Chapter 5
They arrived in a quiet, dimly lit underground chamber. Seven led them straight to a terminal where he produced four necklaces and asked them to put them on.
“I don’t think so,” McCoy said.
“The harm feature is disabled. That said, should your collar light up and pulse, I recommend you feign injury or you will bring a level of scrutiny down on you that might result in death,” Seven said. “You will have the mark of a provider and a little more leeway than many thralls.”
Garcia and McCoy collared themselves while Seven puts the collar on Lincoln. He then collared himself, and retrieved a cloak from the replicator and put it on.
“Wait,” Tam said. “Can’t I be a master?”
“No. You’re not known here,” Seven said. “I have a history here. Now, I need to go speak with my agent. I want you to go train.”
“Train? You mean go fight and be a part of their entertainment?” McCoy asked. “Leonard, Tam,” Seven said. “This is just a quiet little mission, information gathering. I don’t know what’s changed. Liberation event wasn’t supposed to happen till the 23rd century with Kirk. I don’t know if we’re on target for that event, given the temporal distortions. Don’t do anything big. But go, train. I will be monitoring you and will intervene should things get too insane.”
“Too insane? This whole this all thing is already way beyond that. These people are slaves, stolen from all parts of the galaxy to fight to the death for entertainment value only, and you want us to go and fight and pretend to be a part of this mess?” McCoy said.
“Yes,” Seven said.
“I am a doctor, not a gladiator,” McCoy snapped.
“Today, I need you to be both,” Seven said. “Again, I don’t know the situation here. Maybe if you hadn’t separated me from Isis I would have a clue. She is my superior and she knows things. Now, heads up, don’t get yourself killed. Go.”
With a spark in his eyes, Seven transported them using the available tech, and they disappeared in the blink of an eye. Seven turned to his work station and scrolled through data points looking for something.
“Where did you send them?” Lincoln asked.
“A training arena. They will be okay,” Seven said. “Garcia is an expert fighter.” “Is it true, these people are enslaved?” Lincoln said. Seven stopped to meet her eyes. “Yes, Roberta.”
“And, with all of your tech, to see all of time in an instant, to travel instantaneously without ship or worry for your wellbeing, you can’t free these people?” Lincoln asked.
“It doesn’t work like that. Even if it did, no one liberates a people over night with one war to end all wars. True freedom comes when the majority of hearts and minds are on the same page. That takes time. We have been planting the seeds of peace and cooperation and cultivating small changes over time, so when the blossoms of truth arrive, everyone can see, not just a few,” Seven said. “You are witnessing this in your own time in your own world. How long have women struggled for equality? Giving women the right to vote didn’t change all of society’ mind in one instant in all domains. Just saying a person is free from economic and social class division doesn’t mean the social barriers allow for ease of transition. I could push button right now and all the collars would fall off. Ninety nine percent would pick their collars up and return to what they know. Even a speech from Kirk would not change this society from its direction at this particular moment in time. They’re not ready.”
Roberta didn’t have a response. He turned back to the display.
“They would choose to wear their collars?” Lincoln asked. “To continue to fight, even to the death?”
“Imagine for a moment, I gave everyone on Earth all the money they could ever want and no one had to work again, what do you suppose would happen?” Seven asked.
“I don’t know,” Lincoln said. “People like working. If I were free to do whatever, I would travel…”
“How? Would you fly? No pilots. They stayed home. By car? Who would bring you fuel? Who would cater to you when you arrived where you were going?” Seven asked.
“So, we’re still enslaved by an economic system?” Lincoln asked. “We are marginally more free, we don’t have to fight to the death, but we’re still slaves…” “Not by a system. By beliefs, by cultural expectations,” Seven said. “People assign status by access to wealth. How you will treat each other when everyone is equally sovereign is the true test of social and psychological health. That day is coming, but even you aren’t there yet,” Seven said. “That’s just one of the big things people can’t agree how to resolve. Here is a simple thing. What if I told you not policing your trash is killing your planet? What if I told you just stop making straws, plastic bags, six-pack holders, and glitter. Would you do that in order to save your oceans?”
“Glitter is killing the ocean?” Lincoln asked.
“Yes,” Seven said. “By 2020 there will be a floating island of rubbish in the Pacific bigger than Texas. Would you give up straws? Would reduce consumption and packaging?”
“Yes,” Lincoln said.
“Would everyone?” Seven asked.
“We’re rational. If you told them,” Linocln said.
“If God himself told them, they would not stop. People have an expectation, a belief that they should have what they’ve always had. The rain forest in South America will be almost gone before there will be worldwide consensus to preserve it. Preserving it now means paying the people there not to work, not to cut trees, not to have farms, no have make their own wealth. Even if every South American was wealthy, they would continue to cut the forest because they would want to make more. There will be no more fish in the ocean before there is worldwide consensus to preserve ocean life. Half of the 23rd century’s resources will be spent cleaning up the damage this century causes. Some things can’t be undone. Like the loss of dolphins, whales…” Seven made a hand gesture to wait. He audibly sighed, and seemed upset. “We’re in the wrong century. We were sent forwards in time.”
“How did that happen?” Lincoln asked.
“The computer must have determined this is where the problem was- is,” Seven said. He closed his eyes, sorting. “347 and 201 are here. I am missing something. I need to go speak to my agent. I need you to do something for me. Take a message to 347 and 201. Tell him Master Neves sent you and that a Provider is going to buy them. They should cooperate with her. Then stay with them until I catch up with you.”
“Okay,” Lincoln said.
Seven showed her a simple map. “They’re here. I can’t put you in their room, but
I can put you here, just go straight down this corridor, turn right, you’ll see their door. If another thrall or a master thrall asks you, be subservient, respectful, and simply say,
‘master Neves sent me for training with Jon.’ You’ll be okay.”
“Neves is Seven backwards,” Lincoln said. “You’ve been here before.”
“Small changes over time build better futures than drastic, last minute course changes,” Seven said. “Have you ever had a deja-vu experience?” Lincoln nodded. “Then know that someone, somewhere, intervened and there was a slight deviation in the species subconscious trajectories.”
“What happens when you can’t deviate trajectory?” Lincoln asked.
“Species go extinct,” Seven said. “Ready to be transported?”
♫♪►
“You did it!” 201 said, jumping and cheering like a teenage, anime, Japanese cheerleader. Her arms went about his neck and she came up on her toes as she hugged his neck and kissed him. Anyone who had thought they were father-daughter would be seriously reconsidering. Her eyes were bright. Their collars had changed, meaning a provider had taken ownership of them. “With four hours to spare?! Can you do another?”
“Keera, I’m done. I am going to bed,” 347 said.
“I have a side bet that gives us 25 thousand more quatloos for every person you do over the target,” 201 said.
“Keera, is there something you’re not telling me?” 347 said.
“Like?” 201 said.
“Like, maybe, a gambling addiction?” 347 said.
“I am not addicted. I am just really good. And I like collecting currency.
Especially coins,” Keera said. “Besides, if we end up being here long enough, I intend to be a master thrall with some means…”
“We won’t be here forever,” 347 said, then had a thought. “Want to go to Vegas when we get back?”
“Oh, I have a lifetime ban from Vegas,” 201 said. “Really?” 347 asked. “I told you, I am really good,” 347 said.
“I have evidence we’re in the 23rd century,” 347 said. “We could visit Vegas before heading back to the 20th century.”
“I have a lifetime ban from Vegas. Vegas’ lifetime, not mine,” 201 said.
“That’s serious,” 347 said.
“It’s why I am your sidekick,” 201 said.
“You’re more than a sidekick,” 347 assured her.
“Flattery will get you everywhere,” 201 said. “But I don’t count towards betting… Still, I am interested in seeing how my biometrics measure up…” They were interrupted by a Master Thrall, a tall woman… “Cardassian?” 347 asked.
“So, we’re keeping it up with the Kardashians now?” 201 asked.
“No,” 347 said. “How may we help you, Master…”
“Master Seer,” she bowed. “You know of my kind?”
“In a way, yes,” 347 said. “You’re my first in person encounter. I am really curious about your biology…” “I am not here for service…”
“Oh, sorry, I meant, I am curious if you primarily evolved from reptilian based life forms…” 347 struggled to recover, surprisingly embarrassed. He was amazed that even as a professional sexologist, with a history of having been a professional sexual surrogate, and high promsicuity being a huge part of his life, much less his career, he could still be embarrassed during social faux pas.
“If you didn’t come for service, why…” 201 asked.
Her eyes flashed. “Bring him,” she said, in a command voice.
Two females led a man into the room. His hands were shackled behind his back, and he had a lead attached to his collar. He was wearing a Star Fleet uniform. “You don’t have to do this,” he was saying. “I am trying really…” He looked at 347. “Please, don’t kill me.”
“If we wanted you dead, you would be dead. Now, be silent,” Master Seer said. She turned to 347. “This specimen is unique. The Triskelion’s were able to improve their quantum transporters using his designs. That is how we found and recovered you, but we need to improve it further before we can begin mass quantum temporal exchange.”
“What ship is he from?” 201 asked.
“I don’t recognize it,” 347 said.
“I thought you knew everything about Fleet,” 201 argued.
“I know everything about the old Fleet, but not as much about the new Fleet,” 347 said. “It’s hard to keep with all the changes…”
“I am from…” he began. His collar illuminated and he went to his knees. The thralls holding him rolled their eyes, and one said something to the effect of, ‘he will never learn,’ only it sounded as if she had spoken it in French. Both Junior thralls slapped at him as if they were annoyed with him as well. It reminded 347 of the Stanford Prison experiment. He wondered if the archetype for good guy bad guy was just hardwired into all sentient life forms, or part of an over reaching collective unconscious.
“He his human, your kind, only, there are noticeable abnormalities in his genome, suggesting quantum traveling adaptations. We suspect he was immersed in the medium,” Seer said.
“Medium?” 201 said.
“That which binds the entire universe together,” 347 said. “You are familiar with the concept of One?” Seer said.
“Familiar,” 347 reluctantly agreed to.
“Perhaps we can speak again on this in private. As of now, I need you to help me with this thrall. He refuses to participate in the breeding ritual with these females,” Seer said.
“Um, that’s out of my domain,” 347 said.
“You are the love doctor,” Seer said. “You will make him function and retrieve sufficient samples to impregnate these three thralls.”
“No… Wait, who’s calling me the love doctor?” 347 said.
“I kind of dropped your call sign,” 201 said.
“Oh, please, you didn’t,” Harister said.
“If you are not able to retrieve the samples through normal means, we will have to use alternative methods which may permanently damage this creature’s ability to perform, physically or mentally,” Seer said. “The providers do not want this specimen permanently harmed. He may be useful.”
“I’ve tried to explain…” the officer said, and was silenced by pain. “You’re gay,” 347 said. “That’s a problem. I am not gay.” “I do not understand this word,” Seer said.
“Think of it as a medical procedure,” 201 said. “You can do it in that context without it making you gay…”
“Um, no,” 347 said.
“I…” the officer began, and was shocked again.
“Would you stop shocking him?!” 347 said. “Please?” The officer panted a soft thank you.
“Come sit on the bed,” 347 said.
“I am not…”
“Just sit, for god’s sake,” 347 said.
The Officer came and sat on the edge of the circular bed. Two of the female thralls stood to either side, and slightly behind their Master Thrall, Seer. One stood more forward, not letting the leash go. The three were curious. 201 brought a neural device over to place on his temple and he raised his hand in protest.
“You will cooperate with Strangelove’s assistant, or be punished,” Seer said.
“I can’t believe you dropped that,” 347 said.
“Sorry,” 201 said. To the officer, she said: “Sir, this is just a medical device. Kind of like a tricorder, just smaller. It doesn’t hurt. I will need you to leave it on for about a week. To remove it, just tap it four times in rapid succession, and it will just fall off.” He allowed the placement of the device. 201 tried to reassure him with a smile, but his eyes were tracking some of the tools of the trade on shelves and on the walls, and the hanging devices… He swallowed. There were other tells that he was nervous. 347 pulled a stool over and sat in front of him.
“Now, let’s start with your name?” 347 said.
“I am not going to play nice with you,” he said.
“You will cooperate…” Seer began.
“I got this!” 347 said. Then thought about it. He may have the protection of a provider, but he was not a Master Thrall. He turned to face her. “Forgive me for raising my voice. Please. You came to me get him off. Let me talk.” “You can talk him off?” the French sounding one asked.
“Actually,” 201 said.
Chimes indicating betting taking place were heard in the background.
“Just because I am gay doesn’t mean I am promiscuous,” he said.
347 turned back to the man. He nodded in agreement. “That’s true. I am really high on the promiscuous continuum, and extremely open to sensuality, but that doesn’t mean I am gay,” 347 said. “My name is Jon Harister. I am new here. Just trying to survive, utilizing a specialized talent.”
“Enough talk…” Seer said.
347 rotated on a stool. “Would you all step outside, please?”
“We will watch,” Seer said. “We want to learn.”
347 stood, looking about as if seeking cameras he knew were placed but couldn’t find them. “I did what I said I would. I even won a provider. I am asking for a little freedom to expand and explore…”
347 was suddenly out of his frame and in new frame. There was an underground chamber, with a large plate glass window. A quick glimpse outside the window revealed a forest of pedestals with brains. There was passage leading in and out of the room he was in, and three pedestals, each containing three brains. Nine brains visible, all seven primary collars visible shining up through them. Two brains held a non-spectrum light, of gold and one silver. He centered himself amongst them.
“Look, I am cooperating. But you are bringing me new specimens who have not been conditioned or habituated to your program. I get the sense that these new people are going to resist your normal means of reward and punishment, which is good if you want them fighting for their life, but not so good for my alternative revenue scheme,” 347 said.
“Coercion can be extremely titillating,” Red said.
“Yes,” 347 said. “And I can give you that if I find a participant that is interested in playing that, but I will not force anyone to play. I am offering you something other than fight or flight. You have something more meaningful in you, or you wouldn’t have allowed exploration of this revenue stream. I need the flexibility to pursue alternative pathways to this thing I am offering you. I am betting you will be amazed…” Quarrelling began.
“Stop,” 347 said. “Please. Allow me to speak to a higher authority.” The center of each of the pedestals opened, and a singular brain rose from the interior. The dais that held the new brains were larger than the primary three brains, as these new brains were also larger. As they rose, their lights became prominent, and the brains on the lower pedestals dimmed.
“We are listening,” the three said. The voices spoke in harmony, a melodious musical quality to them, and the voices were hyper feminized.
“Female brains are larger than male brains,” 347 said.
“We are female,” they confirmed.
“Don’t you long for something more than fighting?” 347 asked.
“Even in the old days, when we had vehicles like yours, fighting was the primary mode for males to earn the right to mate,” they said.
“But, you have more than males fighting here,” 347 said.
“Females fought to maintain social structure, or to have movement from one class to another,” they explained.
“At some point, you moved past that. You stop physically fighting, stopped using your bodies, and began to live in these communities,” 347 said. “You became more intellectual…”
“No, the games continue internally. The days of adaptation began with augmented reality, and the fighting moved from physical to virtual. If you did not fight, you did not eat,” they explained. “The internal games continue. We train our pets to fight in the real world not just because it amuses us, not just because it reminds us of who we were, but because it reflects the inner structures.”
347 seemed saddened as he tracked a new idea. “Maybe I was wrong about you,” he said. “Maybe this is evidence for species bias on my part. I assumed all species experienced what I have been trying to reawaken in you. Maybe you never had this thing. Maybe you never in your recorded history had a pause where nature and intellect met and there was silent appreciation and gratefulness for being. Maybe you never experienced love. I have been pushing for radical change, and you gave me a chance. I am grateful. If you will allow me a little more freedom, just a little, and some flexibility with the individuals you wish me to serve, I will serve you something you have never experienced before. Better than ice cream. Better than orgasms. Better than the thrill of betting or fighting or all of it combined. This is not something I can just tell you about. You have to experience it; what I am offering takes time to build. Anyone can train to fight. Not everyone can learn to experience what I am asking you to experience. You have a chance, vicariously, through the brains that serve you, to transcend into something ineffable.”