Jerane was something of a mine of information as well. The killing had all but stopped, except for the major offenses you’d expect. Rape, however, was no longer a crime if the woman was unaccompanied by a man. The bodies were being taken down and buried; the economy was starting to improve again, and the rules were no longer being changed every day. The invaders were settling in, marrying local women, and actually helping in the clean-up and spruce-up work that had to be done. People knew who was what now, and they were memorizing posted chains of command.
On the dark side, all education for women had ceased. Block captains, who were local residents and not invaders—she used the term “liberators”—checked daily to see that each dwelling and work place, inside and out, was cared for. They were quite strict, and the wives of workers at various places were brought in as a team to clean and polish everything there as well. For those women who just couldn’t be “re-educated” properly, there was, in addition to the lash, a new device worn like a necklace. Patrolmen all had little boxes that could activate them. If you were close to them, say no more than two meters, they would deliver an agonizingly painful shock that would do no real damage. It had done wonders, she said.
Yes, virtually everyone she knew now accepted the system. It was dangerous to voice any negative comments, since anyone could turn you in for extra ration coupons, but negative comments were fewer and fewer these days. Jerane had been an inventory clerk on the farm, but was now a housewife and part-time cleaner for the administration building, and she was trying desperately to get pregnant. Suzl asked her whether she missed her job and career and was told, “It is no longer relevant to my life or future. I no longer have any real pressure, and I have the time and the duty to have children. For a while I resented it, but accepting it and living it is just so much
It was always easier not to think but to obey, Suzl thought glumly. At first she’d been repulsed by the woman’s meek acceptance, but then she’d thought of her own life. Kicked as a slave into Flux by the Paring Rite, she hadn’t even tried to resist. She’d lucked into freedom on Cass’s coattails, but it was an illusory freedom. As a dugger with no Flux power, she’d done nothing but take orders and compromise all those years. Ravi seemed the ultimate compromise, considering what he wanted from her for protecting her.
Of course, she’d kidded herself that it was nothing personal; there were two kinds of people in Flux, those with the power and those without, and she’d been one of the “withouts” through no choice of her own. Now she had Flux power, but no real knowledge of how to use it, and here she was in Anchor, a woman in a society that decreed that women were the ones “without.” She seemed destined to always be in the right place on the wrong side.
Sooner or later there
The interrogator, who identified himself as Captain Weiz, was a young, handsome man with striking blond hair and beard. She walked into the interrogation room wiggling, not waddling, and he smiled, got up, and offered her a chair.
“We need to know the answers to some questions,” he told her. “Are you willing to cooperate?”
“As much as I can, sir,” she responded.
He nodded, liking having his ideology reinforced. “Now, you came in from Flux. We know that. Did you exit through the temple?”
She nodded. There was no use denying it now. “Yes, sir. There was a one-time condition that was induced to let us pass.”
“How many people emerged?”
She considered that but knew that hesitation was loss. “Three. Myself, Spirit, and Cass.” None of them had ever seen Matson, and there was a slight chance they didn’t know about him. It was a chance worth taking.
Weiz nodded. “This ‘Cass’ is also known as Sister Kasdi?”
She nodded again. “Yes, sir. But we grew up together and I never could think of her any other way except as Cass.”
“I see. And what was your objective?”
“Several, sir. First, if possible, we were to destroy whatever or whoever was maintaining the shield in any one spot and create an opening. Second, we were to get out and report on conditions here. Finally, if the opportunity arose, we were to find and kill Coydt van Haaz.”
Weiz seemed pleased with the answers. “You are the same Suzl who was once a somewhat male dugger in Flux?”
She nodded. “Yes, sir. It was a curse that finally got lifted.”
“You prefer being female, then?”
Loaded question in this rulebook! “Yes, sir, I do. That’s why, when it was finally learned how to dissolve the curse, I opted for my current form.”
“And what would you wish for your future life?”
Another loaded one! The fellow was good at his job. “Sir, I would be lying if I didn’t say I would rather return to Flux.”
“And if that was impossible?”
“Then I would accept life here, sir. I’m a survivor. I had no power in Flux, so I went by others’ rules. This is no different. I would only like to be near enough to Spirit to see her regularly. We are very close.”
“Spirit was claimed by her legal father this morning, as is his right. He has been promoted to Chief Riding Mechanic in Trobovar, near the east gate, and they left immediately. Would it shock you to know that her parents are the ones who told us about you?”
“I kind of figured that out, sir.”
“They don’t
She nodded, herself finding the logic easy and seductive. She wondered, though, what they would do with the excess population—or was that the Fluxlords’ payment? They went through lives like water and had lost their endless supply with the ending of the Paring Rite. Their power had been weakening from slow attrition. It made sense.
For the next few days she underwent “re-education” and it was no fun at all. Again, the methods were simple but seductive. They would have you do things, memorize things, then surprise you with all sorts of unexpected situations. If you hesitated, gave the wrong answer, or didn’t do it exactly right, you got a shock from the little collar. In an amazingly short time, you found it much easier to go along with it and found your mind concentrating only on what you were expected to do or say in any given circumstance. She knew that if it went on for too long, even a few weeks, she would be doing it so automatically that it would be impossible to resist. She’d seen the technique in Flux, but never thought it could be applied to Anchor.
The sessions were long and punctuated by uneven breaks. Food and sleep periods did not come with any regularity, and it was quickly easy to lose all track of time. She knew they were giving her hormones or something in her food; she felt constantly turned on, and her breasts gave milk, and she was ready for anything, man or woman. Hopes for rescue faded with time, and thinking of Spirit and the baby only made it worse.
She was awakened and told to “prepare herself,” and so she washed, got herself done up right, and dressed, then reported to the main office. She was no longer even surprised at herself for ogling men and checking out their asses. She’d always swung both ways, depending on the person, and would always have hopes of eventually reuniting with Spirit, but she was always the practical survivor, too, always adaptable to whatever conditions came along.
She was surprised to see Captain Weiz waiting.
She approached him and stood silently, waiting for him to speak.
“You’ve made excellent progress, Suzlette,” he told her. They insisted on full names, and she’d decided it made sense to use it for this new personality to keep confusion down, although she’d never used it before.
“Thank you, sir,” she responded.
