“All in the name of Science”
© Mesmerr
Chapter 6
Andy’s heart was hammering against his ribs, as the policewoman suddenly blinked then looked quickly around herself, at herself, and then around the room, itself. She hadn’t missed him, he knew and she now locked her gaze firmly on him, her brow furrowing a little as she did so. Slowly he exhaled quietly, releasing all of the captive air that had well and truly now passed its use-by date. The policewoman opened her mouth to speak. Her eyes had narrowed. Andy stopped thinking and just acted.
‘Lock and load,’ he said quietly, but firmly, wondering instantly if he should say it again. Then he reminded himself that he could always zap her again and make her forget the lot if she moved one of her hands towards the handcuffs hanging off her right hip belt.
The policewoman again blinked quickly then widened her eyes as she stared hard at him. He wondered what was going through her mind. He was finding it hard to even begin to take another breath right then. God, he needed some fresh air. Slowly, he breathed in, hoping it reached its destination – his head.
The policewoman’s mind seemed to Andy to be racing. Several expressions raced quickly across her face and brows. Her eyes kept darting everywhere, particularly at him. And when they did, they always narrowed. Again, he decided to act, his mind control laser pen at the ever-ready in his left hand lying beside his left thigh.
‘You know you’ve been activated now, don’t you,’ Andy said quietly, but firmly.
‘Yes, Sir,’ the policewoman answered immediately then shut her mouth closed tightly. Her eyebrows once again narrowed at him then flashed wide open with the look on her face that she had just said what she’d said. Her eyebrows of disbelief had shot to the top of her forehead and stayed there.
Andy’s heart rate shot up with the policewoman’s eyebrows. His heart beat was also climbing rapidly, too. He acted again before he had too long to think, knowing now that the policewoman’s mind was going a hundred miles an hour, probably in a hundred different directions, at once.
‘You have been activated for Secret Special Services training now with your secret code and are here, as agreed, for your training to continue. You have been accepted into the Special Secret Services and cannot withdraw unless you are disobedient and court-martialed. Do you agree?’
‘Yes, Sir,’ the policewoman answered immediately then snapped her mouth tightly shut, with a look on her face and her ever-climbing eyebrows as to where the hell her answer had come from. Again her eyes narrowed to mere horizontal slits as she stared hard at him, her fingers on each hand closing and opening continuously.
‘I can see that you feel new to the role, but you applied and were accepted. The Secret Services Special Forces work quickly at everything we do, including experienced and willing enlisted rank and file soldiers, like you. If your first day on the front training line as a proud member of Special Forces is too much for you, you will accept your dishonorable discharge right now for failing in your first activated training mission. Will you fail this mission or not?’
‘No, Sir,’ the rapidly becoming perplexed and distraught policewoman replied, immediately. She now sat leaning very forward in her chair, as if waiting to spring at him and close both her hands around his throat, before she snapped the handcuffs on him.
Andy’s nerves were strung to the limit, in spite of the policewoman looking the same way. Some of her facial expressions were pure bloody murder toward him. He wondered then where his words were coming from, just as the policewoman was obviously screaming inside herself, demanding of someone, anyone, to give an answer to the very same question. He felt he had to keep moving forward and keep her on the left foot. So he did.
‘State you rank,’ Andy said firmly, and a lot more authoritatively.
‘Slave-soldier, Secret Special Services, Sir,’ the policewoman answered immediately.
Andy watched her again go through the facial gymnastics of a person who was about to cut someone’s throat. She kept shaking her head, as if not believing what was coming out of her own mouth. It was working. It was working. He couldn’t believe it but it was. It was.
‘The Secret Special Services induction training program you have already completed successfully is obviously working well,’ Andy said, listening to himself as he spoke. ‘You can’t recall one single thing of your training, except your rank and responsibilities. Can you?’
‘No, Sir,’ the policewoman replied immediately.’
‘Then you are ordered to relax and be at ease, for the moment, while we continue your first training mission. Sit back and relax. That is not a request.’
‘Yes, Sir,’ the policewoman answered right away.
Andy watched as she then leaned backward into the lounge chair, looking from left to right all about her, then refocusing her direct gaze squarely in him.
‘Who am I?’ Andy snapped firmly at her.
‘My Commander, Sir,’ she answered promptly.
‘What am I?’ Andy said next.
‘My Master, Sir,’ she said firmly.
‘Who gives the orders,’ he asked curtly.
‘You do, Sir,’ the policewoman replied immediately, like a good soldier.
‘Who obeys my orders?’ Andy said next, wondering himself, who was actually talking through him, if it wasn’t all of his life’s fantasies rolled into one voice from the never-never.
‘I do, Sir’ she snapped back at him.
‘Whether you like my orders or not?’
‘Yes, Sir,’ she snapped back.
‘Whether you agree with them or not?’ He stated as a fact and not a question.
‘Yes, Sir,’ the policewoman answered immediately, her fingers continuing to curl into fists and then uncurling.
‘You have been given an order already, slave-soldier, to relax and stop thinking about something you are not meant to remember. Do you want to fail and accept your dishonorable discharge right now? It can be arranged as quickly as you have been trained to forget your Secret Special Forces induction training program. Fail or not?’
Andy decided to give the policewoman some cold self-image steel between the third and fourth rib.
‘No, Sir,’ she snapped quickly back, sitting a little more erect in the lounge chair.
‘Then get a grip on yourself, slave-soldier, and the activated service role you are now in. You applied to us. We didn’t recruit you. Accept your own successful acceptance with your own voice now and let your Commander hear it. Your Master wants to hear if his slave-soldier is a failure by her own words. Say it loud and state your acceptance of your honoured role or accept your own humiliation from the dishonorable discharge that will immediately come.’
‘I am a proud slave-soldier, Sir,’ the policewoman said quickly, sitting more upright and erect in the chair. ‘I accept that I can’t for the life of me remember one single thing about my induction, Sir, but I accept it because I’m here listening to my own voice.’
‘Your own voice, what?’
‘My own voice, Sir,’ she snapped back quickly.
‘Your Master and Commander is not forcing you to agree with any obviously truthful statements I am making.’
‘No, Sir. You are not,’ she said quickly, knowing it really was the sound of her own voice that agreed and accepted everything he had said to her.
‘No more questions. Your obedience will be expected to be unconditional and complete, without doubt and without question, and without your thinking mind getting in the road. You are a proud slave-soldier now because you applied for the ranking role. We did not seek you out. You sought us out and knew that your training would immediately follow. You will accept all from this moment onward, without question and without doubt, and keep your questions to yourself, better off to simply dismiss them away. You have more important things to do in your active role.’
‘Yes, Sir.’
‘Don’t think, slave-soldier – act!’ Andy barked at her like a military general. He was actually starting to feel like one, as well as beginning to sound like one.
‘Yes, Sir!’ the policewoman snapped smartly back at him, sitting fully upright and erect in her chair.
Andy glanced quickly between his legs, knowing that the policewoman was not the only living thing in the room that had risen to attention.
‘Good girl, slave-soldier. Your orders are to meet me out of uniform after you have eaten tonight for a night-training mission. Do you have a private car?’
‘Yes, Sir,’ she barked courteously back at him.
‘You will pick me up at the train station at eight thirty and not be late,’ he said to her like a general.
‘Yes, Sir,’ the policewoman spat back at him, traces of anger or something in her voice, Andy noticed.
‘You will sever all ties with any boyfriend you might have. You are now the property of the Secret Special Services. You were fully informed of that fact when you successfully applied.’
‘I don’t have a boyfriend at the moment, Sir,’ the policewoman said smartly. ‘It was only a date.’
‘Make it done, slave-soldier, or I won’t use you. You do not own your life or yourself any more. You are exclusive property of slave-soldier Secret Special Services. I own your life and times, always and in all ways, from this moment onwards. Accept that order! I’ll discharge you dishonorably, personally, because you failed in picking up your Commanding Master on time.’
‘Yes, Sir! Done already, Sir!’
‘Who owns you?’
‘You do, Sir,’ the policewoman answered obediently.
‘What am I to you?’
‘My Commander and Master, Sir,’ she answered.
‘Good girl, slave-soldier,’ Andy said, breathing a sigh of relief. ‘Good girl. Those two words I have just said are your ‘reward’ words for pleasing me very well. Keep pleasing your Commander and Master with your obedience and a promotion up through the ranks is a possibility. Understand?’
‘Yes, Sir,’ the policewoman said quickly, even a little proudly, Andy thought. ‘Thank you, Sir.’
‘When you feel that you services would be better and more often utilised by your Master and Commander, you will request my consideration of a promotion for you to a higher Secret Special Service slave-soldier rank.’
Yes, Sir!’ the policewoman snapped back proudly, although still looking extremely confused and somewhat embarrassed at the turn of events in her call to duty for a vehicular accident in the suburbs.
‘Dismissed!’ Andy then snapped authoritatively
‘Yes, Sir,’ the policewoman snapped back at him, still sitting up stiffly in the lounge chair. Andy smiled inside, noticing that she hadn’t saluted him, but he hadn’t wanted her to and hadn’t even thought of it.
Andy watched as she rose from the lounge chair and let herself out. He saw and heard the door close then relaxed back deeply into the single lounge chair he had been living his all-life-fantasies in doing what he had just done because he had faith in himself that he could, even though he had to be reminded by the two outlaw letters that he could it, in the first place.
Then Andy sighed and shook his head. He had missed his day at the lab. Then he smiled. What we was doing now was all about science, anyway, he concluded proudly, with one hell of an erection now standing fully to attention between his legs, feeling that his actions in the future, from that moment onwards, with anyone or everyone he chose, would always be… in the name of science.