The Defector

by J. C. Andrijeski

  All of the Org agents were armed, of course.

  All but the torch-bearers held weapons in their hands.

  Revik noted that fact, even as he deliberately ignored it.

  He walked to the center of the clearing, all while maintaining that strangely empty mental space. If anything, the clarity and silence of that space heightened, the more faces of Org infiltrators he could see. The reality of them––as fellow seers, as physical beings––snapped him into a totally different mental space, turning them from bogeymen to tangible targets, something he could wrap his arms and mind around, something he could comprehend as real.

  That simple shift of perspective sent him into an even deeper calm.

  Instead of fearing them, he measured them, like he would adversaries on any op.

  Or hell, like he would any seers in a situation where he couldn’t predict the outcome, particularly if he found himself heavily outnumbered.

  His aleimi found twenty distinct infiltrators.

  He found them fast, then confirmed the number with a flickering gaze.

  Some were more visible than others, but he didn’t doubt the count.

  His aleimi took snapshots of the light-markers on a few of them for future reference. Apart from their leader, he didn’t recognize any of those lights specifically.

  Well, at least not that he could remember.

  He suspected more Org agents watched them from the jungle.

  He felt flickers of a separate construct, along with the barest markers of some kind of formation to the east and the west of where he stood.

  His military mind made those wings wrapped around the main unit.

  Protection, but also with offensive capability.

  Not a dumb move, “parlay” or not.

  But then, Terian was never dumb.

  Nor were the Org military planners, whatever their other shortcomings.

  Revik’s mind told him a minimum of twenty-four additional infiltrators he couldn’t see. Maybe as many as thirty.

  Twenty-five, a voice murmured in his mind.

  Revik glanced behind him.

  His eyes met Balidor’s, and he felt his shoulders lose a fraction of their tension when he realized it was the Adhipan leader who had spoken. The two of them were still connected tightly enough to communicate, even in here. The thought relieved him enough that he dared to answer back, hoping it stayed inside the construct-within-the-construct.

  They have us flanked. They could cut us off, he sent, soft.

  I know, Balidor sent back, pulsing reassurance at him. They’ve got some unusual qualities in this construct, brother, so stay alert. I sense close to ten out there, on either side of our exit path… with some of the nearer lights being mirrored decoys to give us close to accurate numbers while obscuring their formation. So we know how many, but not where, precisely.

  They’ve got three times our number, Revik sent. Probably more that could reach us by air in a handful of minutes.

  I know that, too, brother.

  My point is, what if they won’t let us leave? Revik sent.

  Then it’s war, Balidor replied. Galaith knows that.

  But does Terry? Revik murmured, quieter still. More to the point, will he care, even if he does know?

  Balidor didn’t answer him directly.

  Instead, he directed Revik’s attention to a different seer in the main group.

  That one knows, he told Revik, equally soft. I suspect he cares, too. Moreover, he knows who I am… and that I can hear him. I suspect he has a direct line to Galaith.

  Following Balidor’s mind’s nudge, Revik’s eyes found an unusually tall, violet-eyed seer. The male lived somewhere in the five-hundred-year range, with iron gray hair and a Nazi scar that nearly bisected his long, angular face.

  Even from across the clearing, Revik could feel the intensity of the seer’s light. With that charged frequency came flavors of structure that felt unusual to him.

  Balidor was right.

  That seer was formidable.

  Exceedingly high sight rank. Likely high not only in potential but in actual, particularly given his age and the level of training Revik could sense on him.

  But Revik knew he couldn’t avoid looking at his ex-partner for much longer.

  He couldn’t avoid Terry forever.

  After he finished measuring that older, gray-haired seer, tasting a harder snapshot of the fast-moving structures above his head with his aleimi, Revik’s eyes swiveled back to the space directly in front of where he stood.

  The seer who stood there was significantly younger than the one with the violet eyes.

  He was also shockingly, disconcertingly more familiar.

  Revik felt his breath get lost somewhere in his chest as he stared at his old partner.

  They’d been more than partners, in the work sense, that is.

  They’d been closer to brothers––real brothers––as close as anyone could be to that, while living inside the silver light of the Org.

  At the very least, they’d been friends.

  Revik didn’t move for what felt like a long number of minutes. He couldn’t move. He could scarcely breathe normally, or blink his eyes. Even so, he felt his body and light fighting to control themselves, to keep from showing any sign of reaction.

  He stood there, frozen in the amber-eyed stare of Terian.

  For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

  Revik looked over the handsome seer, recognizing the body he wore, recognizing his light. He traced every element of the familiar features––the high cheekbones, the dark auburn hair with streaks of highlight from the sun, those weirdly intense and penetrating amber eyes. He looked over his state-of-the-art organic uniform, the gun he held in long-fingered hands.

  Revik knew how dexterous those hands were––in the good and the bad sense.

  He knew how fast Terian could move, too.

  He would have knives on him, at least four, but likely closer to ten.

  Revik’s gaze took in his lean, muscular form, the strange tilt he felt on Terian’s light––the intense and weirdly beautiful geometries that went with that tilt.

  Silence from Terry was more than he could really deal with, though.

  Maybe it was the amount of time Terian let pass, or the pure anomaly of this particular seer remaining quiet for any amount of time at all, but Revik ended up being the one to break the silence. The fact that it was him who spoke first, and not Terian, caused a number of seers on both sides of that line to jump perceptibly where they stood.

  “I am told you agreed to this,” Revik said.

  His voice came out low, deep, with more accent than usual.

  When Terian didn’t speak, Revik gestured vaguely with one hand, not sure what he meant by the motion, or if it came purely from nerves.

  “Terry?” he said, hitting the words a little harder. “Is this true? Did you agree to act as go-between for Galaith on this thing?”

  Again, the amber-eyed seer didn’t answer.

  As the silence stretched, nerves bled back over Revik’s light. He clamped down harder on his aleimi when he noticed, glancing around at the faces of the other Org infiltrators, maybe to distract himself, or maybe instinctively to collect more information.

  In any case, he found himself stopping on one face, in particular.

  Once he had, disbelief stole over Revik’s light.

  He stared at the strange seer, noting the line of light he could feel between that seer and Terian. The longer Revik stared, the more he felt flavors of Terian coiling around the younger seer’s aleimi, strangling that aleimi in obviously intimate ways.

  The seer was tall––nearly Revik’s own height.

  Black hair.

  Pale gray eyes, but nothing like Balidor’s. Instead, they appeared closer in color and shape to Revik’s own, only with a more opaque tint, one that might even look blue in the right light. Under the yisso torches, his irises shone almost white.

  Angular face. Na
rrow mouth.

  The similarities were too obvious to ignore.

  This fucking seer looked like him. And Terian was sleeping with him.

  Terian was screwing a look-alike of Revik himself.

  Something in that understanding brought a sick tilt to Revik’s mind and light, flooding him with whispers and tastes of memories he no longer wanted anywhere near him, or anywhere near his light. He couldn’t stop or suppress his reaction entirely, but he managed to shove the worst of it aside, long enough to tear his eyes off the male with those pale, nearly colorless eyes.

  He found himself looking at Terian again.

  Without knowing he meant to, he found himself speaking.

  “A new pet, Terry?” he said.

  He regretted the words, as soon as he’d said them.

  He also heard the anger in his own voice.

  Terian let the barrel of his rifle drop, right before he slung it behind him, over his shoulder. Revik didn’t know if Terian did that to mirror how Revik wore his own rifle, or just to make it clear he didn’t see him, or any of the Adhipan seers behind him, as a threat.

  Knowing Terry, it was likely the latter.

  Regardless, Revik felt himself tensing again, feeling something shift in the light of the male seer standing in front of him.

  Revik already managed to set him off somehow.

  Maybe he’d simply ignited some part of Terian’s crazy by pointing out his physical resemblance to his ex-partner’s new lover. Remembering how unpredictable Terian could be, especially when he was pissed off about something, didn’t exactly help Revik assess the situation calmly. Remembering bits and pieces of how Terian used to screw with him, Revik specifically, when he felt wronged by him, or angry, didn’t help, either.

  Nor did the fact that Revik couldn’t remember the last thing he’d done or said to his ex-partner. He suspected telling Terry that wouldn’t exactly calm the other male down, though.

  “Something like that, yes,” Terian answered belatedly.

  A smile toyed at the edges of those sculpted lips, and Revik found himself getting more flashes of memory that didn’t exactly relax him.

  “…Do you approve, Revi’?” Terian added in that lilting voice of his. “He’s quite handsome, don’t you think?”

  Revik frowned. Again, he knew he should drop it, but didn’t.

  “Is it for my benefit?” he said.

  “Not entirely, no.” Terian’s smile grew into a smirk. He glanced back at Revik’s look-alike. “He’s quite… accommodating.”

  Revik fought a frown out of his expression that time, too.

  He felt the thread of light Terian aimed at him when he said it. He felt Balidor block and then deflect it, too, but not before Revik got the barest taste.

  Terian wasn’t going to let this go.

  It might not have mattered what Revik did or said, but Revik’s opening words to the amber-eyed seer definitely hadn’t helped.

  Revik’s light hardened instinctively at the thought, forming a protective shell. Something in that felt familiar too, and at the moment, not entirely unwelcome.

  “I’m happy for you,” he said. He gave the tall, gray-eyed seer an openly dismissive look, even knowing he might be inciting Terian more. “…For both of you.”

  Terian grinned.

  Great. Revik already managed to make this a game for him, too.

  “Oh, no need to chime the bells yet, old friend,” Terian smiled. “There’s always room for more to play, yes? Back in the day, we could have violated him together. He would have liked that, I think. He’s got a bit of your masochist’s edge.”

  Revik felt that remark like a punch.

  Nausea rose in him, again only marginally related to separation sickness. He caught a glimmer of the images Terian fought to throw at him, even as it crossed his mind that the Adhipan seers––Balidor at least––could see all of it.

  The silence stretched.

  Revik didn’t drop his gaze. He saw the delight dancing in Terian’s amber eyes. His old friend could clearly see that his words had gotten to him.

  Terian smiled wider.

  He aimed that smile at the tall, Revik look-alike he was currently fucking, then looked back at Revik himself, that smile still dancing in his eyes and at the edges of his mouth.

  “He gets a bit possessive, though, Revi’,” Terian said next, lightening his voice. “You’d have to fuck him a lot, Revi’, to get him over that. Until you broke him, maybe, got him to say uncle. I think he’d like that, too, though, Revi’… as I said, he likes a little pain with his sex. Not as much as you do, of course, but then… not many do.”

  That time, Revik couldn’t hold eye-contact.

  He averted his gaze, feeling his hands tighten into fists.

  His face warmed too, even as he fought not to look at the row of Adhipan seers standing behind him.

  Terian chuckled, clicking at him in mock surprise.

  “Gaos. Did you just blush, Revi’? It used to take considerably more than that, to get such a reaction from you…”

  Terry clucked in mock consternation.

  “What have they done to you, my brother?” he said, still clicking. “And are you as celibate these days as you feel? Perhaps you only fuck Council-approved whores now, and are finding the willing ones difficult to come by? I imagine there are few, if any, who would deign to touch you, given your unsavory past…”

  Revik didn’t answer that either.

  Still, his light coiled into and around the words.

  Terian always had that sick insight of his, the ability to see past the surface, even more than most seers. Maybe because he was a sociopath, he was less likely to reinterpret what he saw to fit his own emotional needs. He had few emotional needs––at least for the usual things, for others’ approval, love, affection, or whatever else.

  Instead, Terry saw things as they were, at least in that more limited sense.

  He saw them that way because he needed to, to better manipulate those base reactions to his benefit, or simply to his will.

  Because of course Terry was right.

  Revik knew he was right.

  It was a knowledge that had sat with him the whole time he’d been in those caves, although up there, it had been easy to avoid that truth… and to pretend it didn’t matter to him.

  But he knew the truth.

  None of the seers of the Seven or Adhipan would ever want him, not really.

  Not after what he’d done. Not after who and what he’d let himself become under the Rooks, what he’d done in training and interrogation sessions, what he’d done during all the wars and ops he’d conducted and overseen for Galaith. Revik’s disconnection from the Org Pyramid had been public. It occurred inside a quasi-public construct at Vash’s temple in Seertown, and it was part of the public record now.

  All of those in attendance would have talked.

  Moreover, many of those who attended didn’t strictly need to be there.

  Now that he was officially in penance, his years in the Pamir were also public record––which meant any seer could access that information about him if they wanted.

  Revik would be paying seer whores the rest of his life.

  That is, if he wanted to lie with any of his own kind.

  Unless he found another seer as fucked up and dispossessed as he was––one he happened to want, and who also wanted him––Revik would spend the rest of his life alone.

  His future life once he left those caves was crystal clear to him.

  Apart from Vash and Tarsi, who were old enough that they couldn’t have more than a hundred years left between them, he’d have no one.

  He’d be even more alone than he had been inside the Org, likely for the rest of his life.

  Balidor’s light swam more deeply into his, causing Revik’s face to heat.

  You don’t know that, brother, Balidor murmured softly.

  Warmth pooled in Revik’s chest, a denser sympathy.

  …You do
n’t know everything, brother. Not even about yourself.

  Revik glanced behind him, in spite of himself, looking over the faces of the Adhipan seers standing there. He avoided Dalejem’s green eyes, not wanting to see the expression there, or to know if he’d heard everything that had just passed through his mind. He paused instead on Balidor’s face, knowing the older seer meant well, at least.

  Revik knew he should nod to him, acknowledge his words somehow, but he couldn’t seem to make himself do that, either.

  Terian took a step towards him.

  Somehow, the movement snapped the connection Revik had felt there.

  Revik flinched, swiveling his gaze and full attention back towards the Rook.

  He felt his infiltrator’s mask return, even as his mouth hardened.

  He couldn’t be having emotional moments right now, whatever the cause.

  “You really do look… housebroken,” he said, that smile once more audible in his voice. “What happened to your light, my friend? Is it true that they stashed you away in Himalayan ice caves after they cleansed your mind? Forced you into penance to plead forgiveness for your sins? I wouldn’t have believed it, myself, but all I can feel on you now is the stink of kneeler’s mantras and incense.”

  He paused, as if waiting to see if Revik would rise.

  When he didn’t, Terian’s voice twisted with contempt.

  “…Clearly, they feel they’ve brainwashed you sufficiently by now, though, na?” he said, those sculpted lips frowning more. “They wouldn’t have let you out of your cage at all, if they didn’t. So, what did you promise them, Revi’? Did you promise to be a good little boy, to not go anywhere or do anything without their permission? Is this group here to protect you? Or to make sure I don’t corrupt your mind with the filth of common sense?”

  Revik didn’t speak.

  He found himself reorienting around Terian though, seeing him more clearly again.

  He got enough distance from that initial shock of being so near to his light that he could feel the reactions there.

  Terry wasn’t as blasé about seeing him as he was pretending.

  Revik could feel sparks of that reaction, even if he couldn’t untangle them.

  Not all of it was anger.

  Whatever Revik felt there, it was too complex to simply be labeled anger. In any case, he could now feel strongly that it was better not to engage the Rook when he was like this.