Apologies to those who reviewed for the lack of personalised responses. Your reviews mean a lot to me, but RL has happened rather relentlessly recently and it was as much as I could do to get this out!

--Chapter Nine--

452 glared at the young soldier through the grille. Her scared eyes instantly vanished, leaving behind faint thoughts and images of the punishments dealt out for insubordination. Indeed when the cell doors opened and the soldiers led out to breakfast, 394 in attendance this morning, she was on her best behaviour, she didn't put even a foot out of line and her eyes never drifted from the vacant forward stare propagated throughout Manticore.

Nevertheless, 452 could still hear the voices as faint background noise in her mind, becoming more disjointed and unintelligible. By the time the small group of soldiers reached the mess hall the noise was more of a dull hum than a crowd of people.

394 waited with the guard outside the mess hall after he had dismissed everyone else, and was led in several seconds later to the serving hatch where she collected a tray of food and then to a small desk in the corner, big enough for one, where she sat facing the wall and picking at her breakfast. The guard stood next to her, not looking at her but staring aimlessly at the other transgenics in the hall. This was a rather fruitless task as all the transgenics had learnt at a very young age that joviality of any sort was entirely unacceptable. The guard was staring at five hundred children, aged between five and twenty, all of whom were eating in silence and not even making eye contact with anyone else in the room.

Little did that guard (or any other in the room for that matter) realise though that the 2IC of the entire base, 452, was struggling with an inner question. Who exactly was Max? Was he someone she'd met on one of her missions? They had had names. Had she killed him? And what about this Jondy, who or what was a Jondy? Any why was Zack going to take care of it? These words seemed familiar yet their meanings were unattainable, like they were in a language that she had forgotten how to speak. But that was impossible; there were no languages that she wasn't at least literate in. And none of them mix the syntax, grammar and basic vocabulary of English with words such as 'Jondy'.

These thoughts plagued 452 for quite a few months. Her body and half of her brain went about its daily routine, whilst the other half was almost constantly pondering the question so innocently posed by 392. The young soldier had thrown some more thoughts 452's way since then, but they were all disconnected and vague. Something about ice, lots of ice. And teeth, what on Earth did teeth have anything to do with… well… anything? 452 seemed almost insulted that her mind was letting her down when it came to this particular puzzle; she had never come across anything she couldn't solve before. A half of her wanted to just leave and accept it as something that had no meaning, but part of her relied on pride and a desire for completeness, and she seemed unable to let it lie. She'd still run through what was expected of her, and had even gone on four deep cover missions. At least, she thought, this obscure obsession isn't affecting my performance, my life. There wasn't anyone on the base, except for 394, who had noticed any kind of a change in 452.

394 did notice that 452 had become slightly different. She no longer seemed to have the harsh look in her eyes when she caught 394 looking at her through the grille. In fact, she seemed to look deep into 394's eyes, as if she were searching for answers there. 394 herself also went through some changes in the following months. She turned two years old, and then two and a half. She grew several inches but didn't really put on weight; a proportion of her puppy fat had disappeared. She was much more stable on her feet and her vocabulary had increased tenfold, at least as far as 452 could tell from the voices that she projected. Interestingly, 452 had never heard her speak aloud; it wasn't clear whether she even could. But regardless of these developmental leaps 394 still looked like a child. Of course she does, 452 would chastise herself gently, she looks like a child because she is less than three years old. It is a strange place in which one so young is viewed as a soldier instead of a toddler.

The next big leap that Max would recognise when looking back at her second time in Manticore occurred on August 19th, 2019. The night before she had returned from her trip to Psy-Ops relatively unfazed but extremely tired, and had fallen into a dark and disturbing dream almost as soon as the lights went out, knowing she'd never remember it in the morning. 394 had slid out of bed, awoken by something she had heard from the cell next door, and stood at the grille. Her eyes were focused on the sleeping form of 452 but she was listening hard, although to anyone else in the vicinity there was nothing to be heard. She remained in that position for several hours before crawling back to her own bunk and slipping underneath the covers, smiling.

When 452 woke up on the morning of August 19th 394 was already awake and looking at her, a sense of excitement in her eyes. This mild act of disrespect had become frequent enough that 452 was no longer bothered by it, it was not military behaviour but it seemed to cause no harm and, to be honest, it was comforting sometimes to realise that you weren't alone, even if your only constant companion was a genetically-engineered toddler who could speak without opening her mouth. Although in reality 394 generally had very little control over what she projected, there had been clear moments in which she had spoken of Max, of Jondy and Zack, of ice, and, admittedly, also of teeth. But then there were other moments when 452 had been subjected to crowd noises for endless hours, to the rattle of automatic weapons, and also to silence, which had surprisingly become the most eerie of all.

Except for one thing. A few days after 394 had been moved into solitary cell block D the voices she projected descended into the screams of small children. It had taken several months for 452 to realise the significance of this, but soon 394 started accompanying these cries with pictures. They flashed like a slide-show, other young soldiers, holding their heads, kicking the guards, being heartlessly tasered and kicked aside, and then, one by one, being lifted onto a medical gurney and injected with a clear liquid. Their limbs no longer thrashing, their eyes open in a dead stare. Lydecker watching holding a cup of coffee. It was the termination of the rest of 394's unit, and 452 had no idea how she could remember it, surely she hadn't been there?

Interestingly it was that last image that always struck 452 the hardest, the one of Lydecker just watching. She never knew why; the dead children should have on the face of it been much more unnerving.

On the morning of the 19th she came one step closer to finding out. 394 'spoke' to her again that morning as she got up, her large dark eyes staring at 452 through the grille. It was the most she'd ever said and the clearest she'd ever said it.

Zack again! Zack, Zack, Zack, oldest! Then lots. Lots more! Fifteen. Eva and Jack gone, but Zack and Tinga and Brin and Ben and Zane and Syl and Krit and Seth and Kavi and Vada and Jace and Jondy and Max! Max youngest, littlest, like me! Max is you, you like me! Max, Max, Max!

--End of Chapter Nine--