Project "Eye" part 18


    Photo: AV Photography

    Going back to speed. In fact, I really want to finish the story in less than a year, that is, I have time left until May 15th. This can be called a preliminary “final point”. Following it will be a global editing, perhaps some scenes will be rewritten and / or supplemented, and then the layout of the printed version of the book.

    Links to previous parts and an appeal to those who see the publication of the Eye for the first time:
    Eye is my personal literary project, the work on which I started in May of this 2015. From a small sketch, he grew into a science fiction work, the chapters of which I spread, as I write, on GT.

    Previous parts:

    Part 1
    Part 2
    Part 3
    Part 4
    Part 5
    Part 6
    Part 7
    Part 8
    Part 9
    Part 10
    Part 11
    Part 12
    Part 13
    Part 14
    Part 15
    Part 16
    Part 17





    She got caught. Caught stupid.

    Fearing the chase, Astrea almost did not use her module, otherwise Deimos would have found it too simply. She was so used to her abilities that she now felt blind and helpless. As it turned out, there was every reason for this.

    She regained consciousness. Squinting, trying to get used to the bright, beaming directly in the face light of several lamps on the wall, the girl strove to understand where she was.

    The last thing the eldest of the sisters remembered was that she was leaving the building where the underground laboratory was located. Then - a blow to the head, the clatter of heavy army boots.

    “The target was captured, as they understood, the reception,” while one of the fighters reported, the other two wringed her hands behind her back to tighten her wrists in the bracelets of soft handcuffs.

    Astrea tried to raise her head to understand who attacked her. One of the fighters noticed this and with another neat but strong blow of the butt on the back of the head knocked it out completely.

    And now, now she is here, in the hands of an unknown person.

    The head ached mercilessly, especially at the site of the impact, but the first thing the captive tried to do was scan the surrounding space with the help of the Eye module. To her surprise, she could not reach a single mind, even the thoughts of the man standing in front of her remained hidden to her, not to mention mental control.

    - Before you begin your attempts to break into my mind - the voice was well set, there was authority in it - I dare say that, for a start, it's worth listening to me. Plus, you still won’t be able to get out of here, girl. The room is shielded, so you cannot find helpers from the outside.

    Astrea just snorted.

    “But you somehow have to get out of here.”

    “Maybe,” her mysterious interlocutor turned and, limping on his left foot, moved to a chair at the other side of the table of this mysterious interrogation.

    Only when the man sat down did Astrea manage to examine him: a high forehead, dark hair, attentive, gray, deep-set eyes.

    - So. As far as I understood from the intelligence report, your callsign is Astrea, right?

    - This name.

    - Sorry?

    - Astrea is the name. My name is.

    The man didn’t even move.

    - You know, I saw a lot of John, Michael, Harry, but not a single Zeus, Apollo, and, especially, Astrea. Do you know what your name means? Where did it come from?

    “Name as name,” the girl tried to raise her hands from the table, but found herself tightly chained to a metal loop welded to the table through which her elastic handcuff bracelets were threaded.

    There was not a single opportunity to break out. It only remained to talk.

    “According to Greek mythology, Astrea is the daughter of Themis and Zeus,” the man leaned back in his chair and began to pull off his black leather gloves, “the goddess of justice.” Judging by the reports, you’re just another freak that kills everyone indiscriminately, her interlocutor leaned forward, am I right?

    Astrea turned away, as far as the handcuffs allowed, without saying anything, and lowered her face down.

    - Good. So be it.

    He threw aside the floor of the cloak, under which there was gray unknown to Astrea, but, it was not in doubt, his military uniform, and pulled a pistol out of his holster.

    “You have a very simple choice, Astrea.” Either you convince me that you can have a dialogue with, or I’ll shoot you right here. You know, my authority allows me to pronounce a sentence alone, bonuses of wartime, which for us never ended.

    - I’m not going to talk, don’t understand with anyone, even if you have a barrel in your hands, - rage began to boil in the girl’s chest. She was not afraid of anyone before - she will not flinch now.

    “Deimos doesn't count. He is not a man, ”Astray corrected her own thoughts.

    - Yes? - A look of gray, with an icy-blue tint of eyes, it seemed, they were now drilling a hole in it. - That is, you are not afraid of me? - He picked up a gun and pointed it at the interrogated head.

    - I got it right.

    After a little thought, the man lowered his gun and continued:

    “And what does it take for you to speak?” Ah, Astrea?

    - For a start, it would be nice to introduce myself, you know my name.

    He laughed.

    “And you are not as simple as you seem, girl.” Okay, be your way. My name is Colonel O'Connell.

    “Another martinet,” Astrea tried to stretch her shoulders, stiff from an uncomfortable posture, “and even an Irishman.”

    “Let it be a soldier, if it’s more comfortable for you, and yes, an Irishman,” O'Connell picked up a cane, which had previously been under the table and was hidden from Astrea’s gaze, and approached the girl, “I know a lot about you, Astrea . I know how you and your sister got into the Eye project program, I know about modules, operations, and your potential. I know who lobbied and financed the development of you as a fighter. I even know the past of your creator, Mike Ivor. But there is one small, annoying problem.

    - And which one? - Astrea raised her head and looked carefully at her interlocutor.

    - The picture does not converge, Astrea. The whole story with your top-secret "weapon of retaliation", or what other epithets did the Eye Project call as one big puzzle. Only problem is that it lacks details. And you give me them.

    - Why is that?

    O'Connell turned the cane in his hands, as if thinking, to warm Astrea with a round copper knob, or wait a bit.

    Time dragged on painfully, for a long time, as if it had become rubber. The colonel looked at his captive, the captive looked at the colonel. This game of peepers lasted a good two minutes, until O'Connell broke the silence, previously broken only by their breath.

    - I am interested in one fact. It is not surprising that all the strings lead to one point, no matter how I try to pull them differently.

    The colonel again ran his hand behind the floor of his cloak, in which he sat, even though he was indoors, and pulled out a small officer tablet. Touching the screen several times, he handed it to Astrea.

    “I’ve been looking for my old friend for a long time,” O'Connell hesitated, leaned back in his chair and put his cane on his knees, “he lost his former friend and colleague a few months ago and it seems to me that you can help me, and he, in in turn, will be able to help me in finding answers.

    Astrea listened carefully to O'Connell, and only then took the tablet outstretched to her from his hands. A middle-aged man in captain's uniform looked at her from the screen, looked strictly, but confidently.

    “Have you seen him before in the center?”

    “You say this is your former friend?”

    - Yes.

    “I’ve never seen him before,” answered Astrea, and again, for confidence, she looked at the tablet screen.

    No doubt Deimos was looking at her from the photograph.

    “Why do you think this person can help you?” - Astrea spoke as carefully as she was capable of in this situation.

    Colonel O'Connell just grinned and, reaching forward, took his tablet back.

    - Maybe because it was from him that you ran away headlong, leaving your sister?

    Astrea was stunned. She absolutely did not understand what kind of person was sitting in front of her and how he knew so much, because it is obvious that Deimos would in every way hide the very fact of his existence, not to mention his abilities, of course, up to a certain point, because if she had acted she would be so. The girl stared at her hands with cracked skin from the chemicals on her fingers, broken nails and, what saddened her most now, with handcuff bracelets on her wrists. Even without the Oka module, she was a trained fighter who could easily deal with a lame colonel.

    “You have time to think, while I have other things to do,” O'Connell broke the silence.

    He got up from his seat and, leaning on a cane and not hiding his own limp in any way, moved towards the girl, took out a small folding knife from the pocket of his cloak, and while Astrea tried to understand what was happening, cut the bracelets with which she was chained to the loop with one sharp movement in the table.

    - Personally, I think better when I walk, although now it’s not easy. Think Astrea, I think you need friends, ”he said and went out the door.

    ...

    Melissa slept badly. Although she spent almost six months in the center, while she was training to use her module and was under the supervision of doctors, now, after the expanse of the surface, this place seemed to her a concrete grave. A huge concrete grave.

    Reluctantly, she got up from the official bed and went to wash herself in one T-shirt: the only advantage of the base is that she does not have to sleep in clothes.

    Already in the bathroom, she noticed a used disposable machine on the floor, which, apparently, was left from the last tenant of the room. Melissa picked it up, twisted it in her hands, and then laid it on the edge of the sink.

    A machine forgotten by someone caused an avalanche of memories in her mind about the time when she had not yet met Matt and Oliver, when she had not gone on a strange assignment given to her personally by adviser Harris, when she was simply assigned to the intelligence department ...

    - Get up, at we have a lot of work, - he always got up quietly, without an alarm clock, as if in his head, under a dark thick hair, he had his own.

    In response, Melissa was able to give out only something inarticulate. They slept quite a bit and, although she was a trained and strong fighter, she was nowhere near twenty to indulge in joys all night, and in the morning to feel as if nothing had happened.

    But this did not affect him in any way, although, quite possibly, the matter was solely in his self-control and responsibility.

    - Maybe we are still lying? - She asked this question every time she stayed in his apartment, and did not go to the barracks, and each time she received the same answer.

    “Mellie, honey, you know we should be in the department at eight, get up.”

    “That’s why you get there every time by seven-thirty, right?”

    The man sat on the edge of the bed and, throwing a strand of red hair, kissed her forehead.

    “I come earlier so as not to arouse suspicion.”

    “God, every secretary in the department already knows that you are sleeping with me,” Melissa picked up the blanket and closed her eyes again, “but, as you see, no one will do anything for us.”

    The man looked at her for a long time and carefully, sighed a little irritatedly and began to say what he had repeatedly explained to his girlfriend:

    “Understand, Mellie, this is the status quo.” Until we advertise our relations, and while they do not interfere with our service, the command turns a blind eye to this. Because we are helpful. But as soon as any doubts arise in our loyalty, in our diligence and subordination, the consequences can be extremely serious. How many young guys from my department were burnt during novels and affair with colleagues - he got out of bed and, limping heavily on his left foot, moved to a chair where his uniform was neatly folded and there was a cane with a heavy round copper knob.

    Melissa was always surprised that science was able to make her a telepath, able to subordinate the will of other people, but could not cure the lameness of her beloved man.

    They talked about it. Richard was wounded in his youth, when he was a lieutenant. Then the doctors were able to save the leg, but he lost a large piece of muscle, and improper healing gave him a limp and a cane. He was not scrapped, as is the case with many wounded, but transferred to staff work, where he was noticed by counterintelligence.

    “Don't look at me like a cripple,” Richard said without even looking back.

    “And how do you know that I'm looking at you?” - Melissa was always surprised at his ability to “see the back of the head”, as Richard himself expressed.

    - I already told you - I feel my back.

    He took things off his chair and began to dress. With socks and trousers, he tinkered a little with his leg, but afterwards, Melissa watched as enchanted as her lover turns into a tall, handsome colonel of counterintelligence. Following the brilliantly cleaned boots and shirt, it was the turn of the tie - another archaism, a relic of the past, without which, however, Richard did not appear at all in public, after - a gray tunic with the colonel's eagles and a reconnaissance badge on the lapel, and, finally, a cane .

    Melissa hated this cane. How much she would give in order to see Richard relaxed, freely striding towards her, and not concentrated waddling, although, admittedly, not without dignity and a certain grace, the breed inherent in him.

    For herself, she decided that it was all about posture. Unlike other cripples that she had met in life, to call her lover so even before the beginning of their relationship, her tongue would not have turned. Richard created the impression of an officer, moreover, a military officer, an honest and dignified man, and it was posture that played a significant role in this image. Even at their first meeting, when she arrived after studying at the location of his department and got to Colonel Richard O'Connell “on the carpet”, Melissa noticed how smoothly he was holding his back, even taking into account his injured leg.

    But on that first day, she was very surprised that she would be commanded by a man hardly older than herself (as it turned out, their age difference was only three years in Richard's favor), and even lame. Usually they were not kept in the army.

    “Get up, Mellie, just in time for eight,” he went to the bed to kiss her goodbye.

    Melissa rose as high as possible on her elbow, so that Richard did not have to lean too low, which was problematic for him because of his leg.

    - Well, I'll give the keys later.

    After the door of the apartment slammed, she lay still for a minute, just staring at the ceiling, and after one movement she got out of bed. When washing, she noticed that Richard had forgotten to throw away the disposable machine he had shaved in the morning. He stayed on the edge of the sink.

    Just like the one that now lay in front of her ...

    With a jerk of her head, as if dropping the fetters of memory, Melissa splashed icy water into her face. The training camp took even less time than washing up - she had to go to the medical floor, where Oliver was now lying.

    He somehow reminded her of her Richard, but at the same time they were completely different. Both had an inner core, strength, but if Richard was crippled only from the outside, then Oliver, to a greater extent, was a crippled soul.

    Each time, being near the Steel General, she felt under what oppression of the affairs of her own hands he was.

    “There is no worse judge than you,” thought Melissa, stepping out of the elevator.

    Oliver met her with a faint smile and a raised hand in greeting.

    - Well, how are you? - asked Melissa and sat on the edge of the bunk, throwing the blanket to the side.

    “On the whole, it’s not bad, but now I wouldn’t refuse a good piece of meat,” Oliver was, surprisingly, in a good mood, “to eat, not to pass.”

    - Well, I'll try to come up with something for you. How do you go already?

    “Yes,” Oliver sat in his bunk on his own, although he wrinkled a little from the pain in the process, “I don’t know what they are injecting me with, but rubbish is picky. How many people we would have saved, if we had, at one time, at least half of these drugs.

    Melissa smirked.

    “Well, what can I tell you, this is the best of the best hospitals.”

    - Yeah, just above us three hundred meters of land, and yes, the best of the best.

    - What about the head?

    “It hurts,” Oliver admitted.

    Dr. Ivor was worried about him after the injections of EP-22, and since it would be suicide to advertise the location of their little team here underground, they put Melissa to watch his mental state. Deimos promised that while he was here, no one would even pay attention to their existence. He kept his word. Matt calmly moved upstairs, and all the oncoming people, even the operators who were trained by other specialists, either did not notice him, or mistook him for some old acquaintance, whose existence, among other things, was almost immediately forgotten.

    Melissa thought about Deimos. His power was amazing. She left the center before the operation was carried out and did not find the period of his training with the sisters. He also instilled horror in her.

    “Yeah, they picked him up well,” she thought.

    In general, the process of selecting names was a very strange procedure. Several operators collectively analyzed the associations arising in the subject during the viewing of the video sequence, and then, based on his reaction, selected names. Used names, animals, names of gods. True, only those who survived amnesia or a serious head injury underwent the procedure - unfortunately, Mike Ivor did not have the perfect working material, but people without a past are much more convenient. But there were individuals who voluntarily abandoned old names. For example, sisters.

    "Astrea and Adikia, Adikia and Astrea ...", scrolled through her thoughts.

    Melissa volunteered, as the chances of a fatal outcome were minimal, and she had no particular choice. What can a woman in the army do? Carry papers and tea to thick-handed staff members? Not for this, she passed in youth, along with everyone, the selection, not for this she trained for so many years and tried to curry favor.

    And now, now she is here, it is not clear which side of the barricades.

    “What was that whip planning, Harris?” And where the hell is Richard? ”

    She sank into memory again, the day Richard convinced her to agree to an adventurous, secret mission that Counselor Harris had sent down to their department.

    “Honey, please, I need someone from those whom I trust to take up this business,” he told her then.

    As it turned out, Richard trusted only two people: her and himself.

    No connection, no contact. He only promised her that when the time came, he would find her. And Richard said he didn’t believe Harris.

    From her experience working with him, Melissa could confidently say that from the lips of Richard it sounds like a sentence to a person.

    “I don't believe Harris, Mellie. He is up to something, something that is ruining our already mortally wounded state from the inside. It seems to me that he pits all of us, ”Richard told her one evening.

    "Bleeds?" Army and intelligence? ”She asked.

    “Take it higher,” he leaned over the bottle, splashed himself brandy and leaned back in his favorite chair, “pits the army, the Council, even the resistance to each other. You can’t imagine how much effort I have made over the years to reach a truce with the rebels and to settle a lot of questions inside the country and the capital in particular, where almost half of the population now lives. But each time I came across an invisible hand that did everything exactly, but vice versa. Do not believe Harris, Mellie. "

    And now, now she is here, in the center, along with his, Harris, older brother - Matt, almost a traitor, and the only thing that connects her with the country she serves is Richard.

    “Hey, Mellie, are you here?”

    The woman started and returned to reality - to Oliver’s ward.

    “You looked as if you were going to bury someone.”

    In response, Melissa only smiled languidly.

    “No, Oliver, it's all right.” Will you sleep?

    “Yes, I will not refuse, there is nothing to do catastrophically,” he answered.

    - Well, then I won’t wake you up after the procedures.

    Melissa touched the mind of Steel General and plunged him into a deep, healthy sleep.

    In general, in a sleeping state, the human mind is most vulnerable to operators. No barriers, only a bare subconscious. It was in it that Melissa was now, trying to find signs of an EP-22 defeat that threatened Oliver. Fortunately, she did not have to go far for an example - Deimos opened his consciousness for a moment for her, and now she knew exactly what to look for.

    Chaos.

    “How does he still remain in his right mind?”, - working with Oliver did not require high concentration and looking through his mind, Melissa was often distracted by her own thoughts, “There was no stone on the stone. How? ”

    However, the fact remains that Deimos was not a psycho in the full sense of the word. A psychopath - completely, given that they learned from himself, and after that from the youngest of the sisters - Adikia. Another question is what they were talking with Oliver.

    The steel general only said that they have very little time and they need to hurry, and he will explain everything else later. Melissa was tempted to break into that part of his mind where memories are stored and find out what happened in the ward then, but with some fifth feeling she understood that it wasn’t worth it.

    Plus, in the current state of Oliver, she could trite to harm him with this. In any case, Matt did not show any concern, which means that she will follow his example.

    ...

    Astrea spent a good five in the cell, or maybe all eight hours. It is difficult to observe the progress of time in a room without windows and hours.

    At some point, the door opened silently and O'Connell appeared on the threshold.

    The scout got rid of his cloak and was now in a gray tunic, on the shoulders of which the "eagles", defining his rank, gleamed dimly.

    Astrea tried to touch his mind with the Oka module, but again came across a void. The impression was that the colonel simply did not exist, since she was absolutely sure that now her module was working and she was trying to use it.

    - What is such a tense face? - O'Connell, still leaning on his cane, moved to his chair. “Ah, I probably know.” You can't get right here, ”he tapped his temple with his index finger,“ well, that's all right, don’t be afraid. ” The space of this room is filled with electromagnetic interference. For humans, and even for the operator, they are completely harmless, but, as you see, making you, to some extent, blind. By the way, we also have a mobile version of the emitter, otherwise we would not have taken you there in the industrial zone, ”he added, anticipating the next question from the eldest of the sisters.

    He sat down in a chair and motioned Astrae to follow suit.

    “Have a seat, dear, I hope you thought well for the time that I was not here.”

    Astrea looked at the man carefully, but sat down on her chair.

    “Colonel ...” she began.

    “You can just Richard, you're not my subordinate, at least not yet,” he smiled slyly.

    “Good,” Astrea agreed, “Richard, before I finally decide whether I will help you or not, answer me one question.”

    - And what?

    “What will you do with this person whose photo you showed me when you find it?” And why are you even looking for him?

    “This is not one, but two questions,” Richard grinned, “okay, be your way.” I'll start with the last: why am I looking for him? - The Colonel leaned forward and all the gaiety flew off his face - now he was extremely serious - because a week ago he disappeared without a trace from the research center, where he had been in recent months.

    “What? ..” Astrea began to pound a little from such news.

    “HE IS OUTSIDE ?!”

    - And the answer to the first question is simple - I will do what circumstances require.

    “But he's your friend.”

    “I buried my friend Henry Johnson a few months ago.”

    “Is his name Henry?”

    “Yes,” O'Connell was a little surprised, “what did you call him?”

    The girl fell silent for a second, and then quietly, with a slightly trembling voice, she answered:

    “Deimos.” In the center he was given the name Deimos.

    O'Connell silently watched Astrea.

    “As I see it,” the man finally said, “he really knows how to instill terror.”


    In order to keep readers up to date with the pace of work, and just chat without fear of being hit by a banhammer on GT, or if you do not have an active account, in the vastness of VK I created a group dedicated to the Eye project . We are already one and a half thousand people!

    Welcome.

    Criticism, ratings, discussions and feedback in the comments, as always, are highly welcome.



    Part 19

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