Chapter 24
The Vessel Takes Shape
Ladrieu, Arielle, Bonaventure
Mariana walked down the line, looking for the right candidates for the day's session. At first, she had mostly been doing random sampling, but as she gained experience and better learned how to gauge the mental state of the subjects, she became more deliberate with her choices.
There were precious few soldiers in the regiment with the powers of observation and perception she needed to evaluate the Ancients while she was away. The more she knew about their daily lives, the more effectively she could conduct her sessions. If only her arts were more advanced, she would not have to rely on such crude implements.
While she was mulling the problem, she noticed something. A sunken-eyed man with a couple days' growth of whiskers was passing furtive glances at a woman in the next file.
"You," she said to the man. She then looked to the woman. "And you."
The two were then dragged to the showers, stripped and made to stand opposite each other. They prudishly avoided eye contact with each other but could not seem to wholly resist the temptation for the occasional glance. Neither was much to look at, honestly. On a good day they would be average-looking middle-aged peasants, but either due to insufficiency in their rations or some nervous effect of their captivity, they were excessively thin with limbs like sticks and their ribs poking out their sides. Perhaps if they could prove useful, they might be permitted better treatment.
Once the interpreter sets were affixed, Mariana began dictating to Iliana.
"Zero-Zero-One-Zero-Nine-Seven, third session, and Zero-Zero-One-One-Zero-Two, second session. First joint session. Both subjects show signs of malnutrition. Care to explain, Lieutenant Blanchard?"
"Due to sanitary conditions, we believe intestinal parasites may have spread among the subject population," the Lieutenant said. "We have not yet found a replacement for Doctor Rocquefort after his resignation, so we cannot say for certain."
"Tell the Colonel to requisition civilian doctors," Mariana said. "We will furnish the necessary paperwork later."
"We will furnish it later," Iliana echoed.
"As you say, my lady," Lieutenant Blanchard said. "There is also the matter of certain more, shall we say, assertive subjects claiming more than their share. As per your instructions, the guards have not intervened."
"We want to give our guests the opportunity to discover who they are," Mariana said. "We cannot expect them all to be saints. And by engaging in the behavior that comes naturally to them, we hope it can awaken who they were."
"Who they were, who they are," Iliana said.
"I have said before that hardship builds character," Mariana said, "but the Ancients are a limited resource. Some losses are inevitable, but we mustn't be wasteful."
"Mustn't be wasteful."
"We may need to consider expanding our facilities."
"We need to consider it."
"I could speak to the Colonel about scouting out suitable locations, my lady," Lieutenant Blanchard suggested.
"Yes..." Mariana replied, distracted by her own thoughts. "Yes, you do that, Lieutenant. It needs to be within the city limits, preferably close to the barracks. If we spread them out too much, they will be difficult to manage."
"Difficult to manage."
"As you wish, my lady," the Lieutenant said.
"Back to our session," Mariana said. "Mr. Geoffries, the iron and the torch."
"Right away, young mistress," Mr. Geoffries replied, opening his doctor's bag and producing the butane torch and the branding iron.
Mr. Geoffries began to heat up the iron. It was important for the subjects to observe the preparations. Fear and pain were both tools and often fear was the more effective one. However, so far, fear alone could not produce results, but neither could pain. That left another tool in the box: time. Repeat the cycle of fear and pain long enough and you could reshape a mind into just about any form you liked.
"Let us start easy, Mr. Geoffries," Mariana said. "The fingertips."
"As you wish, young mistress," Mr. Geoffries said. "Drummer Szlaty, your assistance, please."
Szlaty took hold of the man's wrist and stretched out his arm. Unsurprisingly, since the man heard they were going to be burning his fingertips, he closed his hand into a fist. Szlaty tried shaking the man's arm to get him to open up his hand.
"Open up, damn you," Szlaty growled.
The shower stall was too narrow for another person to hold the man while Szlaty forced his hand open. Mr. Geoffries was not fazed by this, though.
"We have an uncooperative subject, young mistress," Mr. Geoffries said. "Will you permit me to burn the knuckles instead?"
"Very well," Mariana said. "I was going to allow him to retain the flexion in his fingers, but I suppose he leaves us no choice."
"I will start from the pinky finger and give him the chance to change his mind," Mr. Geoffries said.
"You are ever so considerate, Mr. Geoffries," Mariana replied with a slight grin.
"Ever so considerate," Iliana repeated.
Mr. Geoffries lined up the iron while Szlaty tried to keep the man from squirming.
"Hold still, if you please," Mr. Geoffries said. "I do not wish to miss my target."
He then pressed the iron to the man's knuckle. The sizzle of the hide burning was drowned out by the man's screaming. Mr. Geoffries held the iron in place for a few seconds before finally pulling it back, taking some burnt skin with it.
As the man's cries settled down, Mariana asked him, "Well, do you remember anything?"
The man did not reply with anything coherent, so Mariana said, "Mr. Geoffries, again."
"As you wish, young mistress."
He promptly burned the next knuckle, as the man stubbornly kept his fist clenched. Or perhaps it was not stubbornness but simply a natural response to the pain. It did not matter much either way.
Besides the man screaming from the pain, the woman cried out, "Stop it! Leave him alone! Please! Why are you doing this!?"
Mariana turned to the woman and said, "If it is not him, it will be you. Would you prefer that?"
The woman averted her eyes. She did not quite have the courage to sacrifice herself, but she was not such a coward that she would openly sacrifice him either. The man, however, was able to muster up a measure of courage for appearance's sake if nothing else.
"Your... your business is with me..."
"Do you remember anything?" Mariana asked.
"Remember what?" the man asked in turn. "I don't remember anything before I woke up in that barn. It's like I told you from the start."
"Then my business is not with you," Mariana said. "Mr. Geoffries, there will be more of a savor if you burn something with a little fat to it. The sight of those sagging breasts offends me anyway."
"As you wish, young mistress," Mr. Geoffries said, taking his torch to reheat the iron. "Mr. Ioanides, please hold her firmly."
"No!" the man shouted. "You're not done with me!"
"Indeed not," Mr. Geoffries replied. "We will continue our conversation shortly, but for now, the young mistress wishes for me to speak with your companion."
"No!" the man shouted again, vainly struggling against the much stronger Drummer Szlaty.
"Hold still, dammit!" Szlaty snapped, twisting the man's arm to force him into submission.
"Be careful with the joint, Mr. Szlaty," Mr. Geoffries said. "The young mistress said nothing of dislocating his shoulder."
"You try holdin' him then, you old scarecrow!"
"Szlaty!" Lieutenant Blanchard barked.
"Now, now," Mariana said. "Let's all behave. We are trying to run an experiment here. Mr. Geoffries?"
"Right away, young mistress."
If the woman wanted to struggle, there was little she could do in Trooper Ioanides' iron grip. Her feet kicked about on the tile as if she was trying to back away, but held fast as she was, she did not manage to budge even a single centimeter. All it accomplished was getting Ioanides to tighten his hold further.
Mr. Geoffries held the iron over her skin and said, "Before we begin, as a courtesy to a lady, allow me to ask you. Do you remember anything?"
At this point, the woman seemed pretty well resigned to her fate and replied with a weak, "No... no..."
"Very well then," Mr. Geoffries said. "Take care not to bite your tongue. Here we go."
Mr. Geoffries was not such a barbarian that he would simply plunge the iron into the woman's flesh. He was slow and careful, gently touching the iron to her skin and gradually increasing the pressure. Surprisingly, the woman did not scream out loud but clenched her teeth and tightened the muscles in her throat to suppress her cry. She wept freely, though, and the sight had the desired effect, as the man was far more vocal, screaming, cursing and fighting against Szlaty's hold on him. It was a pitiful sight, but Mariana did not have any pity to move her.
The man's screams were cut short when he appeared to go into a seizure. Mr. Geoffries responded quickly, tossing the iron aside and telling Szlaty, "Lie him down, Mr. Szlaty, and give him some room."
Szlaty did as he was told, laying the man down as he continued to convulse. Unlike some fits of apoplexy where the limbs would flail wildly, the man's body was mostly stiff and straining against itself as if it was going to tear itself in two.
After a minute or so, the convulsions died down and the tension in the man's body relaxed. Mr. Geoffries checked the man's pulse and while he was doing so, the man lifted up his head and looked around him.
"Where... where am I?" he asked. "What's going on?"
Past Mr. Geoffries, he saw the woman and his eyes widened.
"Ell... What, what are you doing to her? What do you want? Is it money? I'll pay. I'll get the money somehow. I, I can get you about fifty thousand creds up front if I max out my card. I'll get you the rest, I swear. In the Emperor's name, I swear it. I won't tell anyone about this. I, we... we won't go to the cops. Just let us go and we'll get you what you want."
The man was suddenly a lot more talkative, almost like an entirely different person. A lot of the things he was saying did not make much sense. Could it be?
Mariana stepped forward and told the man, "What I want is information."
"Information? I work in an auto parts store. What kind of information do you think I have?"
"How about your name for starters?"
"You took us and you don't even know who we are?"
"Until a few moments ago, you did not know who you are," Mariana replied. "You still may not, hence my question."
"Yunus..." the man said. "Yunus Metta." He nodded to the woman. "My wife Ellia. Look, we're just ordinary Class Threes. We don't have any special information. Just let us go, please."
"On the contrary," Mariana said with a slight grin crossing her lips, "it looks like you have a wealth of information and I look forward to squeezing you for every drop of it. Now, tell me what year you think it is."