The Defector

by J. C. Andrijeski

  He was wasting time, though.

  The sun hadn’t yet risen above the horizon line, but it was about to. The predawn light was slowly turning the sky a dark pink and cobalt blue that illuminated most of the field east of where he crouched, just behind the last line of trees leading into the jungle.

  That same light extended south, where the clear-cut continued, but stopped short before it reached where he stood, blocked by the dense trees and undergrowth. Even so, when he glanced back a second time, Revik could see the outline of the Adhipan infiltrators where they watched him, their postures tense, from about ten meters away.

  Brother? Yumi sent. Are you going?

  Revik let out a sharper exhale, then a nod.

  Okay, he sent, not hiding his reluctance.

  Rising slowly from his crouch, he stepped out from behind the trees, moving with a purpose he couldn’t make himself feel.

  Immediately, he felt the construct of the work camp.

  He could almost see it, writhing in the space in front of him.

  He hesitated, right at the periphery.

  Almost without knowing he did it, he winced, closing his eyes…

  Then he stepped over that line.

  Alarms exploded inside his mind.

  Deafening, raw.

  Like a scream inside his head.

  He felt the division as tangibly as if he’d just stepped his whole body into a full tank of water. Silver strands, like metal teeth and razor wire, slid invasively into his light, so cleanly, he couldn’t begin to think about defending himself.

  Those same Barrier strands wrapped into structures he hadn’t touched in over five years, structures and threads that wound around his light, invisible when dormant, now vibrating with a sick, metallic, silver frequency that was so familiar he let out an involuntary groan.

  He stood there, fighting to breathe.

  His whole body clenched into a hard knot, paralyzing him, locking him to the spot where he stood. He was blind. His body was concrete.

  His feet felt buried in the earth.

  The alarm continued to go off.

  It was so loud now, he thought it might shatter his skull.

  The silver strands wrapped into him tighter and he let out a cry, falling to his knees on something hard. It felt like toxic sludge dumping down on him, blinding his sight. Nausea rose so quickly, he couldn’t work his throat or stomach to deal with it.

  He fought to get back to his feet.

  He fought with all of his being to move his hands, his legs, his knees.

  He knew he was down, but he couldn’t stop fighting.

  Terror exploded in his mind, his light. They were coming. He could feel them coming for him. They knew who he was. They knew who he fucking was.

  He had to get away… crawl away, if he had to…

  Hands abruptly grabbed him.

  Immediately, his terror exploded outward, making him cry out.

  They had him. They fucking had him.

  He tried to fight them off––

  “Brother,” a familiar voice said, through gritted teeth. “Brother, stop fighting us! Let us get you out of here! They’re closer than we thought. They’re coming!”

  Even as he said it, another sound ricocheted through Revik’s mind.

  He didn’t know how he heard it, given the blindingly loud siren, the screaming behind his eyes, the voices of the uniformed soldiers who were trying to drag him to his feet. It somehow lived in a near-silence behind all the rest.

  Perhaps the sheer physicality of the sound simply overrode the Barrier noise he couldn’t think past.

  That, or the familiarity.

  Something about that pure familiarity, of muscle memory, of years and decades of ingrained habit, lurched Revik back into motion, even when nothing else could.

  He moved in spite of the paralysis, in spite of the silver strands, in spite of the pain that wanted to shatter his skull, in spite of the mercury light shaking of every muscle in his body.

  It wasn’t even that loud, that sound––not at first.

  Revik knew exactly what that sound was though, and what it meant.

  It was gunfire.

  Eleven

  No One Will Leave You

  Run! Yumi commanded, her light vibrating their small construct. Flee! Now! All of you! Do not worry about the construct. Head at once for the rendezvous!

  Rendezvous? Revik thought, his mind numb. Where the fuck is that?

  Panic invaded his light, the realization that they intended to leave him behind––

  “No, brother,” a voice said firmly from beside him.

  Revik looked over at the man half-jogging next to him, realizing only then that the same seer still clutched Revik’s arm in a death-grip.

  Dalejem. Always Dalejem.

  Revik felt a relief so profound, he could have hugged him.

  Not just could have––wanted to. He wanted to hug him, to wrap himself around him, lose himself inside that light––

  He couldn’t think about that, either.

  Confusion fought with the pain throbbing behind his eyes, making him question everything. Was it really Dalejem there? Or was that just who he wanted it to be?

  He couldn’t fucking see. He couldn’t fucking see anything now.

  The male beside him didn’t look at him, but continued to pull Revik forward into the jungle, urging him faster with his light and that iron-like grip on his arm, even as he spoke reassuringly to Revik in hurried pants.

  “Don’t worry, brother… I beg you. We would never intentionally let harm come to you. I promise you.” He glanced up at Revik then, and jumped, as if startled at something he saw on Revik’s face.

  Revik fought to see him, to focus his eyes, but he couldn’t.

  “…We couldn’t risk giving it to you,” Dalejem explained.

  For it was Dalejem, it had to be Dalejem. Who else would it be? Who else wouldn’t have left him there in the dirt?

  Couldn’t risk giving it to him?

  Couldn’t risk giving him what?

  “…We had no idea what the construct would do to you,” the other seer continued, still gripping his arm. “We didn’t know whether you would be able to shield any information from them at all. As it is, they might have killed you. They almost did kill you, even with us shielding. We should have foreseen this. We shouldn’t have let you go––”

  He looked up at Revik again.

  That time, the green and violet eyes looked fierce.

  “I’ll get you there, brother.” His voice grew cold, uncompromising. “I promise you I will, or neither of us will get there. I won’t leave you. I promise I won’t leave you. Okay? Stop thinking that I will, or I will be deeply offended, brother.”

  Revik nodded, biting the inside of his cheek.

  He could feel other lights around him now.

  He felt sympathy, whispers of concern.

  He even felt guilt.

  It confused him more than anything.

  Who were these people? Why did they care about him at all? What did they want from him? The question made his head hurt, his gut churn.

  No one was ever nice to him for no reason.

  He’d learned that years and years ago. It was always a trap.

  There was always a price.

  The silver light continued to slide around him, pulling at him, making his nausea worse, making him fight to keep down his bile, to keep his legs moving, his body lurching forward.

  That same metallic light found an entry point, somewhere outside of Revik’s awareness, in some structure that lived in his light, above his head. Before Revik could stop it, or even send out a warning to the others––

  It funneled down through that same structure, blanketing him in iron.

  The pain of it made him stumble.

  It nearly dropped him to his knees.

  The nausea worsened, until his whole body heaved. He had no idea if anything came up. His vision blurred for real, bringing on a disori
entation and fatigue so intense he stumbled a second time. That time he fell… into a tree. He grabbed it briefly, gasping, but those fingers tightened on his arm even more.

  He could barely feel them now.

  The silver light was still raining down on him.

  The pain in his head and chest started to get worse.

  Then a lot worse.

  Then it was so bad Revik realized Dalejem was right.

  He was already dead––the Rooks would kill him out here. There was no place left for him to go, nowhere far enough that the Rooks and Galaith wouldn’t follow. They’d found him. They’d found his light again.

  To them, it wasn’t his light at all.

  It was theirs.

  Maybe they were even right. Maybe it was theirs.

  They’d likely done more to change it and grow it and cultivate it and mold it than he had, whatever he’d told himself at the time. When it came down to it, you owned what you used. When you forfeited that ownership, there was no one left to cry to.

  Now they’d just finish the job they started.

  They’d break everything in him, cover him over in molten metal and cold fire.

  It was already too late. They already had him.

  If the others stayed, they’d only be caught as well. If they tried to carry him out, they’d be caught. If they tried to fight the Org, they’d be caught. Anything they did to stall their flight out of here, and they’d be caught with helicopters filled with Black Arrow operatives, with the weight of the World Court and all of SCARB and the Sweeps and the camp authorities.

  They’d be caught and they’d be disappeared… and they’d be lost.

  It would be Revik’s fault.

  The Org’s infiltrators who would descend like vultures in the dark.

  Dalejem said he wouldn’t leave him.

  At the time, the words reassured Revik.

  Now, the memory of them panicked him.

  The thoughts jumbled in Revik’s brain, so intensely he couldn’t speak, not even to tell them to leave him, to leave him there––

  Then, out of nowhere, something else intervened.

  Not something.

  Someone.

  Someone who suddenly felt an awful lot like––

  “Balidor,” Dalejem muttered next to him.

  Revik could hear him. He could hear the other seer again.

  He could hear him, and feel his hands on him, the articulation of his fingers.

  It was such a relief, he could only close his eyes.

  The seer next to him continued to mutter under his breath, his words warlike, close to angry, yet exuding a relief that was almost physical.

  “––It’s about fucking time,” Dalejem growled. “We’ve been trying to reach him since you fell in that road. They will help you, brother. Him and the woman. They have Vash looped into the construct too. And Tarsi, our old leader in the Adhipan. At the very least, they’ll keep them from killing you from the fucking Barrier before we can free your light––”

  It confused Revik somewhat, how angry the other man sounded.

  It crossed his mind that he might be angry at him––

  “No, brother.” Dalejem’s grip on him tightened. His voice grew lower, even as warmth swam over Revik’s light. “No one is mad at you, brother. Trust me on this.”

  He yanked harder on Revik’s arm, worry bleeding through his fingers.

  Revik followed mindlessly, conscious suddenly that he had his other hand on the butt of the Glock strapped to his right thigh. He gripped it compulsively, but didn’t try to draw it. He wasn’t trying overly hard to be quiet at that point, either, although he followed the prodding of Dalejem’s light and the pull of his hand.

  For a few minutes, that’s all he was aware of.

  Light, that grip of fingers, the sounds he made through the jungle.

  Then, it struck him that something was gradually changing.

  He could almost see again.

  He felt flavors of Vash in his light now, as well as Balidor.

  He still felt Balidor most of all, but he pulled on Vash compulsively, and felt the other seer’s presence grow even stronger. He had to bite his lip to keep from trying to talk to the older seer. He found he wanted to talk to him, even though the words weren’t really there, nothing coherent, nothing that made any sense.

  I love you, my son, a voice murmured.

  It felt so far away. It felt eons away, lifetimes away, but Revik knew that voice. He would have known it anywhere, even if the distance was thousands of times what it was.

  The voice grew fierce.

  I love you, my son, it repeated. No one will leave you there. No one. I love you. Your aunt loves you. They would not dare leave you there.

  Revik nodded.

  He nodded, and that compulsion to speak, to have the other hear him, faded slightly.

  Tears came to his eyes instead.

  Relief flooded over him as the tears fell, even as a part of him felt embarrassment, even shame for how badly he’d needed to hear that from the old male. He’d needed to feel that from the old man, more than from anyone out here in the jungle, despite the fact that his life was in their hands, despite the fact that Balidor himself, famed leader of the Adhipan, had sworn to protect him, to personally keep him safe.

  In the end, it was always Vash.

  It was Vash who was always there for him. Always.

  Even when everyone told the old man that Revik was evil, that he was beyond saving, Vash remained with him, in his light. He didn’t seem to care what any of them said.

  Revik didn’t know why the old man loved him.

  He only knew that he did.

  He also knew that love was probably the only reason he was still alive.

  “That is beautiful, brother. Truly.”

  Revik turned his head.

  He found Dalejem there, still pulling him along, his hand still gripping Revik’s bicep like an iron vise, holding him up through sheer force of will. In blurred greens, blues and yellows, the jungle and sky grew faintly visible again, although Revik had no idea where he was, or what direction Dalejem was leading him.

  Seeing the warmth in the other male’s eyes, Revik could only nod, his embarrassment returning in a heated flush when he realized the other seer had heard everything he’d been thinking, every childlike, illogical word that had gone through his head.

  He fought to relax.

  Taking a deeper breath, he fought to move his muscles more under his own will, but Dalejem resisted him slightly, using his light to continue to guide Revik’s own, as well as his physical body.

  “Let me do it,” he said. “Relax, brother. Try to trust me.”

  Revik heard relief in the other male’s voice.

  “Just be as open to them as you can,” Dalejem added, renewing his grip on Revik’s arm. “Stay with Vash… and with Balidor. They have a better shield around you now. Let them try to pull some of that shit out of your light.”

  Fighting to make sense of his words, Revik only nodded.

  Dalejem had already looked away by then, though.

  He began pulling Revik along faster, even as the Adhipan seer’s aleimi grew more gentle within his, more coaxing than demanding, more guiding than yanking or forcing. Dalejem’s green and violet eyes focused ahead, on the path in front of them.

  Revik found himself doing the same.

  He could almost see for real now.

  Not only had his vision started to clear, but the trees had grown visible around him, enough that he knew the sun must be significantly higher in the sky than he’d imagined. That meant more time must have passed than he’d imagined, too. It had to be well into morning if this much of the star’s light was reaching them through the thick canopy.

  He realized for the first time that Dalejem held a machete in his free hand, not a gun, and that he was hacking them through the jungle, moving faster than Revik would have thought possible, given the terrain.

  “They knew it
was me,” Revik managed, a few minutes later.

  Dalejem let out a humorous laugh, nearly hoarse.

  “Yes, brother,” he said, that darker humor still in his voice. “They most certainly did know it was you.”

  “Are they following us?”

  “Yes,” Dalejem said.

  “Just the ones at the camp? Or the ones who had been following Balidor and…” He hesitated on her name, even now. “…And Kali?” he finished. “Those seers, too?”

  “About half of them, yes. The plan exceeded our expectations in that regard.” Dalejem glanced back at him. “They really want you, brother.”

  Revik wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

  In the end, he only nodded.

  Dalejem likely didn’t see the nod.

  As before, the older seer had already turned his attention back to the not-path he was hacking for the two of them through the jungle. Revik found himself watching in fascination as Dalejem moved them forward at a near-steady pace, moving them around larger trees and stumps and even boulders as he found openings through the dense greenery. He moved with the grace and precision of a dancer, wielding the long knife as if it were a sword.

  Neither of them spoke for what felt like a long time.

  Dalejem hacked through the undergrowth, and Revik watched, following close behind him and to his right. Dalejem’s hand never left Revik’s arm, yet the blade never came close to him, or hesitated in one of its perfect swings carving a path through the dense green.

  The other seer was left-handed, Revik realized suddenly.

  Not like it mattered all that much with most seers. Living as long as they did, most became ambidextrous to one degree or another; but Dalejem clearly favored his left hand and arm for this kind of work.

  Eventually, Dalejem seemed to sense Revik was more or less “back” with him and released his arm, and Revik slid into the empty space behind him. He stepped almost directly in the other’s footsteps, remaining at least halfway in his light as he followed him through the vines and leafy plants. His mind went nearly blank as he watched the other work.

  Fatigue tried to slow him down, to make his legs move more clumsily, but whenever his eyelids drooped too much, Dalejem would jerk him back from that edge with his aleimi, pulling Revik’s mind back into sharper focus.