King of All I Survey
Chapter 82: Stop Doing That with My Mother!

Chapter 82: Stop Doing That with My Mother!

In the status room, Dad and I watched events in Guatemala. Rafael had been a model of congeniality in the meet and greet after the speeches. Shaking hands, smiling, and chatting about upbeat prospects for the future. He used the names of people he had met before even in passing. His recall of names and faces was nothing short of remarkable. He was, to put it bluntly, a genius at being charming and likeable.

I noticed the way Mom... Maribel, rather, glanced at him from time to time. I wanted to believe it was simple admiration. I guess Dad noticed it, too. He decided to take a walk down to the house and make us some sandwiches even though we could have just had the food synthesizer send them to us with a thought. At least Mom would be home soon, I thought. I ran through scenarios in my head that would eliminate the need for Maribel’s presence in Guatemala. At the moment though, because of my plans, she was the visible figurehead of peace and prosperity for the entire country. Indeed, her reputation was growing beyond the borders of Guatemala. She had been invited to visit several Zapatista communities in Mexico, and there was even a small, but growing group of fans in Peru where we had created her origin and family history.

As the crowd dwindled and things wrapped up in Sacapulas, Maribel and Rafael climbed into the back of the black Prada with Luis at the wheel to begin the drive back to Maribel’s house. I breathed a sigh of relief as they closed the vehicle’s door and Luis activated the field that effectively shielded the occupants from anything short of a nuclear strike. I made a mental note to talk to Joe more about how Galactic Union warships penetrated these shields so I could understand the limits of their protections. As I began introducing this kind of field control and the material matrices that supported and shaped them, I would need some way to take them out should they be used by bad actors.

My attention was drawn back to the display. As soon as the SUV’s door closed, Rafael’s face changed from the smiling, pleasant diplomat to... well, something darker. Anger, indignation, and a mix of other dark emotions turned his face into a boiling cauldron of malevolence. I was thousands of miles away and, honestly, I was a little scared.

I imagined Mom... Maribel sitting in the car next to him, trapped with a monster. She must be scared out of her mind. But she smiled when she looked at him. Did she not see... There’s no way she could have missed his desire for violence.

"I want the prisoners," he said darkly. "Especially the one with the knife. You know he would have tried to kill you if he didn’t panic. I need to send a message. Come at me, if you dare, but my... companion is off limits."

"Rafael," Maribel said softly as she took his hand in both of hers, "It’s sweet that you want to protect me, but you should know that I can take care of myself. You need to think about your own safety and leave mine to Luis and his colleagues. I’m pretty sure that given the choice, they will save me even if it means leaving you on your own."

"You’ve got that right," said an enthusiastic voice from the front seat.

Rafael was momentarily taken aback by Luis’s implied insult but noticed Maribel’s hands wrapped around his at that moment, and his features relaxed a little. It was still the look of a cold-blooded killer with something to prove, but at least he seemed more under control instead of a volcano ready to erupt at any second.

"I would lay down my life to protect you Maribel, I would expect no less from the men your father trusts to protect you," He said. Maribel, my mother though she didn’t remember that in her current cover persona, smiled and blushed.

"I know," she said very softly. "That’s one of the things I find very attractive about you. I like knowing that your animal instincts are barely under control, ready to break free at any second. It’s very sexy."

Yikes, I really didn’t want to hear this! Dad would have flipped. She took one hand away from his and reached it up beside his head. She drew him closer and kissed him, gently at first, then with more passion as he returned the kiss. His hand slid around her waist.

"Well, this is undermining any progress I had made with his therapy sessions," Joe’s voice said as I turned away and willed that particular audio and video feed to disappear from the display wall.

"Um, Joe, I think maybe you overdid it on that part of Maribel’s personality..." I said sheepishly.

"Unfortunately, I did not really change her fundamental nature and the way she reacts to external stimuli emotionally. That kind of change isn’t something that can be switched off since it builds neural pathways, like the imprint therapy, making lasting changes. She’s reacting the way Susan would, if Susan didn’t have a husband and son waiting at home of course," Joe explained.

I felt a moment of panic. That’s not good. Dad is nothing like Rafael. I might even call them opposites in terms of personality. Dad was always calm and the voice of reason no matter how stressful things got. Although, I guess he seemed less so when he saw Rafael and Mom together.

"Joe, tell Luis to tell her that she needs to meet with her father. Tell her he’s in Panama so she won’t have to fly all the way to Peru. Tell her you can drop Rafael off at the house and take her straight to the airport," I ordered.

I turned the stream back on as Luis finished repeating the message. Rafael’s face darkened again, then lightened as Maribel said, "You can bring us both to the airport, perhaps it’s time my father met Rafael."

Oh, no! That was not how this was supposed to go! "No!" I called out to Joe, "Make something up to stop that!"

Luis relayed her instruction through his hand-held radio, then listened as Joe replied.

"I’m afraid that won’t be possible," Luis said, as a murderous storm cloud appeared on Rafael’s face again. "Our security team needs to go over the captives from today’s assault with Rafael to see if he can identify any of them. We’ll be finishing the preliminary interrogation tonight and we’d like to have him see them early tomorrow morning, so we can assess any on-going threat and trace whatever organization may have sent them."

Rafael’s scowl turned into a predatory smile. "I get to meet them after all?"

"Yes," Luis answered, "our people will be there to make sure there are no... incidents."

A small glint in Rafael’s eyes said that he was pretty sure he’d manage to get access to the would-be attackers.

He and Maribel exchanged silent conspiratorial glances. "All right, you go, Maribel. I’ll stay here and attend to this matter, to better ensure your continued safety, of course."

"Of course," she agreed, "Have fun."

His smiled broadened, "Oh, I will. I will."

I was scared again. Maybe I should rethink the idea of letting Maribel make him President.

"Joe, why isn’t therapy working? He seems worse, if anything."

"No, this aspect was there all along. He generally hides it but apparently feels comfortable enough with your... with Maribel to let it show. Memory imprint therapy with someone with such deeply seated tendencies is normally pursued in a single session over the course of perhaps 10 or more days. We would control the subject’s environment completely, introducing triggers that will make him feel one way or another and either tamping them down or augmenting them, depending upon whether we want to de-emphasize or enhance a particular reaction. Over a course of time, we can build new cognitive linkages that evoke different feelings and associations to environmental stimuli. The end result is that instead of reacting with, as a simple example, murderous rage at being insulted, the subject might find humor and be comfortable enough with himself that he is not offended by a light-hearted joke at his expense. When the environment is uncontrolled and we don’t have direct access to make adjustments, the old reactions can reinforce themselves and undo what we are trying to accomplish. This is especially true if your mother is rewarding his behavior with her approval at a level that leaves her own imprint on certain neural pathways."

"OK, maybe too much information...," I grimaced. "Maybe you can tie him to a therapist’s couch for a couple days while Maribel is gone," I suggested.

"He will react badly if he thinks we lied about seeing the captives," Joe warned.

"Yeah, maybe you should have thought of something else instead of promising that, then!" I snarled.

"Yes, I’m still learning how to lie effectively. It’s a new function for me."

"Well, don’t get too good at it. For the record, I forbid you to lie to me, by order of the Supreme Ruler of the Entire Earth Solar System and Nearby Space."

"Of course, my king," Joe replied. I wasn’t quite sure if there was a hint of irony in his tone.

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