Rebel Spirit

"Isn't it just wonderful?" Lionstone sighed like a lovesick schoolgirl. "Truly, a technological marvel. I'll always be grateful to the very, very bright young lady who invented it for me. It was almost a shame, to make her its first conquest. But I couldn't have her letting slip any secrets."

Zaya's lips trembled in disgust and fury as she struggled to form words.

"I won't bore you with all the technical details," Lionstone drawled. "You wouldn't understand anyway. But suffice it to say: even your iron will can't beat simple neuroscience. The brain runs on electrical signals. I'm sure even you know that much. Well, what would happen, do you think, if it was possible to override those electrical signals?" Lionstone's grin took on a particularly twisted quality. "Why I'd be able to make your annoying little rebel brain dance to any tune I pleased!"

Zaya spat in her face.

Even that small, insignificant gesture of defiance took an almost unimaginable amount of effort, but it was worth it to see Lionstone's smirk curdle into a petulant scowl. She was shaking as she wiped Zaya's spittle from her previously immaculate face. Zaya managed to muster up the focus to offer her a shit-eating grin.

"Told... you," the rebel leader grunted. "Never... break... me."

"We'll see about that," Lionstone snapped. "We're only just getting started."

She tapped the control device on her wrist, and Zaya's plight got much, much worse.

This time, as she saw white and as her back arched painfully, the rebel screamed. She hated to give Lionstone the satisfaction, but there was no helping it. She was no longer in control of her muscles. They all seized up at once as the bolt of energy coursing through her doubled in intensity, making her twitch and convulse and force all the air out of her lungs in a cry of distress. Now, she could feel it crackling through her whole body, and she realized that the strange suit they'd forced on her had also come to life. The whole thing was thrumming with a powerful current, tiny little sensors, electrodes and motors mounted hidden within beginning to calibrate themselves so they could distribute the electrical signals from the device on her forehead all over her body.

The worst part was, it didn't hurt. Not exactly. The feeling of violation and invasion was monstrous, but it didn't hurt. Not after the initial burst of energy, like the sharp shock of a static charge. After that, it settled down to a constant sensation of warmth that made her tingle and had her muscles melting helplessly, like she was being given a massage after three days of hard marching. Even the discomfort of her constant, irregular twitching faded. All in all, Zaya had never felt anything quite like it. It was as if something was reaching into her chest and trying to rip her soul out of her body, and her newfound sense of separation between those parts of herself was making her light-headed and weak. Her efforts to speak, to protest, resulted in nothing more than a thin trail of drool leaking from one of the corners of her mouth. She was truly helpless.

It might have been pleasant, in a warm, soporific way, if not for the sensation of Lionstone's propaganda being driven hard into her mind like a jagged, frozen icicle.

With Zaya's mind broken open like a wound by the vile device embedded in her forehead, the world around her was rushing in to fill the void. And the world around her was all spirals and whispers and proud, glorious images of Lionstone's face. With her focus and stalwart resolve ripped from her, Zaya was unable to keep her guard up against the onslaught, unable to shield herself with memories, and unable even to focus her gaze on the few stationary points in the room so that she could keep her balance. Now, she could feel the maelstrom of sickening images bleeding into her mind.

She could feel their pull.

"There," Lionstone said, the corners of her lips once again curling up to form that familiar, vicious smile. "Not so cocky now, are you?"

Zaya gasped.

Lionstone was different. No, Zaya quickly corrected herself. She wasn't. She just seemed different. But the effect was potent. Lionstone seemed bigger, somehow. It was hard for Zaya to be sure, with the room warping and spiraling around her, but the latex-clad tyrant suddenly appeared to tower over everyone else. Her voice was suddenly filled with a kind of gravitas, and the cruelty of her words sent a fearful shiver down Zaya's spine. That, in turn, scared her. She'd never been afraid of Lionstone before, not once in her life. But now, when Zaya looked at her, she felt small. Insignificant. The energy current forcing its way through her brain foisted an image on her: an image of Lionstone standing on a balcony, looking down at a baying mass of cheering, adoring followers.

In Zaya's mind's eye, Lionstone now seemed more like an evil goddess than a petty dictator.

"Y-you!" Zaya spat, forcing her shaking tongue to form words. "W-what... what are you... doing t-to me?"

Lionstone giggled, delighted. "I did warn you," she said offhandedly. "Your brain is just neurons and electrical signals, Zaya. If you know how to manipulate them, you can do, well, anything you want. Memories, feelings, beliefs. It's all malleable."

Zaya groaned. She could feel the truth of what Lionstone was saying. It wasn't a bluff. Her mind-control device was working. Lionstone's horrifying slogans were beating at the inside of her mind like a drum.

Glory and service.

Glory and service.

Glory and service.

She knew she had to fight it. She knew she had to resist. But how? How did you resist something that was already inside your head? Even framing that question in her mind was monstrously hard. Her whole body was bristling with heat, nerves and muscles betraying her as her mind succumbed to Lionstone's conditioning. The images spiraling on the walls felt more and more true. They felt like a part of her. Lionstone's armies. Her palaces. There was something glorious about them. Zaya couldn't not feel that. She simply couldn't. It had been written into her.

But, Zaya realized, there had to be a limit. There had to be. People were more than just Lionstone's playthings. That arrogance had always been her greatest weakness. As much as the tyrant could mess with her, she couldn't take away the things she treasured the most: the bonds she shared with her comrades. They were coming for her. They always came for their own. They never left anyone behind. That was enough. Knowing that was enough. She was Zaya of the rebellion. She wouldn't let that go.

"This..." Mustering the focus to speak was painful, but Zaya did it anywhere, pure spite giving her the strength. "This is... a farce. This... doesn't... work! I'll... never... ever... let you break me!"

Zaya meant it, with every fiber of her being.

She was hoping to see dismay on Lionstone's face. Instead, the dictator sighed theatrically. "That's what they all say. Fortunately, I know just the thing to prove otherwise."

Lionstone snapped her fingers, and beckoned one of her guards to her side. The silent, faceless guard obeyed at once.

"Remove your helmet," Lionstone instructed.

The guard saluted, and reached up to unseal the black, featureless, dome-like faceplate of her helm. As she lifted it off over her head, Zaya's heart died in her chest.

"Fareeha..." she breathed.

As much as Zaya wished she didn't, she recognized the woman under that helmet. She would have known that face anywhere. The two of them had fought together a hundred times or more. Fareeha had saved her life just as many times as any other rebel under her command. They had laughed together, shed tears together, shared memories together. Zaya had wept bitterly when Fareeha had gone missing in a failed sabotage op several months before. They'd searched everywhere for her, raiding dozens of Regime bases, but in the end they'd been forced to conclude she'd either been killed or shipped out to an off-world prison colony.

But here she was, in the flesh.

With one of those glowing, purple control devices on her forehead.

"F-Fareeha!" Zaya begged. "It's me... it's me! Zaya! C'mon, you know me!"

Fareeha's face didn't so much as twitch. Her eyes were glassy and empty, and betrayed no hint of recognition.

"Guard," Lionstone purred. She spoke slowly, savoring the moment. "What are you? Tell the prisoner."

In a ghastly motion, Fareeha pounded her chest with her fist in a salute. "I am a humble servant in the service of Domina Lionstone, honored to have a place in her personal retinue," Fareeha chanted. Her voice was stone. "Glory and service in her name!"

For the first time, Zaya was truly lost for words. She couldn't believe this. She literally could not believe the evidence of her eyes. She didn't want to hear any of this. She didn't want to hear the fervor and loyalty in Fareeha's voice. It was like a nightmare.

"N-no," Zaya whispered. "This isn't... this isn't real. This can't be. This..."

"Oh?" Lionstone's smile was wider than ever, like she was feeding on Zaya's despair. "You want more proof?" She turned to Fareeha. "Guard! Command word: layer blue."

Fareeha blinked, and as the emotionless slab of her face melted a little, kernels of treasonous hope began to sprout in Zaya's heart.

"Huh?" Fareeha said blearily. "I... oh!" She noticed Zaya and rushed to her side, kneeling. "Zaya? You're here?"

Despite the mind-warping energy still coursing through her, Zaya was able to breathe a sigh of relief. This was the Fareeha she knew. Her personality had been restored. It shone through in every little thing about the way she spoke and the way she moved. This was her comrade - even with that sinister, mind-warping thing still attached to her.

"'Fraid so," Zaya replied bitterly. "They got me, Fareeha."

"Ah," Fareeha said oddly. "I'm sorry about how this feels. But don't be afraid. It'll be OK, I promise."

Something about the way she said that made all the warning hairs on the back of Zaya's neck stand rigid. "What does that mean?" she asked, guardedly.

Like a nightmarish, twisted sun emerging from the clouds, Fareeha's face warped into a radiant smile. "Soon you'll be just like me," she explained. "Soon you'll know just how wonderful it is to serve Domina Lionstone."

Zaya could have wept. "B-but... but..." she spluttered. "You hate her! You revile everything she stands for!"

"I did, once," Fareeha conceded. "I was so misguided. But now I understand. She knows best for us all, Zaya."

"Fareeha," Lionstone interjected, holding out her hand like one of the queens of old. "Kiss me."

"Yes, Domina," Fareeha replied at once. She hurried over to kneel at Lionstone's feet, and kissed her hand.

The look of absolute loyalty and satisfaction on her face was what broke Zaya.

"You see?" Lionstone gloated. She walked right over to Zaya, bending over and putting her face close to the rebel's. It was clear she knew she had no fight left in her. "I told you. I told you I'd win."

Zaya said nothing. She felt numb.

"And do you want to know the worst part?" the tyrant continued. "All this? Unnecessary. All I really needed to do was let that thing burrow into your brain for a few days. I didn't need to be here. She didn't need to be here. But I wanted you to know."

The sheer weight of Lionstone's cruelty and malice was crushing. Zaya still couldn't tell if the woman was a goddess or a devil, but either way, she was something much, much greater than human. Something irresistible.

"Besides," Lionstone added perkily, straightening. "Breaking your will the old-fashioned way does have the benefit of speeding things along somewhat. And judging from the look on your face, you're ready for the last little push."

She started adjusting the control unit on her wrist.

"Don't worry, I'm not all bad," she said with a wink, as she pressed the button. "You'll enjoy it, in the end. I promise."

In an instant, Zaya's mind was blank. She lost everything - memories, thoughts. Even her own name. She felt like a computer being rebooted. After a few seconds, it all started to come back to her, though, and when she mustered the strength to look up at Lionstone's face, everything made sense again.

At first, she just froze, gripped by awe. She was in the presence of Domina Lionstone. Images and false memories of the Domina's speeches from months and years past flashed through her head. What was she meant to do in the presence of such greatness? It was almost overpowering. She no longer felt the energy coursing through her body, or thought about the device attached to her forehead. How could she think about anything but the words pounding through her head? It was an insistent, irresistible mantra that would define her new existence.

Glory and service to Domina Lionstone.

"How do you feel, Zaya?" Domina Lionstone asked.

Zaya let out a small, breathy sigh. It felt like a blessing that the Domina knew her name. But almost right away, she snapped out of her stupor and rose to her feet. This was no time for girlish fawning. Zaya, the former rebel, snapped to attention, and clasped her fist to her chest in a salute as if she'd been doing it for her entire life.

"Ready to serve, Domina Lionstone."

***

"I once rebelled, just like many of you. I thought I knew best. But now I see the truth. There's only one person who's fit to lead the people. She truly knows best for us all. So I urge you to heed her words, and place yourself at her disposal, in the name of creating a brighter future for us all. Glory and service to Domina Lionstone!"

As she watched her own performance on the holoscreen, Zaya felt nothing but pride. Her Domina had asked her to make a public speech, to be broadcast again and again as propaganda, and she had done so. How could she feel anything except the sweet satisfaction that came with obedience? It was a privilege to be able to serve Domina Lionstone. Zaya might have wondered how many rebels had been demoralized and swayed from their cause by her words, but it wasn't her role to wonder. Just to obey.

Domina Lionstone's mind-control device was still on her forehead. She wore it at all times, except when in public view. Wearing it or not made little difference - its conditioning had already buried deep into her memories and personality - but the Domina liked to make sure her guards were always perfectly brainwashed. Zaya agreed with her about that. She should be perfectly brainwashed. She no longer had the capacity to disagree with Domina Lionstone about anything. She regarded her mistress as perfect, and loyalty to her meant more than anything. Anything at all. Her pride as a rebel, her horror at Domina Lionstone's cruelty, her bonds with her comrades - all of those had been smoothed away to nothing.

Only loyalty was left.

"Zaya?" Domina Lionstone drawled, reclined on her bed, surrounded by her other guards. "Come to bed. You know you're my favorite."

"Yes, Domina."

Without a second thought, Zaya started to strip herself of the tight-fitting bodysuit the Domina had all her guards wear, exposing her taut, muscular body.

She knew exactly how best to serve her mistress.