She was masturbating on the floor of the slavequarters, surrounded by pieces of splintered wood. It took her even longer to put the pieces together this time, fitting them around the idea that there were triggers were in Mistress Iliana’s pro, pro, pro - in the programming in the ‘Iliana’ file. It was nearly impossible. But she finally managed, and then broke down and cried. It was all true. The complex was in unimaginable danger. Mistress Iliana was in unimaginable danger. She was the only one who knew, the only one who could stop it. She couldn’t handle the responsibility.

It was lunch time. Sarahslave let the routine of her life take over, too exhausted to think any more. She washed and washed her face, staring into the washroom mirror until no trace of her crying jag was left, and put on an unimpeachable smile - can’t let the sleepers know you’re on to them. She turned off the terminal, kicked the biggest pieces of broken wood under the desk, pulled the other chair out from under the doorknob, and walked down to the dining area.

The dining area looked a bit like a cafe. There was a second one inside, but it was a nice warm fall day today so everyone was eating outside. Sarahslave’s unaccustomed cleanup tasks had left her very late, later even than Mistress Iliana (who, of course, arrived whenever she pleased). There was food - garden salad and tuna sandwiches, today - set at each place, and the others were already eating. As usual, the only seat left was at a little table with Security-Captain Lucyslave. Sarahslave suddenly wondered if Lucyslave did that deliberately.

“Hey, Sarahslave,” called Lucyslave through a mouthful of salad, waving her over with a guileless smile. That meant nothing. The smile Sarahslave returned was just as open and cheery.

“So I bet you’re busy,” said Sarahslave, as she sat down. “Getting all the fresh intake deprogrammed and accepting of their new roles as Mistress Iliana’s property.” There was no chance she could make someone as devoted to protecting the complex as Lucyslave forget her job, but maybe if she kept control of the conversation the whole way through she could run off at the end of lunch and look only a little completely suspicious. It had been several weeks since Lucyslave had been in the Chair; like Sarahslave, she worked best when she was alert and intelligent and serving Mistress Iliana out of her own facsimile of free will. Sarahslave was going to have to work hard for this.

“Eh,” demurred Lucyslave. “It’s funny. Nobody actually liked Duquesne that much. She was one fucking crazy cast-iron bitch. I mean, everybody was Chaired like whoa but the schedule was apparently once per week, just to keep ‘em all on the straight and narrow. Once per fucking week per slave! No wonder she had so few, if she had to be running her Chair round the clock just to keep them all compliant. Christ.”

“More flies with honey than with vinegar.”

“Exactly. Hell, the hardest part is just convincing the poor bastards that I mean what I’m saying about Mistress Iliana’s wonderful control. They’ve all been ‘oh, being a slave means being degraded, having your will broken and being forced to pretend you love it,’ all that bullshit. But Elle is almost ready to volunteer herself for the Chair, I think, and once that’s done Elleslave will be much better than me at helping her compatriots understand how superior Mistress Iliana is. Then the rest of them should open up pretty fast after that.”

“Happy new slaves for Mistress Iliana,” said Sarahslave, raising her water glass. 

“Happy new slaves for Mistress Iliana,” agreed the security-captain. They clinked their glasses together.

“Well, almost all of them,” said Lucyslave a while later, after finishing off her own sandwich and giving Sarahslave a minute to catch up. Most of the other slaves were already leaving for the afternoon’s tasks.

“Almost all?” Sarahslave was confused. Everyone had to serve Mistress Iliana, that was the problem she was suffering so much trying to solve. Lucyslave knew that as well as anyone else.

“Yeah. Oh, you will not believe what we found.” Sarahslave couldn’t imagine. “‘Qi-Pan’ turned out to really be a Canadian.”

“You found a hive sleeper?”

“Yup!” Lucyslave was grinning at her own talent. “There just to keep a watch on Duquesne, I imagine, not to try anything, not on her own. But a complete sleeper. She’s down in solitary now, of course. Canadians are the worst to try and figure out. We’ll probably just leave her down there until everyone else is done, so I can put someone to work on her full-time.”

“That poor woman,” mumbled Sarahslave.

“Eh, hive knows where it’s at. She honestly thinks she’s happy being an automata. That’s why they’re always so tough to break.” Lucyslave shrugged again. “Mistress Iliana is better, we’ll help her figure that out sooner or later. But I’ve got no worries for her. Not like the poor fucks who really were Duquesne’s. Plus,” she added, suddenly lunging across the table and grabbing both of Sarahslave’s wrists - “even just one round of interrogation gave me some new counter-hive stuff to check out.”

“You can’t think I -”

“Didn’t get where I am by making assumptions. Sleeper Node Oh Three Nine Pee Zed Activate.”

Sarahslave stared at the security-captain. Nothing happened.

“Worth a shot. And I’m glad you’re not a sleeper.” She let go of Sarahslave’s wrists. “That said, my job is never-ending. Sarah spot check three nineteen.”

Sarahslave’s gut twisted in horror, this was it, this was it. Her jaw dropped open slackly. She would tell her everything now, she would have no choice.

“Why were you late for lunch?” asked Lucyslave, almost conversationally. There was no one else around to put a show of nonchalance on for, but she still didn’t seem too concerned with the answer.

“I was reading something on my computer. I became distraught and had to hide it before I came to lunch.”

“Distraught?” asked the security-captain, quirking an eyebrow. “What the hell were you reading?”

With Lucyslave in control, her mouth had no trouble telling the horrible, filthy lies her mind could barely touch. “Mistress Iliana’s programming.” 

“What.” Lucyslave’s knuckles were white on the edge of the table, all of a sudden.

“Mistress Iliana has been subverted. I must deprogram her. Give her back the control she deserves.”

Lucyslave was staring at her, her mouth open. “I have no idea what the fuck someone is trying to pull, but this is so not cool on every level. Your ass is going in detention and we’re going to pull you apart piece by fucking piece until we find out who did this to you and how. No one is fucking touching Mistress Iliana on my watch,” she said, her voice rising to a snarl.

The security-captain didn’t believe her. Thought she was a spy trying to get control of Mistress Iliana. The security-captain’s own fervent loyalty was going to doom her beloved owner. Sarahslave couldn’t allow that. There was only one way out and it was awful but she was in so deep it barely mattered now. “Lucy,” she croaked, her programming grappling with itself. “Open red blue green.”

The furious expression on Lucyslave’s face disappeared. The two stared at each other across the table, alone in the empty dining area. It was hard to speak, only her fear for her owner had let her get this far, but she had to make Lucyslave let her go. She couldn’t tell what was happening behind Lucyslave’s glassy eyes: maybe she was fighting hard to protect Mistress Iliana just as Sarahslave was, maybe she was so empty she couldn’t even think. It didn’t matter. Sarahslave had to act while she still had the chance. “You will… release me from… the spot check. You will… not stop me… from leaving. You will not… tell anyone… what… I… said…” she was wrecking the complex, she was a danger to herself and others, she had to stop “...for eight hours.” A relieved breath. “Then you should warn Mistress Iliana. Lucy close green blue red.” 

“Sarah spot check three nineteen complete,” said Lucyslave, promptly, and then opened her mouth, said nothing, and stared at Sarahslave, horror in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” cried Sarahslave, on the verge of actual tears again. “I love Mistress Iliana. I love you. I would never if it weren’t - I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” She grabbed Lucyslave’s hand, squeezed it. “I need to protect Mistress Iliana.”

She stood up. Lucyslave stood up too, but didn’t move towards her. The kitchen domestics were already cleaning up the tables across the way, had politely left the two of them alone for their conversation, but that wouldn’t last forever. She had to leave now. She had to be out of the whole complex, her beloved home, within eight hours. Everything was crumbling around her. 

I have to protect Mistress Iliana, she thought. She hung onto the thought. It was the only thing that kept her going. If she left maybe she could still find a way to undo this, out there.

She had to believe that. It was all she had left.