34
"Stop stop stop ... STOP! Astra, you need to sing. If I can't hear you, neither will the audience."
"But-"
"No buts! When you did your part in here by yourself you were awesome. Why are you so quiet now that we're together?"
Yim stepped away from her microphone to lean against the wall, bemused but apparently willing to let me handle things with Astra, who obviously had a bad case of stage fright ... which was complete bullshit since there was no audience.
"I- I want to make sure they can hear you!" she stuttered, practically babbling. Her beak was half-covered by her feathers and she was crouching away from me as though afraid I'd hit her.
"They'll hear me. Believe that. But the backup vocals are important. You are important. The whole point of this song is the message, and if you sound like you're scared to be there it falls apart. We're going to be doing this live in front of who knows how many people and we only get one shot at it."
"I could withdraw and-"
"No. Too late. I've heard you sing and you're awesome. I want your voice."
"But if I mess up on stage you'll kill me!" she abruptly screeched, then bolted for the door. She caught the recess with a foot talon and flipped it open in a move that I couldn't help but think would easily disembowel me, then slammed it shut with a perfect backspin. Her moves were so unexpectedly awesome that it took me a moment to realize what she'd actually said.
Then I looked at Yim and said, "Help me understand what just happened. When did I ever threaten her?"
Yim showed her hands and said, "It's not that you ever threatened her, it's just that you are threatening. When you get heated, it scares her."
"You are fucking kidding me."
She just blinked twice at me in packwren denial, then shrugged.
"This is not a daycare! What the hell am I supposed to do about that?" I asked, gesturing after the departed. "We've got to perform this in one week!"
"You could try being nice to her," Yim said.
"I did nothing but compliment her!"
"Great, now do it gently."
"Oh for fuck's sake!"
Yim raised an eyebrow and said, "You could try practicing on me, because, you know, I don't exactly appreciate being yelled at about something I didn't do and which isn't my fault."
"So you can't do anything?" I asked, trying to moderate my tone as I waved toward the door.
"Certainly. I'm doing everything I can, right now. I'm your trainer, not hers. The problem here isn't her anyway, it's you. You've spent a great deal of time and effort building up your image as an unstoppable, merciless killing machine. Congratulations, job done. Now, you have to deal with the consequences. All the consequences."
"But she's on my team."
"So was Mauren."
That one stopped me cold and I winced, then glanced away as Yim gave me that steady, 'You know I'm right,' look.
"There was a good reason for that," I said, knowing even as I said it that it was a lame excuse.
"That you might kill her for failure is not an unreasonable assumption at this point, Taz."
I tipped my head up toward the ceiling, absolutely hating the fact that she wasn't wrong.
Taking a deep breath and doing my best to let all my frustration out along with the air, I stepped out of our impromptu recording room to see that Astra hadn't just fled the session, she'd fled the suite entirely.
Pala was reading a data pad on the couch. I glanced her way she confirmed my suspicion by jerking one of her four thumbs toward the door leading out into the hallway.
She didn't even look up.
"Fuck it. I don't have time for this. Yim, you and I will-"
"No. Go find her and bring her back," Yim said, smoothly interrupting me as she leaned against the doorframe behind me, arms folded. "You said it yourself: she has an amazing voice. If you try and rely on me alone for backup vocals the song won't sound anywhere near as good. Just remember, calm."
"I'm not calm."
"Lying is part of the show."
"I fuckin' hate this show!"
"It's not exactly in love with you either, but you are crushing it right now and in order to continue doing that you need to make nice. Go. Find her."
I stared at her, she stared back, and my frustration boiled over. I jerked my thumb over my shoulder and said, "Out."
She frowned at me, but when my stare didn't waver she moved away from the door. I stepped back into the recording room and slammed the door closed behind me as I muttered, "Fucking prima donna bullshit. God dammit!"
Hands mindlessly flexing, I stared at the equipment as though I'd find the answer to my dilemma there. It struck me as completely stupid to try chasing someone who can fly. If she didn't want to be found I'd just spend hours running around accomplishing nothing except to make myself look like a fucking fool in front of the cameras.
With a sigh I grabbed an instrument that I may as well call a guitar off its rack and sat down, strumming absently as I thought about the problem. As usual, my fingers started following an old melody and I wound up letting it all go as I sang Alan Jackson's Drive. After that I sang Alabama's Mountain Music, then started John Michael Montgomery's Letters from Home ... but that one I couldn't finish.
Some memories never lose their sting.
Instead, I picked things up again with Travis Tritt's T-R-O-U-B-L-E, then segued into Montgomery Gentry's Speed, then Kenny Chesney's I Go Back.
By the time I started Chris Cagle's Chicks Dig It I'd forgotten all about Astra, succubi, and fucked-up gameshow bullshit. I had my eyes closed and was completely in my own world.
Finishing the song, I opened my eyes to see Director Chosen watching from the door, which was closed behind her.
Blinking, I put the guitar aside and stood as I said, "Sorry, Director. I didn't notice you come in."
"Clearly," she said with a wry smirk, then tossed something at me.
I caught it, then turned it over in my hands.
"It's a bracer. Put it on. It'll snap into place, then follow me," she said.
Bemused, I did as she instructed, noticing as I did that she wore a similar bracer.
She slid the door open, but instead of the rest of the suite the portal now let out into a ... space. The smell of mildew was strong in the air, and there was turd-brown, worn, stained carpet under my feet that gave way to walls that were the most repugnant shade of yellow that I have ever seen. The ceiling was peppered with florescent lights that buzzed audibly, almost loudly, in the otherwise muted silence.
The room we were in gave way on all three sides to other spaces that were neither corridors nor rooms. Just ... spaces. Some were as wide as a hotel lobby while others narrowed down to multiple narrow entrances between pillars that seemed to serve no purpose other than to be in the way.
"What the hell?" I asked, turning as I did so to make sure I could still get out of what was one of the most profoundly disturbing places I'd ever visited. The door behind me was still open, and let out into the impromptu recording studio.
"Don't close that door," Director Chosen warned, turning to face me.
"Don't worry," I hastily assured her. "Where are we?"
"We are in liminal space. My company is named after it, and was founded for the express purpose of researching its properties," the director said, glancing around.
"Why've you brought me here?" I asked.
"Because one of the many properties of liminal space is that what happens here can't be monitored from outside save by direct observation. Your senses are usually recorded. Those transmissions are continuous and automatic, but here they simply don't reach their receivers. This conversation is private."
"You're demonstrating a great deal of trust," I noted, looking her up and down.
"Not really. If my heart stops a bomb powerful enough to leave nothing but shadows and dust will take my vengeance for me. Should you attempt to take me hostage or render me unconscious, that bracer will inject you with sedatives that will prevent you from escaping or doing further harm. My guard is on the other side of the office door. In five minutes, should we not return he'll step through and from inside the office will be able to follow us here."
"Okay, so you don't trust me."
Her smile was cold as she said, "Not even a little bit. However, our conversation requires a certain discretion, and we don't have long. I'm already paying an exorbitant fee to cut your feed for this private chat."
"What did you want to tell me?" I asked.
"Several things of note have occurred that you ought to be aware of if I'm to align your interests more closely with my own," she said. "First, there's now an official inquiry into the circumstances surrounding your existence, and all the preliminary evidence seems to support your being an illegal acquisition. That doesn't have any immediate consequences to you personally, but no further 'humans' will be permitted without a thorough investigation, which may take years to complete."
I very carefully said nothing, watching the director intently as I hid my relief. What she'd just said was a balm to my soul.
Once it was apparent to her that I didn't intend to give anything away, she asked, "You have no thoughts on this?"
"None. What else?" I asked.
She frowned at me, then shrugged and said, "You are no doubt unaware of this, but while your feed is continuous, what you've been recording inside that studio isn't available to the general audience. Prep work for this next contest is very carefully curated to prevent people from losing their anticipation for the main event. It has, however, caught the attention of some of the executives inside SDM, and they've offered Division Four a recording contract. Division Four hasn't responded yet because Director Lane is busy with the initial stages of the inquiry, however, should it go through you'll be required to compose and perform several more songs so that an album can be put together."
"Why would I do that?" I asked.
"They'll likely offer you very little if any recompense, so I actually recommend that you refuse," Director Chosen said, now smiling faintly. "My understanding is that you would like to earn out, which is to say, come as close as livestock can to freedom. In order to do this you'll have to negotiate a sizable royalty share in the profits from your recording and that recording will have to be good enough for advertisers to put it on air. SDM's producers think you can do it. Your ability to compose and perform has vastly increased your perceived value. Good for Division Four, not so much for Liminal Science. We've already had two offers to buy out your sponsorship, and there is a point past which I'll be forced to accept should your value rise too precipitously."
I thought about that, then said, "So how do I place myself more directly under the protection you're about to offer me?"
Director Chosen's wings spread a bit, and she lifted her chin as she smiled at me and said, "Demand that exclusive rights to your audio go to Liminal Science. That'll put a hard stop to your personal price increase. Do this, and we'll request an injunction to freeze your value at its current level and offer you a royalty that will go toward paying that price. Once you've achieved that value you'll earn out and be as much under your own recognizance as it is possible for livestock to be. You'll be able to forge your own rental agreements, make and spend your own capital, and — within certain limits — travel as you please."
"Will I be able to leave SDM?" I asked.
"Your ability to earn enough to make that happen before the end of the season is, even now, practically zero. I'm offering you a path, nothing more. Should you not take it, whatever you produce will enrich Division Four, your own success will drive your price further out of reach, and you'll never, ever get out from under the corporate thumb."
"I can get out any time," I said with a wry smile. "I still have nothing that's really worth living for."
"You seem to be enjoying yourself well enough. I think being on SDM agrees with you."
"I'm just working to justify your faith in me."
Director Chosen folded her arms under her rather eye-catching chest, and raised an eyebrow at me as her tail flicked my way. She said, "There's no point lying to me here. Remember, nothing that we say will be overheard. You want to destroy Division Four. I wouldn't mind letting that happen. When they come to you offering a contract, refuse and send them to Liminal Science to bargain. Make sure you tell them you'll only work through me. We'll get you the best deal you're going to get. And before you ask why I'd bother, it serves me personally as well as you. You get a concrete method of earning out, I get an influx of capital I can use to fund a few personal projects of mine."
"I want final signatory authority over whatever contract you hammer out. In other words, if my signature's not on it, I won't honor it," I said.
Chosen's eyes narrowed, and in that moment I knew I couldn't trust her, no matter what she said. She was a succubus after all. A succubus dealing with livestock.
I shook my head before she could answer and said, "Never mind. No deal. I don't trust you. Unless you can provide me proof that our agreement is binding, I've got no reason to help you more than I already am. You've heard my music. Clean it up and use it as is. It's not like I could stop you."
"Even if we cleaned up the quality there's no translation. We still need you to polish it. I'll find a way to convince you that I'll honor our bargain ... but you're right to question me. Shall we adjourn for now, then?"
"What's with this place?" I asked, waving my hand around and wrinkling my nose at the musty smell.
Looking around herself, Chosen said, "No one knows. The Reclaimers come to us from here, that's how we found it. It follows its own rules and seems completely endless."
"Why does it look like this?" I asked.
Chosen shrugged and said, "It just does. There are other ... spaces, connected to this one, and we can use it to transit from one world to another within our solar system. It's how we colonized the various planets that were habitable, or could be made so. This place seems to have no reliable boundaries. It functionally goes on forever."
"Seems like it would take a while to walk between planets," I said dryly.
She held up her bracer and said, "We have some small skill at manipulating our location within this liminal space, and have beacons planted, though they're often sabotaged. Transitioning between those locations is as simple as stepping from one room into the next, provided you have one of these. Unfortunately, some of the potential inherent in an endless space like this remains out of reach. While we can move from one point to one far distant, we can't prevent this place from moving things around on its own."
"So, long-term storage is a no-go, but it's a great place to dump waste," I said.
"Not so great a place to dump waste. Waste tends to attract the entities that also dwell here, and many of them are far more dangerous than you. Even were that not the case, the Reclaimers don't like it. Needless to say, our research is ongoing and expensive. For now, most of our revenue comes from transport and ... confidentiality. Shall we go?"
I walked past her to the boundary between the room we were in and the space beyond, but no matter what direction I looked I didn't see anything ... substantive. Endless walls with turns and corners that made no sense. The stink of moldy carpet. Oppressive florescent lights that buzzed and flickered ominously.
It was a horrifying place.
"Researchers get lost here with fair regularity, and those that are found alive have often lost their minds. Even if no entity finds you, should you become lost in here the fate that awaits you will most likely be ... unpleasant."
Director Chosen had stepped up behind me and was looking over my shoulder. I could feel her presence, and her boobs were practically on top of my head.
I turned to face her, which put me in her cleavage, and that I did not mind.
She tilted her head down at me and the faintly amused look in her eyes told me she didn't mind either. I said, "Danger turn you on?"
"It is one of my many interests, but if you want to indulge that interest, it's best we do so elsewhere. My company is responsible for studying this place, but it exists independent of our effort. Some claim it has a sort of intelligence of its own, but while not everyone cleaves to that idea, one thing is certain: it punishes the careless and unwary."
"Yeah, I can see that. There's something deeply unsettling about this place. As for your interest ... maybe. For all that I don't trust you, you're the closest thing to a friend I think a succubus could be, and I don't mind friendly sex," I said, then slipped past her again, heading for the way out with a determined step.
Something deeply primal was warning me that I shouldn't linger here in this ... liminal space.