First draft
"So, what do you have in mind for today? Another torture session?" Dia joked, trying to lighten the mood as she hurried after Omen.
"Not exactly." He returned the smile robotically.
His body remained rigidly tense as they walked through the ship's angled corridors. Outwardly, he looked calm, all his movements brisk, efficient, but Dia knew it was just a facade. There was indignation hidden beneath that blue eye, and anger, so much anger.
Apparently, even the mental conditioning had limits and the deaths of thousands of fellow soldiers had pushed him over the edge. They turned around the corner, and Omen slowed down, approaching the door leading to the Sickbay.
Dia halted. "The sickbay? Why here, of all places?" She asked levelly, trying to control the urge to hyperventilate.
Omen shrugged. "Sarah has no patients, so she decided to lend the place to us."
"I bet it." She muttered under her breath. "She's always very accommodating to you."
Omen refused to rise to the bait. "Dia, the Sickbay is safe, far from prying eyes. Besides, we can't continue to use my place without giving rise to...rumors."
Dia's eyes narrowed, boring into his. "Reyes wouldn't take that well, would he?"
"No, he wouldn't." His tone was genial, amused and...bitter. "Besides, you know this can't continue. An unreliable weapon, no matter how powerful, is useless. That's why the first step is to learn how to control your anger." He paused for a few seconds, clearly uncomfortable about what he had to say. "Unfortunately, that's impossible right now."
Dia frowned. "But you said..."
"Dia, it's not that I don't want to teach you." Omen sounded markedly less angry, though his face still looked like a slab of granite. "It's just that we don't have the time right now. Last time you said I was like a shrink, and you're not wrong. The AMC is not that different from psychoanalysis. They both focus on self-exploration and self-understanding."
"Nope, it's a lot weirder than that. Shrinks don't usually poke you with a cattle prod." Dia joked, but her voice was strained. Facing her problems had never been her strong suit.
He gave her an oblique look. "What I'm trying to say is that this kind of thing takes years."
Dia looked crestfallen. "Years?
"Years." Omen repeated, deadpan. "It's a long road, Dia."
Dia stood motionless for several seconds, then cleared her throat. "So what are you suggesting?"
"It's unorthodox and potentially dangerous...but I think we should focus on your abilities. You have to find a way to use them consciously. Since the usual methods are too slow, a more...direct approach is required. "
A lump formed in her throat. "Omen..."
"Corporal." Omen gave her a severe look. "In a few days we'll reach Aegis IV and who knows what kind of trap Gibson has prepared for us. You must be ready."
He was right but his tone was vaguely patronizing and the first slow flickers of anger burned through her anxiety.
"What about Sarah?"
"She is making progress, but she needs time." He admitted. "Besides, the two problems are not related. Sarah can help you with the Spice, but your anger issues are a completely different thing."
Dia leaned back to regard him pensively, and Omen met her scrutiny with a stolid expression.
"Fine." She shook her head resignedly. "What do you have in mind?"
"We'll start with something simple." He spoke in a calm, authoritative tone. "You mentioned you have a couple of noncombat abilities." When Dia nodded, he added, "Let's start from there. Is that okay with you?"
"Depends." Dia gave him a sly look. "Does this training have something to do with cattle prods?"
A very small smile reached his eyes, his dimples making a brief appearance. "No, no cattle prods."
"That's good to hear." She said, relief plain in her voice.
"I want to teach you that you can be in control, no matter the situation." He went on. "That's the first thing I learned when I joined the ISS."
"How did that happen by the way?" She asked, trying to make it as casual as possible.
Omen's face went blank, unreadable like a stone wall. "Why do you ask?"
"I just want to know you better. You basically know everything about me, but I know nothing about you. It's not fair."
A somber look slipped back on his face. "You should know by now that life is rarely fair."
Dia huffed. "At least tell me when you joined the ISS."
Omen cocked an eyebrow at her. "Why are you so curious about the ISS?"
Dia rolled her eyes at him. "Everybody is curious about the ISS, Omen. Besides, you don't look like one of them."
Omen gave her a questioning look. "One of them?"
"You know how they call you." She said quietly. "The Emperor's cleaners. You are not that kind of guy."
Omen bared his teeth in a humorless smile. "Is that so? And what kind of guy am I?" He asked, and there was a wry, almost bitter note in his voice.
"A soldier." She replied without hesitation.
Omen's smile widened, growing more authentic. "Dia, it might surprise you, but most of ISS field agents are former soldiers."
Dia made a frustrated gesture. "I get that, but you seem...different."
He met her gaze levelly for a second, then sighed, maybe realizing he had to give her something. "I can't say much. You know that everything related to the ISS is classified. Let's just say that I had no intention to join it at the start."
"Then, why did..."
"Enough for now." He interrupted, and Dia couldn't quite suppress a growl of frustration.
"You know that you can't avoid answering my questions forever, right?"
"Maybe not." A glint of something floated in his eyes. "But for now," He said, taking out a pair of handcuffs linked to a sixty inches chain, "We have other things to do."
Dia's eyes widened with disbelief tinged with fear. "Wait...do you want to tie me up? Again?"
"Trust me, Dia." He whispered to her, his voice brimming with sincerity. "Nothing bad will happen to you."
Dia scrutinized him. The kind of training Omen had in mind seemed dangerous. Even worse, she wasn't sure she could trust him right now. She weighed her options then gave him a stiff nod, allowing him to put the handcuffs around her wrists. She looked at him warily when he put a plastic cover on the mechanized bed.
He gestured toward it and said, "Now, lie down please."
Ignoring the whimper in her hindbrain, Dia did as she was told. Then she let out a single chocked gasp. The temperature was about 20-degree Celsius, but the plastic covering the bed was cold for some reason, its texture smooth and uniform.
"What do you need this for?" She asked, glancing up at him with some trepidation.
"Don't worry." He said, gazing back at her with an unreadable expression. "It's just an old habit. I don't like to leave traces behind."
It sounded vaguely ominous, but Dia understood what he'd meant.
"You're a clean freak."
"You could say that." He said, his smile only touching his eye.
Dia made a visible effort to gather herself together, wondering if it was a good idea to put her life in his hands at the moment. He looked calm, but he wasn't normal. Not even close. She still was acclimating to the situation when Omen reached in his pocket and, pulling out something, held it toward her. It was a blindfold.
A spark of fear shot through her. "Omen, I don't think this is a good idea."
Omen gazed down at her with a searching expression. "You're afraid of this place."
"I'm not..."
"You don't like being in here." He insisted. "You don't like being helpless."
Dia made an exasperated sound. "No one likes being helpless, Omen."
He met her eyes levelly, and his icy voice was soft, almost gentle. "Agreed. But that's much worse for you, isn't it?"
"If you knew, why did you bring me here?" She finally snapped.
"Exactly because you're afraid of it." He replied immediately. "This is your first lesson. You're never helpless."
Dia pulled her hands back, testing the restraints. They didn't budge.
"This seems pretty helpless to me." She tried to joke, but there was a hint of panic in her voice. Being bound was bad enough, but being bound AND blindfolded was almost too much for her to bear. The fact she was in a medical facility didn't help, either.
"Deep breaths, corporal. Remember, no one will hurt you." He reassured.
Yet, when he finally wrapped the blindfold around her eyes and the world went dark, a wave of nausea went through her. She was on the edge of losing control, her breath coming in gasps, when she heard that noise. It was awfully similar, almost identic, to the sound she'd heard when Rowling and Hendricks drilled a hole into her head.
"Omen!" She said in a strangled voice.
The drill stopped immediately.
"Do you ever heard of the Magnificent Terrance?" Omen asked in a quiet voice.
"Omen, what the hell are you..."
"Probably not." He continued in that calm, almost detached tone. "He died a centuries ago, long before the Empire banned magician shows. Anyway, Terrance was a so-called escape artist. Do you know what that means?"
Dia's composure broke. Tears wet her eyes and her voice turned into a ragged snarl. "Omen, I swear, if you don't free me immediately..."
"As the names suggest," Omen went on as if he hadn't heard her. "an escape artist escapes from handcuffs, straitjackets, cages, barrels, etc. The Magnificent Terrance, in particular, used to bury himself under six feet of soil with his hands cuffed. It requires dedication and nerves of steel to pull a stunt like that."
Dia wasn't listening to him anymore. She went into panic, jerking her arms and legs as she tried to free herself, without success.
"Strength won't help you now, corporal." Omen warned her, his voice steely. "The shackles binding your wrists and ankles are made of Veridium. They are ten times more resistant than the ones I used last time. You can't break them. The only way to free yourself is to pass the test that I have devised."
Dia made a choking sound. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Test?"
"The lock of your handcuffs is voice-controlled." Omen explained. "You require the four-digit access code to unlock them. Listen carefully."
Then she heard it, a slow, sad and tragic song with a soothing melody of piano and violins in the background.
A few moments later the song stopped, and Omen said, "An ultrasonic pitch is embedded in this song."
"The code?" She asked in a marginally more controlled tone.
"That's right. Normal human beings can't hear ultrasonic sounds, but you're not entirely human." He said, his voice as hard and cold as she'd ever heard. "Just like bats, you can hear ultrasonic sounds with frequencies up to 110000 Hertz. You just have to focus."
The music started playing again, but this time there was something more. The drill. It came closer and closer until she could hear it, buzzing in her ears.
"Focus, corporal." Omen ordered. "You can do it."
She gnashed her teeth, trying to focus on her anger. She sensed that She was starting to stir, awakened by her fear, but then that drilling noise got even closer, and only terror was left. Dia could almost see that metal tip twirling at the side of her head. That was too much for her. She teared up, a whimper escaping her lips as fear took over her. She was at the height of despair, her whole body trembling uncontrollably, when she heard it. It was just a weird humming noise at the beginning, but soon the inarticulate sounds turned into numbers.
"F-four...seven...one...two." She forced the words through her trembling lips, and immediately the drill stopped, the handcuffs clicking open as she savagely ripped the blindfold from her eyes.
"Calm down, Dia. I got you." He whispered, his voice gaining a touch of concern.
She saw him leaning toward her and pulled back.
Then she jumped out of bed, her face white with fury "You're out of your mind!"
"You were never in danger, Dia. See?" He lifted his hands, showing them to her.
Dia gave him a sidelong glance. Omen was holding a handheld.
"What is that?"
Then he pushed a button, and her guts tightened when that drilling sound echoed through the silent room.
"Turn it off!" She hissed, covering her ears with her hands as she squeezed her eyes shut.
"Okay, okay, I'll turn it off." Omen said softly. "See? You are not in danger."
She looked up at him warily, fighting to still her rapidly beating heart. Then her eyes widened, and she finally saw the truth. "Y-you tricked me!" She said, shock and anger mixing in her voice.
There was no drill. It was just a ruse.
"As I said, you were never in danger." Omen repeated for the third time.
"But you made me believe I was!" She said bitingly.
There was a nervous pause. Then Omen sighed. "Gibson knows that you're claustrophobic, Dia." He said, his tone reasonable. "Your fear is a tactical weakness he can exploit."
Dia's glare became even more heated. "Really, Omen? Is that your excuse?"
"The only way to overcome fear is to face it." He replied in a tone just as blunt.
Dia took a deep breath, forcing her muscles to unknot. "You should have asked me first, Omen."
"I couldn't." Omen's expression didn't change, but there was an edge of carefully hidden regret behind his eye. "You had to believe the danger was real."
Dia's mouth twisted with a foul, bitter curse. "That's the stupidest thing I ever hear..."
That's when the lab door opened and someone who wasn't supposed to be here, entered.
"Alright, children, that's enough." Sarah said.
"Sarah? You were here?" Dia first looked at Sarah then whipped her head toward Omen. He didn't look surprised. "And you knew it?" Dia asked him in a low, outraged tone.
Sarah looked back and forth between them and heaved a sight.
"I was in the lab." She said. "Don't worry, I had my headphones on. I didn't hear anything."
Dia snorted in disgust.
"Omen, you were wrong this time." Sarah chided. "She was not ready for this."
Frustration twisted his face. "There was no time to ask for permission."
Sarah gave him a reproachful look. "She is not a soldier under your command, Omen. You should have asked her."
Dia raised a brow, watching their interaction with marked curiosity.
Omen zipped his mouth shut. He seemed to consider Sarah's words carefully. Then he gave her a stiff nod. "Maybe you're right. I'm sorry."
"I'm not the injured party here." Sarah gave him a pointed look. "You should say that to her."
Omen gave her a hesitant glance then said, "I'm sorry, Dia."
Dia didn't answer, but the tension in her shoulders eased a little bit. Still, neither of them spoke, and soon the atmosphere turned awkward. The silence stretched, seconds and then minutes went by.
Eventually, Sarah couldn't take it anymore and cleared her throat. "Alright, Omen, get out. I have something to say to Dia."
Omen and Sarah traded a look. Then Omen nodded, shooting one last look at Dia before walking out.
"Don't be mad at him." Sarah said in a careful tone of voice like she was dealing with a dangerous animal. "He means well, but he is not used to caring for someone. Not anymore."
Not anymore?
Dia gave her a sharp look. "Does this have something to do with his family?"
Sarah's gaze became guarded. "I don't know. Omen never talks about it."
"Come on, Sarah," Dia insisted. "you must know something."
Sarah chewed on her lip. "The only thing I know for sure is that they are gone."
"Gone?" Dia repeated. She couldn't quite keep a trace of surprise out of her tone.
Sarah gave her a slow and grim nod.
That's why he didn't want to talk about it. Dia grimaced. For a moment she felt a pang of guilt. Then, however, she remembered what he had done, and that guilt turned into anger. But that does not justify his behavior.
She was still thinking about it when she saw Sarah rummaging through the medicine cabinet. She gave her a questioning glance, and Sarah handed over to her a bottle of pills.
"I didn't want to give you this, but I think it's necessary." She explained. "The search for alternatives to the Spice is slower than expected."
Dia looked at the label on the bottle and asked, "Neoprozac? What is it?"
"An Antidepressant." Sarah answered. "It's fast-acting and should help you keep your anger at bay."
Dia raised a brow. "You said that drugs weren't a solution."
Sarah pursed her narrow lips. "They aren't. This is just a temporary fix, but unlike the Spice, at least I know the side-effects of the Neoprozac."
Dia stared at the doctor, her expression intent. "Then why didn't you give me this before?"
"Excluding the Spice, so far your body showed incredibly adaptability. It's fair to assume it will fight the drug." Sarah folded her arms on her chest. "Simply put, I don't think this will work for long."
Dia groaned. "Great."
Sarah looked at her with sympathy. "I heard that Omen taught you a trick to keep your anger at bay. If that doesn't work, I suggest that you find an outlet to relieve your stress."
"Like what, a hobby?" Dia didn't sound convinced.
"That's not a bad idea, but I was thinking of something more immediate and...pleasurable." She said, drawing the word out.
Dia stared at her in obvious confusion. "Pleasurable?"
"We both know that one of the side effects of the Spice is an increased sex drive." Sarah gave her a meaningful glance.
Dia's mouth fell open. "Don't tell me you're suggesting..."
Sarah shrugged like it wasn't a big deal. "Happy people are not angry people, Dia. I understand that your relationship with Omen and Reyes is complicated, but you have a lot of admirers. Even a woman if what I heard is true." A faint smile played on her lips. "You should take advantage of it."
Then she turned and strode purposefully away. Dia was still gaping, trying to get her head around the fact that her doctor had just suggested her to get laid, when Sarah vanished into the lab.