02. Empires of Flux and Anchor (31 page)

The state, which would be the most powerful men around with a will to rule, owned everything. The ranking of men in society was quasi-military, with a series of "grades" going from "00" for basic unskilled labor to "50" which was, of course, the head of state. Life would be grim for the lower grades, even the men, who were expected to think as little as possible and follow orders to the letter. All necessities, including food, were rationed and the amount of your ration depended on rank, from food to living quarters. Polygamy was allowed, again based on rank, and unattached women were basically cared for by the state and regularly put on "parade," as it was called, where men could come, look them over, and "claim" them. Women who were unclaimed for a long period or who failed to "socially adjust to nature," were taken to Flux and "readjusted" there for a "useful social role." She had seen the former temple priestesses and guessed what that phrase meant.

They fed her a good, hot meal about an hour later in the cell, and she wolfed it down appreciatively. It was the best meal she'd had in quite some time. Then she settled back on the bed and tried not to think about the future. She could only wonder where Spirit was, who'd never undergone anything like this before, and whether Cass and Matson were punching through the wall or dead in some lonely grove of trees.

After breakfast in the morning, they brought in a woman dressed in a bright green version of what Suzl had been given, bare from the waist up, but wearing lots of makeup and jewelry. "I am Jerane," she said, "and I have been asked to prepare you for the interrogation." Suzl noted that Jerane had little tags on her earrings.

The preparation consisted partly of doing Suzl's hair, teaching her makeup, and an interminable session walking up and down the hall in those shoes. Suzl found the shoes an amazing fit, considering how long she'd gone barefoot, and also found the art of walking on heels came back rather fast. She had always used boots with heels on the trail to increase her height. What she didn't like were the critiques, and she was ready to blow up if she heard "Wiggle, don't waddle" one more time.

Still, when she looked at herself in the mirror, she was amazed at the difference. She really
was
kind of cute and sexy, she decided.

Jerane was something of a mine of information as well. The killing had all but stopped, except for the major offenses you'd expect. Rape, however, was no longer a crime if the woman was unaccompanied by a man. The bodies were being taken down and buried; the economy was starting to improve again, and the rules were no longer being changed every day. The invaders were settling in, marrying local women, and actually helping in the clean-up and spruce-up work that had to be done. People knew who was what now, and they were memorizing posted chains of command.

On the dark side, all education for women had ceased. Block captains, who were local residents and not invaders—she used the term "liberators"— checked daily to see that each dwelling and work place, inside and out, was cared for. They were quite strict, and the wives of workers at various places were brought in as a team to clean and polish everything there as well. For those women who just couldn't be "re-educated" properly, there was, in addition to the lash, a new device worn like a necklace. Patrolmen all had little boxes that could activate them. If you were close to them, say no more than two meters, they would deliver an agonizingly painful shock that would do no real damage. It had done wonders, she said.

Yes, virtually everyone she knew now accepted the system. It was dangerous to voice any negative comments, since anyone could turn you in for extra ration coupons, but negative comments were fewer and fewer these days. Jerane had been an inventory clerk on the farm, but was now a housewife and part-time cleaner for the administration building, and she was trying desperately to get pregnant. Suzl asked her whether she missed her job and career and was told, "It is no longer relevant to my life or future. I no longer have any real pressure, and I have the time and the duty to have children. For a while I resented it, but accepting it and living it is just so much
easier
."

It was always easier not to think but to obey, Suzl thought glumly. At first she'd been repulsed by the woman's meek acceptance, but then she'd thought of her own life. Kicked as a slave into Flux by the Paring Rite, she hadn't even tried to resist. She'd lucked into freedom on Cass's coattails, but it was an illusory freedom. As a dugger with no Flux power, she'd done nothing but take orders and compromise all those years. Ravi seemed the ultimate compromise, considering what he wanted from her for protecting her.

Of course, she'd kidded herself that it was nothing personal; there were two kinds of people in Flux, those with the power and those without, and she'd been one of the "withouts" through no choice of her own. Now she had Flux power, but no real knowledge of how to use it, and here she was in Anchor, a woman in a society that decreed that women were the ones "without." She seemed destined to always be in the right place on the wrong side.

Sooner or later there
had
to be a way out, a way to escape, but, until then, she decided that it was Ravi time once more and she had to be a good little girl.

The interrogator, who identified himself as Captain Weiz, was a young, handsome man with striking blond hair and beard. She walked into the interrogation room wiggling, not waddling, and he smiled, got up, and offered her a chair.

"We need to know the answers to some questions," he told her. "Are you willing to cooperate?"

"As much as I can, sir," she responded.

He nodded, liking having his ideology reinforced. "Now, you came in from Flux. We know that. Did you exit through the temple?"

She nodded. There was no use denying it now. "Yes, sir. There was a one-time condition that was induced to let us pass."

"How many people emerged?"

She considered that but knew that hesitation was loss. "Three. Myself, Spirit, and Cass." None of them had ever seen Matson, and there was a slight chance they didn't know about him. It was a chance worth taking.

Weiz nodded. "This 'Cass' is also known as Sister Kasdi?"

She nodded again. "Yes, sir. But we grew up together and I never could think of her any other way except as Cass."

"I see. And what was your objective?"

"Several, sir. First, if possible, we were to destroy whatever or whoever was maintaining the shield in any one spot and create an opening. Second, we were to get out and report on conditions here. Finally, if the opportunity arose, we were to find and kill Coydt van Haaz."

Weiz seemed pleased with the answers. "You are the same Suzl who was once a somewhat male dugger in Flux?"

She nodded. "Yes, sir. It was a curse that finally got lifted."

 "You prefer being female, then?"

Loaded question in this rulebook! "Yes, sir, I do. That's why, when it was finally learned how to dissolve the curse, I opted for my current form."

"And what would you wish for your future life?"

Another loaded one! The fellow was good at his job. "Sir, I would be lying if I didn't say I would rather return to Flux."

"And if that was impossible?"

"Then I would accept life here, sir. I'm a survivor. I had no power in Flux, so I went by others' rules. This is no different. I would only like to be near enough to Spirit to see her regularly. We are very close."

"Spirit was claimed by her legal father this morning, as is his right. He has been promoted to Chief Riding Mechanic in Trobovar, near the east gate, and they left immediately. Would it shock you to know that her parents are the ones who told us about you?"

"I kind of figured that out, sir."

"They don't
want
a hole punched in the shield," he told her. "Not even our critics in Anchor wish that. It would be the end of us all, and everyone knows it and believes it because it is true. I say this because I want you to know that there's no help for you here now and no help in the future. If you adapt to this life, there are rewards. Enough of Flux is ours so that the
best
citizens, male or female, need never grow old or lose their looks. If you live by the rules, punishment won't exist and only rewards will flow. You adjusted to Flux; you must adjust here."

She nodded, herself finding the logic easy and seductive. She wondered, though, what they would do with the excess population—or was that the Fluxlords' payment? They went through lives like water and had lost their endless supply with the ending of the Paring Rite. Their power had been weakening from slow attrition. It made sense.

For the next few days she underwent "re-education" and it was no fun at all. Again, the methods were simple but seductive. They would have you do things, memorize things, then surprise you with all sorts of unexpected situations. If you hesitated, gave the wrong answer, or didn't do it exactly right, you got a shock from the little collar. In an amazingly short time, you found it much easier to go along with it and found your mind concentrating only on what you were expected to do or say in any given circumstance. She knew that if it went on for too long, even a few weeks, she would be doing it so automatically that it would be impossible to resist. She'd seen the technique in Flux, but never thought it could be applied to Anchor.

The sessions were long and punctuated by uneven breaks. Food and sleep periods did not come with any regularity, and it was quickly easy to lose all track of time. She knew they were giving her hormones or something in her food; she felt constantly turned on, and her breasts gave milk, and she was ready for anything, man or woman. Hopes for rescue faded with time, and thinking of Spirit and the baby only made it worse.

She was awakened and told to "prepare herself," and so she washed, got herself done up right, and dressed, then reported to the main office. She was no longer even surprised at herself for ogling men and checking out their asses. She'd always swung both ways, depending on the person, and would always have hopes of eventually reuniting with Spirit, but she was always the practical survivor, too, always adaptable to whatever conditions came along.

She was surprised to see Captain Weiz waiting.

She approached him and stood silently, waiting for him to speak.

"You've made excellent progress, Suzlette," he told her. They insisted on full names, and she'd decided it made sense to use it for this new personality to keep confusion down, although she'd never used it before.

"Thank you, sir," she responded.

"A question I forgot before. Just which point in the shield were you to attack?"

"The one nearest Lamoine, sir, if separated," she heard herself replying without thinking. It took that to realize how far they'd taken her.

He reached into his pocket and took out two small charms and reached up and clipped them so they hung from their circular earrings. "Let us go back to your room," he said, and they walked back, she keeping deferentially slightly behind him.

When they got there, he closed the door and smiled. "I have just claimed you, Suzlette. What do you think of that?"

She was shocked. "I'm honored, sir."

He put her through all her paces, including the sexual. She was very, very horny and so was very, very good. It helped that he was attractive, but it was remarkably easy. You just turned off your mind. . . .

Nor, in fact, was he that bad either.

They relaxed after, and she felt very good, even though a back corner of her mind said that she should not. Clearly, linking spells did not work in Anchor.

"I was attracted to you from the start," he told her. "I was in Flux, too, most of my life. Most of the women here are terribly inexperienced. We can go far together, you know. You can supplement and help me with my job."

She began to grow suspicious. This was for a purpose.

"Get dressed and come with me now. We're going to take a long ride up to Lamoine."

He had an open surrey on order and drove it himself. It was a bright, pleasant day, and quite warm, and it felt good to be outdoors once more. He didn't take a direct route but a number of back roads, stopping often in small towns and at farms. He seemed genuinely affectionate, and she played the servile game, all the time wondering what this was about. Clearly, he was showing her off conspicuously, but that might be to show her conversion. Everybody would know who she was.

They reached the small farming village of Lamoine in about four leisurely hours. The wall, and Flux, was only a kilometer away, but trees had been cleverly planted to block the view of it from the town. He made all the courtesy calls in town, and she was beginning to get used to being called Suzlette Weiz and even identified herself once as Madame Hamir Weiz. She was taken to a small kitchen and told to prepare a good picnic dinner for two. This surprised her even more, but she did as instructed.

She had found the whole experience and the day rather educational. She found herself critiquing other women's hair and makeup, and found herself feeling quite comfortable looking and acting as she was—which was how all the other women in town were acting. It was a vaguely disquieting feeling. As the woman had said, it was so
easy
to conform.

They rode out past the trees and the wall came into view, a huge stone structure that looked impenetrable, although it was never more than a psychological joke to ones wanting to sneak in and out. A wooden superstructure had been built and the road had been extended to it. A bevy of armed guards and a machine gun outpost were set up there. The shield, not the wall, sealed them in, and they were there not to protect the wall but that machine that sustained the shield.

They ate in the shadow of the wall—a very nice picnic lunch, which she served. During the whole time Weiz had talked about inconsequentials, even some of his past, but never about what this was all about. Now, all packed up, he said, "Walk with me to the wall. I want to show you something."

She followed him, and they mounted the stairs to the top. The defensive positions, which looked both in and out, were formidable in appearance. She reflected, though, that if anybody could get close enough to the wall and had the arm for it, it wouldn't take more than two big grenades to wipe the post out. As a good wife, she kept her opinion to herself.