The Illusion of CTRL

Fetch Me Their Souls

All good things must come to an end. It was one of those pesky universal truths that always, ALWAYS, reared its ugly head sooner or later. Uzi had just hoped it would be much, much later.

She had just started to get used to the N she had never seen before. Nathan. Nate. The one who smiled and laughed without reservation, regardless of who was watching. The one who never flinched at physical contact, and in fact welcomed it. The one who was so comfortable in his own casing that he never even considered being anything but himself. No facade, no persona, just him. Just Nate.

Uzi was so focused on him, on walking side-by-side with him and pretending she was part of the mission, that she didn't clock how nervous the human Berets were. Or rather, she didn't think about what it meant. After so many successive successes, they had gotten their swagger back in spades. But in hindsight she would realize how coming to this particular village skeeved them all out. X-Ray's uncharacteristic lack of quips and jokes. Click's exaggerated bravado and too many quips. House's twitchy paranoia. Jazz's tension and anger.

Yes, in hindsight Uzi would wish she had seen these things for what they were: the humans' honed and tested instincts making themselves known. If only so she could have braced herself.

Things had started off so well, as disasters often do. The man they were there to meet, a "Sheikh Kazem", was more open-minded than most right out of the gate. He didn't bat an eye at speaking to a robot, and where others had humored N out of amusement, Kazem seemed to be genuinely curious. That curiosity gave way to fascination as N continued to speak in his dialect and observe the customs of his people.

The only speed bump in the process was the man who sat closest to Kazem on his right. He looked enough like a younger Kazem that Uzi was confident in labeling him the man's son, and he clearly had no love for machines or Americans. So an American machine having the gall to dominate the conversation had him visibly seething.

But when N brought out the baked goods and went straight to Kazem's heart through his stomach, something shifted. The younger man's face became a mask of eerie calm, like something had solidified in his head. Like a choice had been made.

He made eye-contact with the man sitting further away to Kazem's left. Said man's right hand suddenly flew up and smacked the side of his neck, both the sudden movement and the sound drawing every eye to him. Every eye but Uzi's, who stayed fixed on Kazem's son, and thus saw the moment where he used the distraction to give the tiniest of nods to a large, rough-looking man with a large, rough-looking rifle slung over his shoulder. The big guy moved slowly and smoothly toward the entrance, while others all around the room re-positioned themselves with varying degrees of subtlety.

Everyone realized something was happening. Men apparently still loyal to Kazem were visibly confused and nervous. The Berets flicked retention straps and eyed the closest threats. N tried to convince the old man to stretch his legs and take a walk around the village.

But Kazem himself merely smiled and switched topics to some of the younger leaders in the region. He talked about how he had watched many of them grow up as a friend to their fathers, and how disappointed he was that they spent so much of their lives apparently just waiting for those fathers to die so it would be their turn on the throne.

And with his next words, he looked his son directly in the eyes.

"They covet what their fathers have, and don't care about why they have it or how it was attained. They don't see the trust of their people and the responsibility to act in their best interests. All they see is the power to command men and subjugate women. To take what they want in the name of fighting Western aggression. I fear that they and those like them will be the greatest obstacles to your plans. They want this war to continue, regardless of how many lives it takes, how many futures it ruins. Because if there is no war, there is no army to command. No power to misuse. No throne to inherit."