Free Endgame by Ann Aguirre Page B

varying levels.
    Oh, there are various truth-serum drugs, but most of them have side effects, and they leave the person hostile once the effects wear off. With this device, by the time we’re finished, this centurion will think we’re his best friends. He’ll believeanything we tell him—anything at all—to keep the pleasure coming. And that’s why I called it insidious. When Constance concludes this session, she will have added a loyal foot soldier to the La’heng Liberation Army. In theory. This is experimental tech, so we’ll see how well it works.
    The first jolt startles a sensuous moan out of the prisoner. His eyes go glassy, his mouth slack—too intimate an expression to see on a stranger’s face. She’ll continue the treatment until he’s utterly seduced and ready to tell us anything at all. I leave Constance to it because she doesn’t need my supervision. She’s willing to do whatever it takes, so long as Nicuan forces occupy La’heng. I will not pity them.
    Vel accompanies me back to my quarters. The space I’ve been allotted is small and sparsely decorated in shades of gray; it’s all one room, with a bunk, a comm terminal, and a sitting area comprised of a small sofa and one chair. It’s been a long night, the first of many. He settles on the couch and invites me to join him with a flourish of his talon.
    Many would find this scene oddly domestic, especially the easy way I curl up beside him to better view his handheld. We’re close enough to touch, but I don’t. Sometimes even I’m not sure where the boundaries between us lie.
    He’s captured several images of the man he will replace. Later, he can spend more time in the centurion’s company, memorizing the angles and lines, to reproduce them perfectly. For now, the pictures will get the process started. The guard is nearly two meters tall, with dark hair, gray eyes, and a weathered complexion. He has squint and frown lines, more than those that come from laughter.
    “Will you have any trouble?”
    Vel glances at me. “No.”
    “I’ve never understood how it works.”
    Skin is one thing, but hair has a different texture. I’ve seen him become someone else, but watching it doesn’t help me understand. Once, I’d have felt unable to pry, worrying that he’d take it the wrong way. Now I understand there’s nothing I can’t ask of him.
    “The human body creates different types of matter,” he says. “Usually with the intent of cleaning or eliminating waste.”
    I nod. I’m with him so far.
    “What I do functions on a similar principle…I simply have better control over what form it takes.”
    “So you command it, like on a cellular level.” That’s pretty damn cool.
    “Essentially, yes.”
    “Wow. No wonder Ithtorians think humans are savages.”
    “We have had longer to evolve,” Vel says modestly.
    “What do you think of the target?”
    He considers. “He is a serious soul.”
    Or he used to be, before Constance got ahold of him.
    Everything she does, she does at my behest. She’s still my PA, no matter how sophisticated she’s become. When I first reactivated her, after the time she spent locked in Dina’s data chip, I asked if she was sure she wanted to return to human form. She’d seemed content as a ghost in the machine—first on the ship, then on Emry Station. I’d worried I was being selfish by wanting her back in my life in a more tangible way; maybe she was happy manipulating those vast data streams, and it would be wrong of me to make her go back to a limited life.
    She replied, “Now that I’ve known both, I prefer being a person, where I can interact in a more meaningful manner.”
    And here we are.
    “On a scale of one to ten, how much hope do we have of pulling this off?”
    “Negative two,” Vel replies. But his mandible quirks, telling me he’s joking.
    “I’m not kidding.”
    “What do you mean by ‘this’? The infiltration or the war effort in entirety?”
    “Both.”
    He gives the