sank to her knees and threw her arms around the woman's legs. "Please, mistress, you must forgive me."
The woman stared down at her. She looked nearly as shocked by the girl hugging her legs as she had been when struck. Slowly, cautiously, she put her hand on the girl's head and stroked her hair. "Hush now. There'll be no more of that. I know you didn't mean to."
"I didn't. I wouldn't."
"Of course you wouldn't. We have much work to do, you and I. Cor Caroli was not the first colony to fall. We have many more deaths to avenge."
"I know, mistress."
"And these treatments," the woman said, holding up the data module, "they are a part of it. They are necessary. You know that, Sigrid. Without your treatments you can't do the things you do. You will die, Sigrid."
"I know, mistress."
"Good. Then no more pouting. I'm sorry this hurts you, Sigrid. If there were any other way…"
"It's all right, mistress. I'm ready."
The girl tilted her head to the side, exposing the metallic slot. The woman brought the module up. The silver spike flashed briefly in the moonlight as the woman thrust it in.
The uplink was instantaneous. The surge of data was unstoppable. The girl's eyes rolled back. Her body heaved and she spasmed once before falling limp into the woman's arms. It was the quiet sleep of submission.
Emily Gillings-Jones cradled Sigrid in her arms, rocking her gently.
"There now. All better. Sleep. Sleep, my dear girl."
The girl couldn't hear her, of course. The treatments left her completely catatonic. But even if she could hear, it wouldn't matter. Once the new mission profile was uploaded, the girl would remember nothing. She never did. Not Cor Caroli. Not Procyon. Not the endless strings of assassinations.
Not even what she'd done to her own friends.
The treatments ensured complete submission. For a
The girl moved to follow her up the ramp into the ship and then nearly bumped into her as the woman remained standing in place. "Aren't you forgetting something?"
The girl paused, wondering. Then she remembered. "Yes, mistress. Of course."
Tilting her head, she pulled her blond hair back to reveal the small metallic slot no more than two millimeters wide just behind her ear. It was the access port to her Primary Control Module, and it was the only evidence that she was anything but a normal human girl.
The woman pulled a small cube-shaped object from her belt and held it before her.
The girl stared at it and felt her stomach churn. It was a data-uplink module, the same one her mistress used on her after all such missions. Data from the previous mission would be downloaded, and her matrix wiped clean—all to make way for the new mission profiles.
The woman thumbed a switch in the middle of the box. Instantly, a razor-thin spike snapped out with an audible snick. It gleamed brilliant silver, thin and delicate. It was hard to believe something so small and fragile could strike such terror into her.
The girl knew it was her duty to submit. She knew what her mistress demanded of her, yet she stepped back.
"Really, dear. Do we have to go through this every time?"
The girl hesitated. "Please, mistress. It…it hurts."
"Your treatments are necessary, dear. You know how you get."
The woman thrust the spike toward her again. But this time, the girl slapped her hand away. The woman gave a startled gasp and clasped her hand in pain. The girl raised her hand, preparing to strike her again. Rage filled her eyes. No more treatments!
"Sigrid! Stop!"
The use of her name caused the girl's head to snap up. Her mistress rarely called her by her name. In that moment she realized in horror what she'd done. She'd actually hit her mistress, and that was something she'd never done. More than hit her, she'd wanted to kill her—anything to stop the pain.
"Sigrid, you have never struck me before."
"I'm sorry, mistress! Please, I didn't mean to."
"Promise me you won't do it again."
"I promise. Of course I promise."
The girl sank to her knees and threw her arms around the woman's legs. "Please, mistress, you must forgive me."
The woman stared down at her. She looked nearly as shocked by the girl hugging her legs as she had been when struck. Slowly, cautiously, she put her hand on the girl's head and stroked her hair. "Hush now. There'll be no more of that. I know you didn't mean to."
"I didn't. I wouldn't."
"Of course you wouldn't. We have much work to do, you and I. Cor Caroli was not the first colony to fall. We have many more deaths to avenge."
"I know, mistress."
"And these treatments," the woman said, holding up the data module, "they are a part of it. They are necessary. You know that, Sigrid. Without your treatments you can't do the things you do. You will die, Sigrid."
"I know, mistress."
"Good. Then no more pouting. I'm sorry this hurts you, Sigrid. If there were any other way…"
"It's all right, mistress. I'm ready."
The girl tilted her head to the side, exposing the metallic slot. The woman brought the module up. The silver spike flashed briefly in the moonlight as the woman thrust it in.
The uplink was instantaneous. The surge of data was unstoppable. The girl's eyes rolled back. Her body heaved and she spasmed once before falling limp into the woman's arms. It was the quiet sleep of submission.
Emily Gillings-Jones cradled Sigrid in her arms, rocking her gently.
"There now. All better. Sleep. Sleep, my dear girl."
The girl couldn't hear her, of course. The treatments left her completely catatonic. But even if she could hear, it wouldn't matter. Once the new mission profile was uploaded, the girl would remember nothing. She never did. Not Cor Caroli. Not Procyon. Not the endless strings of assassinations.
Not even what she'd done to her own friends.
The treatments ensured complete submission. For a
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