G f willmetts, p.1
G. F. Willmetts, page 1
short fiction: TAMING MISS OBERON
a Psi-Kicks story by: GF WILLMETTS
Night flights gave way to deep thoughts, Cameron McKensie decided. They went hand in hand, mostly because so few people used them for anything else. No restless kids. No irritating adults. Nothing else to do if you couldn’t sleep. The tourists who travelled in them were returning home, still under local time having had one last celebration, were exhausted and slept. No in-flight movies. Well, at least, not until morning. Everyone, but the flight staff, asleep at 25,000 feet gave plenty of time for contemplation of recent events.
Beside him, curled in a ball, in her seat, was the object of his thoughts: Kataya Oberon. Whether she was really asleep wasn’t something he wanted to try prodding her to find out. That could still be regarded as a dangerous to one’s health by anyone in the know. Just over week ago, she was little more than a subject of a report and his assignment…
Reports never gave everything, Cameron McKensie decided, as he arrived at the Stable’s regional headquarters. They were too impersonal with everyone covering up some small or major fact that might put themselves in a poor light. For security, a lot of pertinent info was omitted or encoded anyway.
With the impunity offered to the Psionics, they tended to be the most honest of all. They had nothing to lose. Human Baselines and Blanks needed to either look good or hide the mess they made. It looked as though this time it was one of his own, the Blank, Maxine Caruthers, who had over-stepped the line and was hiding a mess by her silence on the matter. The best excuse was her still being on the critical list.
After that other Blank’s death, hadn’t it dawned on the silly bitch that she had to be cautious when dealing with Psionics. Her abrasive manner probably hadn’t helped. Just because the Fey were not mentally adept Psionics, didn’t make her the exception. Acquiring physical attributes didn’t make them any smarter or emotionally better than a Baseline. They were still prone to any regular temperament problems.
Combine that with acquired physical animal attributes and they could practically be called ‘super-human’.
You simply didn’t put yourself in a situation where you had a direct confrontation with a Fey. Caruthers had got that message the hard way.
Out of habit, McKensie looked at the Compound map on the main desk as the PA pointed out his own quarters. Like all regional headquarters, they were masked as a regular military base with a series of offices, quarters and floorspace. This site had some minor modifications made to accommodate their resident Fey, chiefly as a chain of hidden complex training areas.
A large section of the factory space had been converted into a series of gymnasiums and one Olympic-size swimming pool as well. The staff here must have thought they’d gone to heaven when it was installed as any facility the Fey wasn’t using could be shared by them. Officially, it was declared a military exercise area and a platoon was occasionally brought in to complete the image.
The PA, Elaine Forster, was the model of efficiency. She waited quietly until she was spoken to. Many of the Stable staff were recruited from the Forces, with few knowing the true nature of their work other than it was an Intelligence department. Admin was Admin the world over. They didn’t need to know what they were administrating or guarding, just turn over the paperwork as instructed. Move up through the ranks and you get shifted to an out-station. For the Stable Consultancy, that was where the real action and busier Psionics were based.
As far as most staff here were aware, they housed specially trained agents. The one difference was them not knowing how ‘special’. The code-names meant little to them. They were a means to conceal not to reveal. It was better not to know much in an eyes-only situation. Forster fitted the pattern. Ex-Wren. She knew the score, as far as her job was concerned. A tallish thin tight-lipped brunette who probably only smiled off duty. Wouldn’t be long before she was reassigned and moved deeper into the picture.
‘Where is the Fey at the moment?’ McKensie finally asked.
‘Combat One, Sir’, the PA replied. ‘She gives herself a very hectic exercise schedule.’
‘Do you like her?’
‘Permission to speak candidly, Sir?’
‘Please. I won’t learn anything without it.’
‘Miss Oberon is a bit of a man-eater, Sir. We’d been expecting a row between her and your predecessor for some time now.’
‘Hardly over a man, That’s hardly answering my question. How do you get on with her?’
‘I’m glad my boy-friend is not within fifty miles of this base, Sir. Miss Oberon is a Manx. She draws the men like flies and drops them as fast. Hasn’t been good for Base discipline.’
‘This doesn’t stop you working with her professionally, Lieutenant Forster?’
‘We rarely see her professionally either, Sir’, Forster admitted, ‘other than arranging exercise schedules.
Making sure the equipment is still usable. Your predecessor handled any problems. Miss Oberon’s not stand-offish. Always say hello. Polite in an odd sort of way, but no long social chats. Uses some foreign language occasionally. Lacks discipline for someone who appears so physical. Refuses to take part in any group games…we’ve finally got a hockey league running. Offered an olive branch to get her to join a team. Begged off joining.’
‘But she doesn’t mix? Probably a woman thing. Not everyone’s a team player, Lieutenant. What about meals?’
‘Eats mostly alone, except when her grandfather is here. I watched once. They eat on the floor. He has nearly the same effect on the women. The cooks are concerned about health and hygiene over the amount of raw meat requested…by both of them.’
‘Keep them in line. The Fey have particular dietary habits. Beyond that is either mine or a Bureaucratic problem. Remind them they’re under orders. As to men. She promised the Board months ago not to chase anyone on Base. The invited platoons haven’t been approached? You’re to let me know if she breaks this promise and I’ll worry about it. I take it you haven’t placed yourself in a situation to form an opinion either way?’
‘Not my place to have an opinion other than professionally, Sir’, Forster replied curtly, ‘She can raise the heckles on most of the women here when she chooses and has men equally dreamy eyed just walking past. I deemed the latter the biggest danger and schedule the men away from her as much as possible.
She might not chase them, but they still have a crush on her. The women don’t have to be told to keep their distance.’
‘Fine. You’re doing a good job, Lieutenant. See my bags are sent to my quarters. I’m off to visit Combat One.’
o O o
One thing that could be said about Stable Compounds, even without resident Psionics, Cameron McKensie decided, was that they were always damn spacious. Contrary to military belief all the open flat shrubland made it very difficult to hide intruders. Electronic traps recorded everything else. Psionics noted the presence of anyone but Blanks. The Fey was on par with them so it appeared, even without any apparent mental abilities.
Most of the classified combat arenas were excavations with the soil used to raise the ground level. With an automated net system they could be covered to conceal them from satellite detection at night or unused. Not that that would stop rival Psionics from scanning if they knew where to look. The Fey were a unique breed and as far as the Stable knew, they had the only super-human in active service in the world.
Now where did he come from?
A man had suddenly appeared not 50 metres away from McKensie. His portable detector tied into the security net system hadn’t bleeped. As far as he was aware, there were no Psionics with the ability to teleport, or as they often called it ‘skip’. There was one other possibility. He kept walking towards the man. If the stranger was as fast as this in his dotage, running away would not serve any purpose.
The stranger was wearing an open large overcoat and appeared to be lightly dressed under it, despite the chilly damp weather. A wide-rimmed hat did much to conceal the rest of his features. They didn’t conceal an impressive length of grey-brown sideburns. Medium height. The walk was effortless and quiet. Even a Stealth Psionic would admire the poise. The stranger could probably walk across a room of soggy tissue paper and not leave a ripple.
‘Are you the Blank?’ The stranger asked. The voice was curt but without any underlying threat. An accent that was hard to place. The wrong answer and he’d probably keep on walking than attack.
‘Are you Fey?’ McKensie asked.
‘I’m glad you didn’t say, “Are you a Fey?” It’s extremely embarrassing these days to be asked if I’m a fairy…and then say yes.’
McKensie extended his hand, ‘Cameron McKensie. You must be Rex Oberon. I read the Full Moon report. You had a very eventful war, Sir. A pleasure to meet you.’
Rex Oberon grasped McKensie’s hand and shook it firmly. There was a hidden strength in his grip. The back of his hand had enough hair to make Robin Williams look plucked. Oberon smiled widely presenting an obvious pair of sharp fangs before laughing. Pale, almost white, eyes glinted from under the hat.
‘I’m retired now. You have good composure. Caruthers was a little spooked the first time she met me.’
‘Understandably. It’s not every day you meet a legendary wolfman. I’d have thought baselining with a wolf would have worn off by now, Sir?’
‘Legacy of my DNA your medics told me. Exposed for too long. Suggested I take on another animal to neutralise the effect, but I’ve become rather fond of this appearance over the years.
‘I take it you’re here because of the report?’
‘No, son. I’m here to see my grand-daughter. At my time of life, one has a different set of priorities.’
They both continued in the direction that McKensie had started out towards. A small out-house that accessed a lower observatory bunker facing into Combat One.
‘Has your grand-daughter given any reason for her behaviour that put Caruthers in hospital?’ McKensie probed, ‘Part of my job is to make sure it doesn’t happen again. It would be easier if I knew informally so not to step on her toes.’
‘It shouldn’t happen with you, son’, Oberon smiled again, but not showing his fangs this time, ‘She likes men.’
‘That, Sir, as far as I understand, is part of the problem. Men also like her.’
The out-house was a simple design. The men entered after McKensie used his passcard to permit access. A few sparse pieces of furniture and a TV set. It wasn’t designed to be anything more than that.
McKensie entered a code into the TV remote to open the bunker access lift. The majority of the Stable staff here were not permitted to see the Fey working out. Most of them weren’t aware that the key operatives were even Psionics, just very special agents.
From what McKensie remembered from the maps, the bunker carried a surveillance equipment, medics lab, a shower and changing room. No expense was spared in this area. The Fey was entitled to the best to ensure that she was kept at peak performance.
Wordlessly, they let the elevator take them down the three floors to the bunker. The monitors were buzzing with images. The main windows faced out into Combat One. Lights were arranged to allow it to be lit were really shining upwards to give a day appearance. A city street obstacle course was the set-up.
No sign of the Fey. Part of the practice was ensuring she was not seen unless she wanted to be seen. The exercises focused primarily on exposing her position.
On the table were the remains of a meal, looked like raw meat, and a knapsack. A small kitchen was half-hidden in an alcove. One of her early coaches had suggested the Fey watch the tapes of her own performance as a means to self-improvement. There had been no objections but ever since she had avoided the cameras, even in combat. Even the tracking cameras couldn’t get a line on her.
Was she that good? Or was she demonstrating her obvious superiority?
Oberon went to the small refrigerator and pulled a can of beer. ‘You thirsty, son?’
‘Wha..?! No, Mr. Oberon’, McKensie turned from the bay windows, ‘I’m surprised there was any beer in the camp.’
‘Kataya arranged it for me. Very considerate girl. Always thinks of the finer details and of her grandfather.’
‘Right. How do I see her perform?’
Oberon came to the window and slurped some more beer as he looked around. ‘Turn the cameras off.’
‘You can’t see her either then?’
‘I didn’t say that. She’s just camera shy. Avoids being filmed but promised to let you see her…briefly.
Kataya got fed up having to slow down to be photographed while performing.’
Performing? Slowed down?
‘And she left them on?’ he asked.
‘Probably for your benefit. This is a performance. Turn them off. She’ll know the difference.’
McKensie flicked the buttons systematically turning the cameras off and then the over-ride for the bunker lights to be off to improve outside contrast. The darkened room made Combat One’s street lights seem brighter as McKensie’s eyes adjusted.
Down the far end, McKensie could just make out a small figure. She hadn’t been there a moment ago.
Appeared just like her grandfather.
Oberon reached under the bench and handed the Blank a pair of binoculars. By the time he looked again, the figure was gone. Or rather she had moved forward and was bounding up the side of the building. McKensie found difficulty keeping up with her speed. The Fey barely paused jumping across the buildings, zig-zagging across the streets.
‘I thought this was a combat zone…?’
Machine gun fire echoed from one of the buildings. The Fey spun in the air and landed in a tree. Using one of the branches she spun up and smashed through a window and seconds later a torn dummy came through the open window where the machine gun fire had fired.
‘Blanks?’
‘No challenge. Real conditions. Live ammunition’, Oberon was watching the scene intently absorbed.
‘She’s letting herself be shot at for your benefit. You should benefit from seeing her in action. She’s been asking for the combat stakes to be taken up more. This is far too easy for her.’
The Fey was out on the roof and leaped for the tree a second time to get across the street. In mid-air, the tree exploded and the Fey was left grasping air as she was flung back the way she came. A perfect somersault had her back through the window and moments later out through another window and climbing up onto the roof.
‘Real bombs, too’, added Oberon. ‘The street is littered with them so she’s been avoiding the street. No sense destroying the road for the sake of it. Puts the site out of use for too long.’
‘All of this isn’t from her tiger baseline? A tiger couldn’t do a fraction of this.’
‘Your Stable chose the tiger for its strength and savagery. Her agility and speed owes more to the domestic and feral cats in the Compound’, Oberon explained. ‘She is not pure animal but a synthesis of human and animal physiques, getting the combined advantages of both. A tiger would be afraid of fire.
Kataya would make a more intelligent judgement to avoid or run through it.’
‘I’ve lost her again’, confessed McKensie.
‘Follow schedule, gorgio. Was only supposed to take out a machine-gun loaded sniper’, a husky voice said from behind. ‘This practice. In outside world, wouldn’t been seen or shot. Hello, Grandfather balormengro.’
‘Hello, Kataya romani chi matchka.’ Oberon turned to face his grand-daughter. ‘You looked off-peak.’
‘Keeping in sight slowed me a little. Agree though. Due for zoo visit. All arranged, gorgio?’
McKensie observed the Fey’s reflection in the window before turning. The Fey stood at 5 feet 6. Short wavy haired but fluffed up with orange and black streaks. Elfin. Even had the pointed ears of a pixie. Not even out of breath. Her face had a mischievous look with a hint of hostility. Labelling them Fey was not a bad judgement. There was certainly an element of faery about them. An odd sort of beauty that tended to make you stare waiting to see what she wanted. Shouldn’t have that kind of effect on a Blank. Her accent was odd to place like her Grandfather’s. English but hard to place the origin but certainly not unpleasant.
The broken English a puzzle considering how well her Grandfather spoke.
‘I’ve only been on site less than an hour. I thought the zoo trips were all a pre-arranged schedule? I’m…’
‘McKensie. The new Blank here to review future with the Stable. Plan to stop zoo trip, gorgio?’
‘No.. I…want to make sure everything goes to plan. What time are you scheduled to visit the zoo, Miss Oberon?’
‘Seven tonight. Time to eat before. You eat with us, gorgio?’
‘Is that a request or an order? You seem to be dictating the pace, Miss Oberon.’
The Fey smiled, ‘You ‘fraid of me, gorgio? ‘Fraid like Caruthers?’
No veiled threat. It was on record that she was a capable killer. She was testing boundaries.
‘That we’ll have to discuss. Upstairs would rather you settled your differences with staff in a more verbal manner.’
‘I only scratched her.’
‘Medical says you nearly disembowelled her.’
‘Fhuh! She didn’t back away. The cow lunged at me with a combat knife. Her fault, gorgio. Only defended self.’
There was no apology in her manner. The plea was self-defence. How well did she control this killer instinct?
‘A misjudgement’, McKensie said, realising he was inviting an angry response. ‘We can discuss ways to avoid such problems later…’
‘When my Grandfather isn’t around, gorgio?’ Kataya turned to the wolfman. ‘I think the gorgio is intimidated, Grandfather.’
