Willing Slave, Unwilling Master Ch. 10

"Ah, thank you Lucy," Mr. X says, smiling broadly at the girl. There is no ambiguity in his look of obvious affection.

With a smile the slave places the tray on the windowsill in front of us, a tiny frown crossing her face as she looks down at Rose, replaced with a look of gleeful surprise as Mr. X pulls her onto his lap where she nuzzles his neck; apparently that particular display of affection isn't unique to Rose.

"I considered simply executing you, Mr. Fallow," Mr. X says in the same tone one might use to comment on the weather, "but I believe we share some common views when it comes to the Lower Vil."

I nod slowly, not sure exactly how to respond. Every time he speaks, he adds yet more questions to my rapidly growing list. What is wrong with Rose? How has she been genetically engineered and to what end? And an endless number more, all of them sitting atop the biggest question of all, how do I get myself, and Rose, out of this?

He adds nothing further, and despite wanting to demand answers from him I take a moment to gather my thoughts in the silence. I hadn't actually taken much time to consider what being arrested might be like, not like that this, that's for sure.

"You know, Mr. Fallow- Dan, can I call you Dan? The Lower Vil really are quite amazing creatures, yet they are so very often completely overlooked," he says suddenly.

"Err, no one really thinks much about slaves, I guess," I say, stumbling over my words as I hasten to reply.

"It was less their demeanour and more their biology I was observing. Did you know that Lower Vil do not have what we would understand as a blood group? They are both universal donors and receivers. You could mix up a bag of human and Vil blood, pump it into your slave and her body would accept it quite readily. The same goes for blood she donates; both ourselves and the Vil would be able to use it with no noticeable ill effects."

"Really? I'm surprised people haven't started harvesting them for blood, if it's so useful," I say dryly.

"Oh they would, were it not for the treaty," he exhales softly, "The Lower Vil do not suffer from organ rejection syndrome, they are more adaptable than any species we have ever encountered. They share a name with the Vil, but they are by a measure of magnitude genetically superior."

I shrug, not sure how I feel about basing superiority on genetics, I've always believed morals were a better way to judge someone. "Why are you telling me this?" I ask, turning my gaze back to the window.

"Because in order to understand why your slave needs to have her lungs replaced, you need to understand exactly what she is."

"Fine, what is she?" I say, trying not to show my frustration. Whatever the reason is that Rose and I have been brought here for, I doubt it's altruistic.

"A prototype."

"For what?" I ask, looking down at Rose, trying to spot something I hadn't noticed before.

He seems to think for a moment, gently wrapping a strand of Lucy's platinum hair around his finger. "Towards the second half of the war it was realised that soldiers aging out of service was a serious problem. You see, while those men and women who might have nearly seventy years of experience as a pilot or engineer were perfectly willing to continue fighting, their bodies were not. And so it was decided that research should be undertaken in the relatively new field of genetic engineering to determine if the aging process could be slowed or even stopped."

"You don't mean..." I look at him, knowing my mouth is gaping but unable to shut it.

"That the project was a complete disaster? Of course. As it turns out cell death and regrowth are not things you should mess with, at least, on anything other than a superficial level. So the project was shut down, the only evidence of its existence a filing cabinet in the capital Hub's archives and a pile of corpses."

"Sweet stars, and they've done this to Rose?"

"Yes, from the small amount of time we have had to study her it seems the most likely explanation. The Lower Vil are certainly adaptable enough to deal with a majority of the alterations. Our best guess is that a human was genetically modified with an inactive form of the gene therapy, and then bred with a Lower Vil female. Who then went on to have a litter of children and..." he gestures to Rose, who suddenly looks even more like she is trapped in the lab of a madman.

"So, she's what? Immortal?" I ask, not daring to believe my own words.

"Does she look immortal?" Mr. X scoffs, "No, though she and her sisters can handle the alterations better than any human ever could, they are hardly healthy. Before you acquired her, she would have been on a regiment of tailor-made medication to try and bring her body into something resembling synchronicity; we suspect, the residual effects of a lifetime of medication are what gave her these last few weeks of relatively good health."

"Unfortunately for her, the effects are only cosmetic; she will still grow old, she just won't look it," he finishes, looking down at Rose with a thoughtful expression.

"Wait, wait, wait," I say, scolding myself for trusting him so quickly. "If she's been engineered not to age why isn't she stuck as a baby?"

He shrugs, "We don't know anything for sure, as I said we have only had a few hours to study her. Much of what we know comes from hundred year old research notes, but the plan was always for the subject to develop normally up until the effects kicked in. We think that's what going to happen to Rose, once she can bear children in a year or so she will stop aging altogether."

"But why even bother with the cost, not to mention the risk of an illegal beauty treatment for a slave?

"You really can't see why a compound would want to sell a slave that never ages? It's like a car that never rusts, imagine how much you could charge for that?"

"But this is ridiculous!" I say, sitting up a little straighter. "If you know all of this why have you arrested me? Why aren't you moving against the compound?"

"The compound is jointly owned by Humans and Vil," he replies, as if explaining everything.

"So?"

"Even the accusation of wrongdoing would be too much of a threat to the treaty; it's not a line we are willing to cross. No, what we need is for the situation to come to the attention of the joint Human-Vil inspection team naturally."

"And how do you propose to do that?" I ask, feeling like I am being led around in circles.

"Why, by getting one of our people in on the inside to make sure things go the way we want on inspection day."

"And you want that person to be me?" I venture, with a sinking feeling of dread.

His burst of laughter is so sudden it causes the slave in his lap to jump. "You? Sweet stars, no. You couldn't even be trusted to run away with your slave in a reasonable amount of time, we had to get your parents involved," he shakes his head, still laughing. "I mean, an enforcer spoke to you directly and you still didn't get the hint. It really was something to watch."

"So, if you don't want me to spy for you, what do you want?" I say in irritation.

"We want you to help convince your slave that temporarily returning to her compound on our behalf is the correct choice," he says simply, looking down at Rose with a half-smile.

"You can't make her go back to the compound," I say outraged, "Do you have any idea how she was treated by those people?"

"I'm well aware of how slaves are treated at compounds, Mr. Fallow," he replies coldly, stroking his slave's hair. "However, this is a unique problem and as such we have been forced into finding a unique solution. We ask only for your support."

"A few minutes ago you were telling me that Rose was no longer my concern and dropping thinly veiled threats of execution. Now all of a sudden you want my help?"

"As I said, we have a unique problem; you are an opportunity that has presented itself. I would have thought you would be glad not to be executed; most people are," he shrugs.

I grind my teeth in frustration. "You're acting like you're going to give her a choice," I reply bitterly.

"That's exactly what I'm going to do," he says, "As I said, we share some common views when it comes to the Lower Vil."

I stare at him, trying to detect some hint of honesty or otherwise, but his expression reveals nothing. His whole plan is insane; Rose isn't a spy or a secret agent, she is an abuse victim who is being asked to return to her abuser to reveal something she doesn't even know about herself. And yet, if I'm not mistaken, this crazy plan is the only reason I'm still alive.

"Fine," I say at last. "But if Rose refuses, I will stand by her."

"I would be disappointed if you didn't," Mr. X smiles. "Now, before you leave us, I trust I don't need to tell you that no-one, not even your family can know that you came to this facility, or what we have discussed today?"

"Leave?" I say, flabbergasted. "I'm not leaving, Rose needs me!"

"Mr. Fallow, your slave is currently unconscious and will be for the next few days at least. Should you stay here, you will not only be bored, you will raise suspicions. I trust, you intended to return home at some point?"

"Yes," I say, through gritted teeth, trying very hard to remind myself that this man can kill me with a word should he wish. Even so, it's hard not to have another crack at his stupid smug face.

"Well then, no time like the present!" he says with a smirk. "I'll be seeing you in a few days, Mr. Fallow. Do try and stay out of trouble."

My strange interviewer gestures to one of the armed henchmen. "Make sure, Mr. Fallow is reunited with his wonderful motor car. We wouldn't want him returning home empty handed, now would we."

There is no telling the expression of the black-visored guard, but I assume from the way he yanks me roughly to my feet, he isn't my biggest fan. Gripping my upper arm hard enough to bruise he leads me towards the door.

"Oh and Mr. Fallow?" Mr. X says, not looking up from his slave girl. "We believe the compound may be looking for their slave, using their own methods. It goes without saying, that regardless of your slave's choice, should you compromise this mission, you will never see your little Rosie again." He pauses to let that sink in. "Have a safe trip."

And just like that, I am pushed into the hallway, being led away with a final image of Rose burned into my mind. Stars, I hope I will get to see her again.

I didn't think I would be leaving this place alive, but now that I am, I can't help but feel bittersweet, because a part of me is still locked up here.