The Wild Ba’Neesh Chapter Nineteen ©2019 Fay Thompson All Rights Reserved

Mick woke to a fairly rough shaking of his shoulder. He looked up bleary and confused. “What?” He tried to piece together why his mother had some guy in his bedroom standing over him with a stern expression. The guy was wearing all blacks, one point in his favor. Weirdly, he thought he maybe knew the guy’s name. It was Eljay or Elrod or…he blinked. “Elias?” He guessed, staring down in total surprise at his hand. It was silver. “Why am I silver?” He asked. At about that moment it gelled that he was lying naked under a stiff sheet on what looked like a medical bed.

“Sensor film. You have to use a particular solution to remove it. Jeffrey has that.”

Mick shook his head. “Do I know Jeffrey?” He asked, somehow trusting this Elias although he was way too old to be a friend, if Mick had any of those. He didn’t remember any. In fact, his memory was like a swirly in a toilet. The thought of a toilet triggered his body into announcing he needed one, right now.

“Toilet?” He managed the single word. The rest of the room was jammed with equipment, way tighter than a medical center room. Where was he? Even thinking about it made his head hurt so he decided it was better just to find the toilet and not think. A plan; don’t think because thinking hurts.

Elias reached out to grasp him under the right elbow, as if Mick were decrepit. He wanted to shrug off the touch but when he tried to walk his legs felt like warm noodles. “Shit.” He offered the mixed up world. Something was clearly wrong with him. He followed his new policy of not wanting to know. No thinking. That led him to allowing Elias to lead him into what was clearly a super tight toilet. Formed metal. Who the hell would form a toilet out of metal? Then he didn’t care, he was too busy bracing himself to pee. He watched himself, wondering if his pee would be silver too, but it came out looking pretty normal. His body didn’t seem to want the other end of things so he turned around hunting a fast wash for his hands.

The faucet operated with a push button. You pushed and a little water came out and then it stopped and you had to push again. Mick frowned at it. The silver crap on his hands didn’t wash off. “I’m silver all over?” He asked, looking at what he could see of his body and in the mirror. That was instructive. His hair was clumped out in chunks and they jutted out in all directions. Long hair, long spikes of silver. They were rather dab in one way and creepy in another. “I don’t think my hands are clean.” He picked through the words in his brain, hoping they were the right ones. He couldn’t be sure.

“We are docked. You probably should put on some clothing over the silver. There’s no time to get that off before we head topside.” Elias said.

Mick stood there, hearing the words and trying to make them make sense. The attempt caused his brain to hurt again. It seemed easier to just agree. So, he nodded. There, communication without words, the best ever.

Elias opened a backpack that had clothing that Mick suspected was his. Some had blood on them. Or, stains that looked like blood. It seemed reasonable enough, he was in some med center so likely there was some injury under the silver. He struggled to climb into underwear and pants. Elias found a wrinkly but clean looking shirt. They didn’t bother with shoes. Elias just told him to watch his step, there would be sandals later.

Mick said, “Okay.” And, he nodded again, pleased with himself. He watched Elias close the backpack and hoist it onto his back. There was something wrong about that. Mick tried to imagine what could be wrong and he couldn’t figure it out. A door opened and another man stuck his head in saying, “Is he ready?”

Clearly the man meant Mick. Elias nodded, “He needs help walking. You take the other side.”

Mick wasn’t too happy with this but again it was easier not to argue, he could barely stand on his own much less walk without help. “Okay.” He said, although no one had asked him. He noticed that guy number two had on a similar uniform as Elias only their patches were different and guy two’s clothing seemed fancier. He looked tailored. Mick mentally shrugged. Goodie goodie, he was with a pouf and what looked like military or security guys. No shoulder patches so more likely security. He couldn’t fit it together so he focused on walking, that was hard enough.

They arrived at the door and he noticed it had a rim and the door was metal with an honest to god spinning wheel lock thing, like for a vault only thinner and not so polished as those on vids. A ship? He had to really focus to move his legs up to step over. It felt like a lot of work and he waited for congratulations on his efforts from his two helpers. They tugged at him trying to move him faster. That annoyed Mick. Bastards.

His irritation seemed to lubricate his brain. “Where am I, Elias and who is this other joker?”

Rojer glared at him. “I’m Rojer Kirsan, otherwise or also known as Serla, Second of his Name.” His tone was pompous and affected.

“Toity, toity.” Mick found his voice and a better flow to his words. This was like a game. “Is that supposed to mean something special Rojer? You look like a pompous walking asshole.”

Elias snickered. It appeared Mick’s vitriol had survived.

“Shut up, Elias.” Rojer snapped out. “I do not look like a pompous walking asshole.” He worried that maybe he did. Mick was rather brutal in direct assessment.

They came to another raised doorway with its hatch open. Mick realized the word was hatch and that elicited a grin. He knew the word hatch. “This is a ship.” He announced. His gait and balance were both improving even if he still felt weak and shaky.

“No, it’s a submarine.” Rojer replied sarcastically.

“A submarine? How the hell am I on a submarine?” Mick stopped and frowned at Rojer. “I don’t remember… Wait. Gods my brain is a fucking mess.” He looked over at Elias. “Why is my brain mess your fault, Elias?”

Elias flinched. “I did my best. How was I to know we are Ba and you had your fragment sequences in my head? Come on, you are slow as dirt and they are freaking waiting on us. We are last off.”

Mick found he could pick through the words and they still didn’t half make sense. My what? Fragment sequences? And, what the hell is Ba. You are a vague son-of-a-bitch, Elias.”

Elias tugged at his arm. “Move it, Mick. I’m in enough trouble already and it’s all your fault.”

“Yeah.” Rojer agreed. “I wouldn’t be under Her compulsion if you hadn’t got into this mess.”

Mick struggled forward looking from one guy to the other. What mess? Who was this Her person? They arrived at a ladder.

“You gotta climb this, Mick.” Elias said. “You first, we will try to push you up and Brad is up there to pull you once you are close.”

“Brad?”

“Yeah, the Pirate.” Elias answered, “He’s in exo so lifting you is no problem but it might hurt your arms.”

“A Pirate?” Mick stared up the ladder to see exactly what Elias had said, a man in an exo. Familiar. A friend. “I like you don’t I?” He yelled upward.

Brad, nearly inverted looked down to see the silver boy staring up. “Yes, I believe so.” He answered.

“Okay. I’ll climb then.” Mick suited words to action and forced his right foot onto the rung. He immediately regretted the absence of shoes. “Fuck Elias, this tread has teeth. What about my fucking hiking boots?”

“Sorry.” Elias answered. “I forgot about the treads. Just climb. We’ll shove and you’ll barely feel them.”

“Barely is right.” Mick complained “Damn fucking shit. Last time I listen to you talking about shoes.” He shoved himself upward trying to move each foot as fast as possible so the unpleasant treads wouldn’t dig in too hard. It hurt. He yelled out more curses and called Elias a string of progressively nasty words.

Elias and Rojer both had a hand on Mick’s butt, shoving him upward together.

“Seems his mouth survived intact.” Rojer observed.

“Yeah. Noted that.” Elias was actually pleased that Mick sounded like Mick. He seemed confused, but hell, hours ago he’d been a brain wipe. It was all about perspective. He held onto his hidden thrill that his own mechanism for brain wipe or editing was forever gone, because of Mick, even if it had left him with a strong header.

Mick arrived on the upper level shaky and sweaty except the silver skin held all the stinky moisture against his real skin causing a sensation a lot like chafing. He could imagine himself with a whole body rash, not a pleasant thought.

There was another ladder, a much more substantial one, heading upward to where Mick could see an open iris-type hatch. There was a snug-down hatch above that, a dual system. His mind tried to tell him something about doubled entry systems but he couldn’t hold on to it. He eyed the treads on the bigger ladder, they were simply wider versions of the same nasty, pokey bumps. “I’m not using that.” He said, “Not without my hiking boots.”

“We have to go up to reach Citadel.” Rojer argued. He was taller than Mick and his natural tendency to bully roared to life. It was time to leave, his father was up there watching, ergo they needed to leave before his father got pissed at him and Rojer wasn’t going to let some silver piss ant cause him problems. “You climb now!” Rojer leaned over Mick in an intimidating way.

Brad, who had pulled Mick up, resisted the urge to instantly intervene. It would be instructive to see how Mick responded to such provocations.

Mick ignored Rojer as if he weren’t there. He was leaning on one of the walls and rubbing the bottom of his left foot. The marks left by the treads were clear and defined as indents. Elias arrived to glare around, “Why aren’t we heading out?” He asked.

“You go on.” Mick said. “I’m going to find my boots.”

“We are escorting you.” Elias said, “This is all about getting you topside of this vessel.”

“Great.” Mick switched to rub at his right foot. “You go first then.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Rojer turned, stowed his weapon again in the side loop on his belt and headed up the main ladder. Mick noted the weapon. It might be helpful to have one too.

The rest of them watched Rojer, Mick included. Rojer stuck his head up through the upper hatch to see that the dock was full of DireSec operatives, milling Ba’Neesh and the top brass who had been aboard. Ranging along the top of the submarine were its captain and most of its crew, clearly taking in the air and the scene with some interest.

“Well, don’t linger there.” Thorne stepped toward Rojer. “Is Mick behind you?”

Rojer was trying to lift his right foot up to the next tread, without success. He could feel something between him and actually getting out of the sub. “I’m not lingering and Mick is down there complaining about his missing boots.”

“You are lingering, ever the drama queen.” Thorne said again. “Come out.”

Rojer realized that the longer he stood there the less able he was to fathom why he was supposed to go up instead of down. The compulsion swelled inside of him. “Fuck!” He said aloud. And, then he realized heads were turning to look at him without favor. Swearing. The damn swearing was contagious. It was as if Mick’s gutter mouth was a virus and he’d caught it.

“Come out, Rojer.” Thorne had reached the edge of the dock when several Ba’Neesh trotted over to wedge themselves between Thorne and the dockway that connected the sub to the dock. “What are you doing?” He yelled at the Ba’Neesh, noting they were facing the sub, not him.

“I am not able to come out, father.” Rojer answered finally once he had exhausted his effort and was sweating hard.

Thorne stared at the back of the Ba’Neesh heads, who were ignoring him but preventing him from approaching the submarine. Clearly something was going on.

“She cannot have you.” The closest Ba’Neesh told Thorne.

“Captain. See if you and your men can pull Rojer out.” Thorne ordered, peeking between the Ba’Neesh even he didn’t dare to touch, mulling over her words. Have him.”

Captain Powell and three of his security team walked over to the hatchway and peered down. One after the other the security men attempted to step into the opening, each encountering an invisible wall. The Captain tried as well, to no avail. “We are being blocked.” The Captain’s tone was incensed. “Has that thing taken my boat, Thorne?”

Rojer could see he would only lose more traction with his father by staying and reminding him of Rojer’s current forced disobedience. He stepped down slow at first and then hurried, enjoying a sense of relief the deeper he went.

“Won’t let me out, Elias.” He announced once his feet hit the deck.

Elias tried next, to the same results. Mick had sagged down to watch as his guards conferred amongst themselves, trying to shield him from their words and no doubt secondary plans. Mick tried to sort out why that didn’t worry him. It didn’t logic up.

Brad lumbered over to the ladder to take its treads two at a time. He had to twist to move his exo shoulders through the hatchway. “I appear able to move through.” He announced, even though he didn’t move any further through than his chest.

“Well, come out of there.” Mael was next to Thorne behind the line of Ba’Neesh.

“I believe I will be staying with Mick, for the moment.” Brad answered with a hint of surprise in his tone. “He is functional, but only just. I see no harm in remaining aboard.”

Mael frowned. He didn’t want Brad in harms way and Kiena was harm in the worst possible way.

Grand Master Guardian Ornius arrived to crab his way through the milling crowd so that he too could peer through the wall of Ba’Neesh. “So, you’re not stuck then Brad?” He asked.

“No Ornius. I feel no compulsion either way.” Brad answered.

Ornius tapped on two of the Ba’Neesh, smiling at each. “Let me through.” He said calmly but firmly.

The Ba’Neesh had a thing for Ornius. He was very old and utterly unafraid of them. That alone was exciting. Then there were his many peculiar robes. In normal times, within Citadel, the attending Ba’Neesh youngers, now students, would chase Ornius through the halls trying to touch his robes. His robes, being heavily protected by hidden means, danced and fanned out and jabbed at them like an adversary, making them squeal and laugh. He was probably the best liked Soek of all, right behind the Turtle. The Ba’Neesh gave way and allowed Ornius forward.

Ornius crossed the dockway to lean down to more easily talk to Brad. “Have you met Her yet? Yes, I saw the medical room footage. I mean in your head you silly math pirate.”

“Not yet. Or, I haven’t slept yet.” Brad admitted. He was overdue for a sleep period but at the moment he didn’t feel particularly tired.

“Do you feel obstructed.” Brad asked.

Ornius reached over to touch Brad’s massive upper shoulder. “No. It appears She is indifferent to whether I come or go as well.” He looked down through the narrow crack that was all that was open with Brad blocking the way.

“Kiena not your true name, Neeshatari.” He called out, “I am stupid Soek Master Ornius of Citadel. I offer you welcome to enter and stay etc. We are here to serve you.” There was no answer. Ornius looked crestfallen and then he perked up again. “Personally, I invite you to invade my brain during my sleep period, or otherwise, as I would greatly like to hear your experiences. I give you welcome permission even though I know you can enter without that, there is some distinction between being invited or not.” Everyone knew Ornius loved to talk, to himself if no one else was present. “Right. Well, there’s that. Parked here on the sub is as good, almost, as being inside the facility. Again, you are our guest, not our captive, no matter what these other Soek might think.”

Thorne twitched. He knew Ornius was speaking for all of them. Not really his place but on Citadel, Grand Master Ornius was the law. Thorne flailed at the politics which prevented him from overruling Ornius. He knew better than to try to force the issue and that reason was standing next to him, Mael Strom. Master Ornius was like Mael’s father/mentor/co-conspirator although they were not actually related by blood. Thorne had tried fighting them before, and lost. He might dislike the power structure that had evolved, but in truth, it had worked far better than he expected for a long time. His resentment was more personal, a beating of his ego.

“Right.” Ornius turned to head back toward the waiting line of Ba’Neesh. “Where are the boy’s boots? Didn’t he have them on when you hauled him into this sub? Do I have to fabricate some to fit?”

Master Jeffrey stepped forward, followed by two DireSec operatives carrying containers. “That would be me, Grand Master Guardian Ornius.” He said carefully.

“You. Oh right, you are the Healer. Welcome to the Citadel Jeffrey. Why doesn’t that boy have his boots?”

“Strategy, Sir. It was felt that being bootless would reduce his tendency to flight.” Jeffrey answered. He towered over Ornius, remembering the old Soek as being taller and more garrulous. It was clear his leadership position had agreed with his temperament. This was only Jeffrey’s second return to Citadel after his own escape. A checkered past.

“Likely so, but foolish. Surely you don’t think hiding his boots will alleviate his potentials.”

“Kiena, Sir.” Mael interrupted. “It was felt some measures should be taken now that Mick was more directly in our control.”

“An unconscious boy is a measure of control?” Ornius snorted.

“You know what Kiena can do, Sir.” Mael continued.

“Do I?” Ornius looked up at his favorite person in the entire world. “Do I really, Mael Strom? I know what she did, not what she could have done. Restraint. Admirable restraint for a Ba’Neesh, nay Neeshatari. Quite laudable.”

Mael gasped, as did the transport operatives who had been live witnesses to the tunnel affair. Ornius’ assessment landed to Mael’s widening perspective. “Trust you to set me straight my dear Master Ornius. Restraint. I am indeed stupid.”

Thorne was absorbing the same message, as was Xasper. The resulting understanding was terrifying.

“You have ideas on how to improve the MagC on the sub?” Ornius directed this question at Thorne. “You should consider Her requests, gloved orders Thorne.”

Thorne nodded as that too settled in.

Ornius pivoted toward the captain and crew, now anxiously pacing the top of the sub. “If She doesn’t let you back in, which seems reasonable if I were Her, there is housing inside the facility, use the wall com to be directed by Ops. I suggest testing everyone on this dock to see who She wants and who She doesn’t want aboard. There are five human crew and two Soek aboard now? Yes. Your Executive Officer and Munitions Lieutenant are apparently acceptable. I see a kitchen helper, a miscreant who got drunk and disorderly in your last port, confined to his quarters and a maintenance supervisor working on a plumbing issue. Is that accurate, Captain? And, of course the remaining two DireSec operatives, lurking in wait just out of sight of Mick.”

Thorne moaned to himself.

Jeffrey had waited through this one-way dialogue. He liked Ornius, the Soek was brilliant and empathetic, an unusual combination. “I should try, Sir.”

“You can’t go in there Jeffrey, what if She takes you?” Thorne pushed his head between two of the Ba’Neesh who stomped a bit but would allow no more than his head through.

“Service Thorne.” Jeffrey answered. “I serve. You, the Directorate, the Citadel, the Soek, the Ba’Neesh. It’s all service. I am willing to serve Her and said so in the Infirmary hours ago. My patient is down there, unfit, covered in sensory skin he won’t be able to remove on his own and in recovery from a total brain wipe. I am clear where I belong.”

Brad was backing down the hole as Jeffrey used the dockway. He was wearing his operative backpack that held his personal gear and behind him two DireSec operatives were fully loaded, hauling the ingredients for the film removal as well as Jeffrey’s personal remedies. They were assigned to Master Jeffrey and viewed these circumstances as merely the current assignment. They were both Soek, low level but good tempered.

Jeffrey stopped over the hole. “Kiena, I’m sending down my assistants with my gear. I will follow with Mick’s boots. Okay?”

As expected, there was no answer. But, first one, then the second assistant both disappeared down the hatch hole without any difficulty, along with their burdens. Jeffrey looked across at the gathering. “Likely some among you should follow me. Try. We are all stupid humans and stupid Soek, all of us have been listening to the rhetoric coming out of that last dust up at that tunnel. The Directorate, that means us too, are now identified as terrorists. I am guessing they will be on the attack. Do you want to be with the blue weapon or not? They will be coming for us all. Time to Soek up. No more brain wipes, thank Mick for that.” Jeffrey looked down, “I’m tossing the damn boots down first.” He followed by tossing the boots. And, then he disappeared down the hole.

(Here we go. Mick on a submarine. I’ve been on a Naval one in real life. They are super tight inside. Of course, this sub is different, as you shall see. Enjoy! Oh, and boost my rating back up. I like fives! ::grins::)