The Syndicate

The sound of their footsteps echoed through the hallway, a steady tapping that went largely unnoticed as Lynne passed through it. The bleak walls were finished in the standard gray paint, which was consistent with everything else on the ship as far as she was concerned. Dull and boring, with a military-grade cleanliness as was the case on every ship the Syndicate operated. She passed by a large window which showed Earth below them, a shape which reminded her of a large, mostly blue marble with white wisps and some green and brown masses. Pretty.

Her mentor, Master Brusque, was leading the way. Lynne didn’t struggle to keep up with him, at least not like she used to, but she was a good eight inches shorter and as a result her steps were almost twice as frequent as his. She remembered a time when it hadn’t been so easy, back when she first began as his Pupilan, a term designated for those who studied under masters. That had been three years ago, an unconventionally long time ago, at least for someone in her position. Now, she could feel the muscles in her legs working as if without effort as she kept pace with her mentor.

Working at The Syndicate had never been a goal of hers, though it had been aligned with her goals at the time when she had been hired. Lynne had wanted to be a policewoman, taking a role in her father’s footsteps, preserving peace and standing for justice! This was what she did now, even if her employer was a private company and the jobs they took on were less for justice and more for profit.

The thought of the money that exchanged hands between various governments or other rich companies and Syndicate management was supposedly quite stunning, and Lynne daydreamed briefly about what she could buy if she had no limitations. She nearly bumped into her master as he had stopped to let someone pass by before turning to their left and down another long hallway. She took in a short breath as she stopped just short of him, his cloak just inches from her face. His scent, enticing to say the least, made her clench her jaw and step back. He seemed to notice her briefly as he spared her a quick glance before trodding away again, but did not let on as to how he felt about her lack of elegance.

Blushing slightly, Lynne quickly moved to get back into position behind Brusque and resumed her previous pace, this time focused. Very focused. At least until she noticed another smell a minute later, this time coming from the food court in an area not far from where they were. Thoughts of a sausage on a bun with cheese and mustard and…

“Master Brusque!” A high-pitched voice squeaked and brought her out of her daydream. A small woman with black hair done up in a bun sat behind a high counter. Her station was an alcove with a rounded arch above her computer placed in the wall to their left. The woman’s name was was Anita. Lynne had met her several times over the last few years, even outside of business hours. She was a fun woman, though easily intimidated, and she was the receptionist in the meeting chambers.

“Everyone is in the main hall, uh, sir,” she stammered, struggling to meet his eyes. Late one night Anita had admitted to Lynne that she found her master to be intriguing and with more encouragement, and a whole lot more ****, she told her she would most certainly be down to do a whole lot more than talk to him, should she have the opportunity!

As a rule, this was the sentiment shared by a majority of the those seeking male attention. Not only was he a gorgeous specimen, but he also had a rather interesting energetic talent. Energetic, as in his ability to shape the energy within and around him to do his bidding. He was able to speed up his ability to act in, and perceive, time. His talent was called, “Adrenaline.” This placed him high on everyone’s theoretical To Do list. She had her own, though maybe not as impressive, talent called, “Enhance.” It was much more common amongst energetics and allowed her to enhance her, and others around her, physical abilities. It had a significant synergy with Brusque and his ability, which was why she had been placed with him by those in charge of pairing energetic teams.

“Thank you, Anita.” He said in his near-whisper, smooth as silk, dreamy baritone. At least that was how Lynne would describe, and had described, it to her friends. Anita’s eyes widened as she realized that the man in front of her knew her name and looked like she might melt on the spot. He turned and continued down the hallway and Lynne gave Anita a quick thumbs up and a smile, then waved and hurried after.

They passed by doors on either side of the hallway, each to their own meeting rooms. Lynne had been in a few of them before when organizing some minor business for Carl. She chastised herself in her head, she really should be referring to him as Master Brusque! She liked to use his first name in her head, it felt more intimate somehow, though she would never make the mistake of using it aloud. That would show leagues of disrespect she felt she would never be able to swim back through.

Unfortunately, none of the doors had windows or any means to see who was inside, so her curiosity, another trait she seemed to be unable to kick, was left unsatisfied. Ten doors later, they arrived at the end of the hallway where a set of double doors stood. Pausing in front, a red light came from a reticle on the front of the right door and scanned her mentor’s face. A quiet click came from the door as it unlocked and as he reached forward he said one thing.

“As always.”

Tilting her head, Lynne interpreted the code. A long time ago he had taught her meeting etiquette, which was a set of basic rules to follow when attending meetings alongside him. They were a list of formal rules established by The Syndicate to assist masters and pupilan so that meetings would be productive, however, and as he had her understand, there were also rules of his own. Her master was a rule follower, and he expected her to be as well. He also saw the limitations, as he called them, to the rules, and as such saw it necessary to add in extra directives.

One such directive was to remain silent at all times unless he allowed her to speak. At first it sounded like a particularly picky rule, but over time she saw pupilan of other masters speaking out of turn, and usually to their detriment. This was not only unproductive, but it made their masters look less capable of handling their protégés. This type of incompetence was looked down upon by the Head Masters. At one time she had considered herself to be quite the chatterbox. However, through reminders, and diligent training of her own, she managed to curb that into a more… animated silence. The last few formal council meetings she hadn’t even made a hesitant peep, a fact that she had been proud to say Master Brusque had taken note of. Enough to comment after a meeting on it. His soft, “Good,” was enough to quench a hundred meetings worth of verbal diarrhea, which was her default, and she rode that high for hours!

“Sir.” Lynne responded quietly, straightening her posture and putting on a mask of passivity on her facial features. She went through a mental checklist, ensuring she was ready to present herself at his side. Hair, tied back in a ponytail, check. Cloak, she straightened it slightly, check. Pants, she looked down, saw they were clean, though slightly worn and would need replacing in the near future, semi-check. She briefly glanced over her tank top. No stray hairs, there was a small piece of lint she picked off, and flicked to the side. Mostly good.

Looking up, she saw a blank expression on his face. Blank, at least, to the perspective of the rest of the world. To her, she could see the corner of his eyes were slightly creased, his lips remained mostly straight, but a tiny twitch betrayed his amusement.

“Sir!” She whispered aggressively, “Are you mocking me?!”

“Does it appear as though I am mocking you, Lynnette?” He exclusively used her full name when in public. Well. Not just in public. She wished he would loosen up a little! At least he didn’t call her, “Hardisty,” anymore, which was her surname. She smiled, realizing maybe he had chilled out a little. A very, very little.

“Well, mockery is not becoming of you, Master.” This was as close to teasing as she dared to get.

A rare half-smile briefly showed on his lips as he turned away from her and opened the door, revealing the large chamber within.

Here we go. Lynne steeled herself, knowing that the next hour or so would be filled with important council business. Knowledge which she would be privy to and would be expected to discuss later with Carl. They passed through the door together and it shut with a hiss and locked behind them.