The Price of Power

[Torri]

To be honest, Torri didn't know what protocol applied here either. Marcus was a civilian and shouldn't have any authority over her. Yet she wasn't so naive as to think powerful people in the CCD government couldn't make demands of her. He didn't press the issue, thankfully.

She couldn't fathom what sort of systemic analysis one could undertake with this power, let alone how external matter might influence it. Resonance? Like sound waves? Her brows furrowed deep in thought.

Then, his true agenda revealed itself. She crossed her arms and studied the imposition of Marcus' presence. This was the sort of man to curl people through his fingers like strings. Even if Torri had a better answer, she wasn't sure if she would reveal it to Sigma Marcus. "We've found no energy or fluctuation to indicate the presence of these forces other than its output. I've found patterns that indicate heightened senses of concentration or stress in a user, however. That is the only pattern I've observed. As to a biological link, well I'm working on it. The Ascendancy receives my regular reports."
She hoped deferring to the Ascendancy would remind him just who it was she answered to, exactly.

"You could provide some useful information. Fluid samples, brain scan, family history, known relatives."
She could take a blood sample right there if he was willing.

[Marcus DuBois]

Marcus couldn't help but smile as her thoughts played across her body. Furrowed brows at his research. Then the shift in her body language as her arms folded defensively, effectively shutting him out even as she gave a non-committal answer. Her request almost seemed a challenge.

His smile broadened. He found himself liking her. A proud fierce one, she was. He remembered her courage in facing Michael. And yet she did walk that line well. She could be very useful.

He stood and took his charcoal jacket off so that he was just in his gray shirt, red tie hanging carelessly down his chest. Still standing, he carefully undid his right sleeve and slowly began rolling it up.

"I would be happy to. You may ask anything you like. In fact, it occurs to me that you have been given a difficult task. You are studying people with access to a power you know little of. No doubt that adds an element of uncertainty and expectation for you."
Her questions- really more demand- to Michael screamed that was the case. If nothing else, it could satisfy any curiosity you may have working down here."


He watched her with a friendly smile as he worked. This was a tentative reach out to a new....ally was too strong a word. A new connection with yet another interesting person. "If that is the case, I am certainly willing to explain or demonstrate any aspect of the power you would like to know that I am able to. But,"
he said pausing, "I would only ask that you consider telling me at least what you find with me, or what you might look for."
He raised one hand. I won't press it. I wouldn't want to compromise you. I know that you report your work to the Ascendancy. But if there turns out to be something you would feel okay with sharing- about my own tests only, of course- then that is all I ask."


His sleeve rolled up, he sat again, laying his arm on her desk, supine, and with slight smile, waited for her response .

[Torri]

She was taken aback by his forthrightness. Nobody acknowledged the sheer impossibility of the task given her, none but the ranting inside her own mind. She broke her gaze from Marcus moments after she intended. Perhaps she jumped to conclusions too soon. He lifted his sleeve and so Torri directed him to a nearby station. Of all the technologies at her disposal and blood was still extracted with the same procedure as it had been for two centuries. She spoke casually while she prepared everything. In her experience the tougher the man the more squeamish around needles they were. So she carried on their conversation as a distraction. She barely knew she did it.

"It seems you propose too good an offer, sir. I will gladly share any information with you that we glean from your study. A small pinch."
It was over in moments. Practiced hands made sure of that.

She stuck her head out the door and flagged one of the passing scientists to whom she passed on the vial. When she turned back, a coy look followed. "Stool and semen samples next?"
She upheld the charade a moment before shaking her head. Maybe it was time to get outside. Apparently she forgot what it was like to socialize with normal people. "Kidding of course. If you come back tomorrow, we can pick up where we left off. You systematically studied this power. I have yet to gain a systematic understanding of its process. Anything you could explain would be appreciated. All Michael tells me is metaphor."

[Marcus DuBois]

From the way she looked at him, it seemed he had guessed correctly. Of course, he knew it wasn't any great deduction to realize the difficult position she was in. Very likely others had too. But for whatever reason, they had not chosen to alleviate it. Curious. But good for him.

After a moment she took him over to a station and expertly and gently began the blood draw, including the obligatory 'pinch'. He barely felt it. For a moment a memory flashed before his mind, a state mandated check up at a doctor's office between placements. He remembered the kindness of the nurse as she tried to distract him from what he feared, the soothing way she looked at him, the smile and "the pinch". He tasted a grape lollipop, of all things. For being good, he remembered.

The experience was like the splash of crimson across a field of white. He'd forgotten it until now. Curious, the little things that slowly shaped and molded you over years, that turned you into the adult you were. Take that experience away, the contrast it had provided to his everyday life, and what did you have? He honestly didn't know. In some ways he didn't want to.

She was done quickly and took the sample to the door and handed it off to someone. She seemed more relaxed. Enough that when she came back she quipped about needing stool and semen samples. He quirked an eyebrow at her for a moment before a small smile appeared on his face. "You don't appear to have the reading material I'd require."
His smile widened even as she made it clear she was kidding, a bit surprised by her impulsive joke, it seemed. Despite seeming a prim and proper professional woman, Marcus was catching glimpses of the attractive relaxed person underneath.

And she was interested in an exchange. Good. That was what he wanted. Connections and information. "Tomorrow I will be at the Consulate most of the day. But I will probably be finished by 4 pm."
He didn't mention the Ascendancy's restriction regarding access to the Facility that he'd imposed on Michael and him. Michael would have live down here to have regular access to his trainees, more than likely. Or else wait for the Ascendancy to let him in. At least until he'd granted the credentials. Until then, Marcus had no interest in doing that.

"Perhaps I can meet you somewhere top-side when I am done. You must have an office or exam room where you can finish up. And where I can answer your questions."
She wanted to take him up on his offer of explanations. That would be....interesting. He'd never explained things before to anyone. Well, there had been Andre, but that was just enough to keep him from killing himself- or from being a threat. But this woman would never be that. He could show her more of what he'd learned. Perhaps she might even help him. Once it had occurred to him, the idea of biology and a connection to the Force seemed....right, somehow.

All of this was important in some way.

[Torri]

Marcus kept an unfortunate schedule. Torri shook her head, trying to figure out a way to make it work. It was against regulation for her to admit a non-authorized visitor to the Facility. Since Marcus didn't offer to return down here, she assumed he didn't hold his own clearance. Until he had his own credentials, the only other way for him to return was in the company of the Ascendancy. Torri did not see that happening soon. Maybe if she asked?

She sat back, arms crossed and thoughtful. If she made use of equipment in any standard hospital then she could transfer the data to the Facility servers for analysis. There were more loopholes to jump through, but there was no guessing when she would have another chance to pin Marcus down. There was one major problem, however.

"I am not credentialed at any of the hospitals in Moscow. I'd have clearance at a field hospital or a military clinical hospital, but I doubt neither of us can make that kind of trip right now. Can you stay? For a couple of hours? I'll gather what I can and then we can meet elsewhere for your demonstration."
She wasn't that tired anyway.

[Marcus DuBois]

Dr. Weston sat back and crossed her arms as if in thought. He sat back down in the chair and watched her impassively. He wasn't worried. He'd gotten her attention. She wanted information. He understood that hunger, that thirst, though of course not for the same reason. For him, it meant hidden power. For her, down here, in this particular assignment, it could mean life- or at least peace of mind. This could work our very well indeed. For him, of course. But for her as well. That did not displease him.

She spoke, explaining the difficulty. ”Ahh...I had not considered that. Of course I can stay. For as long as you need me to. And to answer any questions you may have.”
He looked at her closely. He did not need the enhanced senses of the Force to see that she was tired. But she was dedicated to her work. Mentally he noted that fact. The Ascendancy didn't just inspire fear. Fear made people work hard only when someone was watching. Or for fear of punishment. Somehow, he'd gotten this woman to willingly expend herself in a difficult assignment for more than fear. And if her, then others too.

Vellas was an example. Clearly, there was tension between him and the Ascendancy. Yet he quashed his own evident dislike to take on this assignment. With me as a spoiler of course. He couldn't help the smile that formed on his lips. He loved the machinations of politics. It was far more subtle that military strategies. There was an elegance to it, a deftness, that was like the most sublime of proofs.

And Dr. Weston was a prize to have in his own camp, of that he was sure. For what, he couldn't yet say. Yet. But you never knew. And in the meantime, she was interesting. He smiled at her kindly. ”At least for a little while, anyway. You do deserve your rest.”



Edited by Marcus DuBois, Jan 19 2015, 05:38 PM.

[Torri]

"We can rest when we're dead. Won't have anything else better to do."
Torri's quip was left dry without the type of impish grin for accompaniment. The pending task seemed to surge fresh blood through her veins, because she went right to work. She made a polite gesture to excuse herself from chatting for the time being and concentrated on the work station suddenly springing to life around her. Practiced touch across sensitive electronic-surfaces summoned programs, and quick fingertips tapped out orders on a newly projected keyboard. There was nothing sensitive to be seen, thus no reason to hide the process from Marcus. However, if he were inclined to watch, he would find it mundane preparations. Every once in a while she asked him seemingly strange questions, also. When was the last time he ate? Did he know his DNA signature code? The boring sort of thing.

When finally the preparations were complete, she swiveled to face him once more. His patience was extraordinary. "I apologize for making you wait. If you'll accompany me?"
The Facility was much emptier when they returned to its passageways. All the candidates had been escorted to their rooms and locked safely away. There was no sign of Michael, but that was less of a relief than she anticipated. What was he doing? She could feel the tie of her bun slipping as she walked, but for now simply tucked escaped strands of hair behind her ears. She'd fix it later, probably.

"In here, please."
The room to which she brought him was shelled by white ceramic plaques. In the center was a thin table reminiscent of a standard holo-station and a stool. "Have a seat, please. The room we are in is called a biocollective, a machine built to monitor radio- and electrical activity emanating from the body at millisecond resolution. I'll basically take a video of your nervous system as you complete different tasks."
It was so much more than that, but Torri didn't find the need to divulge further details necessary. This was the room the Ascendancy entered when he revealed the existence of all this madness, but only on the order that the Director dismantle the collection before he entered it. The Ascendancy was extremely private about such things, as he had the right to be. But Torri was glad to finally have a willing, experienced subject on hand to test.

"Follow the prompts on the holoscreen. They're basically mind games designed to elicit the types of responses we can monitor. i would ask that if you get the chance to..."
Torri paused, unable to describe herself, ".. work with .. power? Please do so."
She disliked dropping composure, but someone really needed to assign scientific phrases to what it was these men did. If only to make her life simple.

"I'll be just outside and able to hear and see you. If you need anything, speak it."

[Marcus DuBois]

A quick quip eschewing rest and she seemed to burst into a whirlwind as her finger flew over the screens and monitors. A myriad prompts and menus flashed and disappeared and he couldn't help but smile at her competence. Very impressive.

He sat still, allowing the taps of fingers on keys and screens, the slow breaths of both of them, the subtly noticeable hum of air conditioning machinery and consequent change in pressure to become his world. In the heart of the earth, he could almost feel the pulse, the steady ebb and flow even though he knew, intellectually that even down deep here, they were but on the crust of their world. At the center, spinning its still hot iron core was the true heart, surrounded by the bloody outer core and mantel carrying the inexorable forces that drove the continents and raised mountain ranges.

And in the distance, he felt the Force call to him, the ability to control those forces. No one had any clue what was at his fingertips. Ascendancy very likely did. Maybe Michael. The sheer power that needed only to be seized and manipulated. As subtle as the workings of politics, a nudge here, a slight shove there could produce a storm, level a mountain, or rend a landscape.

He found himself relishing the depth of this place, this cthonthic realm that felt like home.

His reverie was interrupted by her words. He smiled at her and allowed her to take the lead. Despite the artificial cooling, the heat of this place was unavoidable. He followed her, noticing the stray hairs escaping her bun- the small beads of sweat that manifested- and his nostrils flared as if inhaling the scent. This place brought truth to the surface. This woman was formidable, pressing forward despite the fears and uncertainty that she had to feel.

She led him to a room and with a brief explanation and request, sealed him up. He'd never had an exam like this and was curious. He bent his neck until he felt the deep crack on each side. She asked for him to use the Force. Marcus felt a small pang of pity for her. So alien, this world. And yet she was tasked with understanding it.

The tests began, mundane games that began simple and progressed to complex. He seized the Force and felt it flow into him. The dual struggle- controlling the power and answering the questions- was interesting in itself. But he decided to go one step further.

"The power is like a river of fire. It seeks to ravage the man that would control it. It is only with a supreme act of will that one is able to force it. But that control is precarious. It would destroy the inattentive. You will need to watch for that in your subjects."
He smiled, no doubt visible to one of the monitors.

"What the power is, I cannot say. I have my personal theories. I believe that in addition to the three fundamental forces in nature, there is another that is responsive to will. This may play into Heisenberg's uncertainty principle. At the very least, the observer affecting experiments at the quantum level is an established fact for over 150 years. How it works I do not know. But I will say that it is my belief that in some way, this power allows the user to use a resonance with matter and energy and then manipulate it. There is a resonance between matter and the threads we weave. For example,"
he wove a flame of fire.

"This is a simple weave. A single thread of fire that I have created. There are five such types of threads."
He proceeded to demonstrate. "Fire, earth, air, water, and spirit."
For the last, he didn't do anything. "Spirit appears to be unique and is not actually visible. It seems to be...malleable. In my equations it appears spirit and its resonance to materials can be modified, can even be attuned to specific people. I am not sure of that yet, but the suggestion is there."
He shrugged as if no matter.

"In any case, one can combine these threads of the power to create still more complex patterns in exactly the same manner one creates digital circuitry from simple ones. The machines you are using are a testament to what one can make with that. With the power, it is the same. So this, for example,"
he wove a weave he remembered "is a weave that can detect the use of the power. This one-"
he wove again "can allow one to listen in to conversations or to speak to someone in private."


"There are many uses to these weaves. One only has to think of what they would like to do and then figure out how to do it."
He remembered forcing that woman to kill herself. Forcing the aide he first met at the Kremlin to open up. He did not tell her about those uses of the force.

[Torri]

Marcus spilled a hell of a lot of information on her.

She waited in the room adjacent to his, watching the display on a wall-sized projection. Overlaid upon the visual were the stats measured by the biocollector. She moved little except to stretch out one arm and alter the scale of the readings once in a while. The collection monitored so much more than the basic vitals. She had apps on her Wallet that could diagnose an arrhythmia; this was a room-sized machine that probed the electrical activity of every organism inside, from human to microbiological.

Her mind sheared apart the data, looking for something to correlate to what he said he was doing as he did it. This session would be monitored over and over again in the days to come, she was sure. Whether or not anything could be gleaned from it? She'd damn well sure try.

A part of her recognized that she was focused more on the biology in front of her than this wondrous miracle she couldn't see or comprehend. But, stick with what you know, right?

She appeared in the door to his room. "Thank you, Sigma. I have quite enough data to analyze for the rest of my life. It's probably best that we return you to the surface. It's the middle of the night. I hear strange rumours about sleeping, or such nonsense, during this part of the day."


Her mouth ghosted the hint of a smile.

[Marcus DuBois]

His words passed the time for him. Aside from the two more complex weaves, the things he was doing were simple, basic. She would need that, would need to know what she was seeing. She was a scientist. The 'recording of his nervous system,' as she termed it, would be analyzed again and again against what was happening. His description of what he was doing at each point was a purposeful gift. It might help her find the biological analog of this power and its use in the machinery of his body. A Rosetta stone, so to speak. And learning that, in itself, was worth the amount of time this was taking.

He wasn't sure what time it was when she came back into the room. He would admit that he was quite tired. It had been a long day and using the Force on top of that took something out of you, physically. Another clue that there was a connection. His little assignment to work with Michael had turned out the potential for great fruitage for himself.

He smiled at her jest. She was professional in every way, the image she presented to the world. And yet the informal woman underneath seemed to peek her head out from time to time.

He stood slowly and cracked his neck on either side, not taking his eyes off her, a small smile on his face. "Sleep. Yes, I have heard of it. I should try it, I think."
He slid his jacket on. "Perhaps you should too."
He paused, thinking, deciding. "I had not expected to enjoy coming down here. Obviously. But I am glad I did."
He widened his smile at her. "Glad to have made your acquaintance."
A pause.

"My offer still stands, you know. I know I gave you a lot of information today."
A slight laugh. "And I'm sure that most of it meant very little to you at the moment. No context, you see. It's all theoretical information for you. But I think that as you work with the data you've gathered, as well as with the other....patients, the context to understand will come. And for that, I am at your disposal."


He pulled a pen and a small pad of paper from his pocket and quickly scribbled his number on it. By way of explanation, "No wallet, so this will have to be old school. I do hope you will call and let me know what you find. Or for that chat we talked about."
He handed it to her with a genuine smile and then offered her the pen and pad in turn.

When it was time to go he offered her his hand. She really was quite lovely, not in spite of but because of the wisps of hair that had escaped her bun and had been quickly tucked behind her ear. He had the measure of her. Very impressive. And he had always been drawn to strength. He looked down at her. "It was truly a pleasure, Dr. Weston."