The Defector

by J. C. Andrijeski

  Terian glanced briefly at his pet, the Revik look-alike.

  When he looked back at Revik himself, he smiled, but Revik saw that harder look standing out more prominently in his amber-colored eyes. Something about that expression caused Revik to tense.

  He felt another probing dart of light from the other seer, stronger than before.

  Balidor again blocked it, shoving Terian away from Revik’s light.

  That time, Revik sent a flicker of gratitude to the seers standing behind him.

  Terian frowned.

  Staring up at Revik’s face, he began tapping his long fingers on the body of the organic rifle he wore. The cadence was rhythmic, but weirdly distracting, almost like one of those repetitive noises they would use in interrogation cells to cause stress reactions in their subjects.

  Revik glanced at the rifle a second time, in spite of himself.

  The thing truly was state-of-the-art. About six generations ahead of the relics that Revik himself and the Adhipan infiltrators wore.

  When he glanced up, those amber eyes hadn’t left his face.

  “Come now, Revi’… tell me,” Terian cajoled, when the silence stretched. “Confess your sins to me this time, brother, since you never bothered to tell me anything before you left. Is it really true? Are you a believer again, Revi’? Like you were back when we found you in that shithole in Berlin? Are you truly ‘in penance,’ as the rumors tell me? Or is this just another act to save your worthless skin?”

  Clicking softly, Terian shook his auburn-haired head.

  “Gaos. I confess… it bothers me, brother. It troubles me greatly to see you like this. I never thought I would have to witness the day that you became such a hypocrite again. You always had an enormous capacity for self-deception, of course, but this…”

  Terian trailed in his words, still staring at Revik’s eyes. He rested both of his forearms on the barrel of his gun, focusing more intently on Revik’s face.

  After a few more seconds of staring, the Rook’s lips curled into another smile.

  “Gods,” he murmured. “But they haven’t taken all of you, Revi’, have they? Not yet. I can still see you there, brother, even under all of that kneeler crap. Tell me, did they really think they could take a poisonous snake and turn him into a fluffy bunny rabbit?”

  Terian’s smile grew wider, even as another probe of his light darted out.

  Revik nearly flinched at the intensity he felt behind it. Before his infiltrator mask could break, Balidor blocked Terian again, pushing him off Revik’s aleimi.

  Even so, that one was close enough, Revik found his nerves worsening, enough that he had to fight not to take a step back.

  “How long do you suppose this transformation of yours will last this time, Revi’? How long before those appetites rear their ugly heads? Before the hunger to have them sated grows too much for you? Your new friends may think they know you, brother, but I do know you. I know you far better than they ever will. Better than you perhaps know yourself.”

  Again, Revik didn’t speak.

  He fought to push away the images that rose in his light.

  He felt Terian pushing more of those images at him, trying to spark more memories, more feelings. When Balidor blocked them, Terian shifted focus, aiming those same images at the Adhipan seers who stood behind him, meaning Mara, Yumi, Dalai, Vikram.

  And Dalejem. He aimed those images at Dalejem, too.

  Revik’s jaw clenched. He didn’t look back, but felt his shoulders clench.

  He forced the infiltrator’s mask down tighter, staring at Terian alone.

  Terian was smiling now.

  Revik fought with words, some way to pull this back, when Terian abruptly straightened from his more languid pose.

  When he spoke next, his voice had turned flat. Business-like.

  “So what’s the parlay, Revi’?” he said. When Revik didn’t speak, Terian’s voice shifted to an open impatience. “What is it that your kneeler masters have to say to us, old friend? What would you like to plead for, on their behalf?”

  Revik felt his jaw harden more.

  “Galaith agreed to this,” he growled.

  Terian laughed, holding up his hands to the rest of the Org operatives. Revik watched his fingers, frowning at the mocking peace sign Terian made in seer sign language.

  “You are quite safe, Revi’. Quite safe. Do not worry, my brother.” Terian grinned, motioning around the clearing at his seventeen visible agents. “None of my people will shoot you, I promise. Tell me your new friends’ concerns and wishes. I won’t bite.”

  Revik glanced behind him, feeling movement in the Barrier as much as in the physical. The Adhipan leader had shifted position, and now stood closer to Revik, only a few feet away on his left, nearly even with him in the clearing.

  The message there was clear.

  Revik looked back at Terian, then deliberately rested his hands on his hips.

  He’d gotten the message, too.

  “Fine,” he said, motioning that he understood, as much to Balidor as to Terian. He repeated the message for the parlay that Balidor and Vash had given him before they arrived. “You need to back off, Terry. Now.”

  “Do I? Now?” Terian said, his voice openly amused.

  Revik chose to ignore it.

  Like Balidor, he wanted this over.

  Terry was dragging this out on purpose, and Balidor wanted it to stop.

  “…The prisoner we took,” Revik cut in, his accent growing more prominent. “It is legal for us to have her, by the old laws. It was a mistake you made, bringing her here. It violated not only the ancient laws, but those of your own making––”

  “Those of our own making, Revi’?”

  “Yes,” Revik said, biting back anger. “She’s pregnant. Don’t pretend you didn’t know… or that to take a pregnant female captive in a human-run work camp doesn’t go against about a dozen laws of our people, yours and mine. To imprison one who carries a child of our race is unpardonable, and you know it. She should never have been there.”

  Terian laughed, forcing Revik silent.

  Revik stood there, watching Terian laugh, fighting not to react.

  “She shouldn’t have been in Saigon, either, Revi’,” Terian said, his voice holding a colder edge. “…And yes, I know who the cunt is, and I know why you’re so hellbent on protecting her, brother. Which is a bit rich, Revi’, given that she’s about to give birth to another male’s pup. Or do you plan to take the child, too, Revi’? Bring her back to Asia with you, so the three of you can play house in the Pamir?”

  “It’s not like that,” Revik growled, unable to stop himself.

  “Ah, hit a nerve, have I?” Terian said.

  “Stop making this about me!” he snapped.

  “About you?” Terian raised an eyebrow, his voice shifting to a mock innocence. “Whatever do you mean, Revi’? This is about the good of the race, is it not? Isn’t that what you would have me think?”

  “Stop playing games. You know damned well what I mean.”

  “Do I?” Terian’s gaze flattened into a cold veneer, holding enough fury that Revik flinched, in spite of himself. “What do I care that you’re still trying to fuck the cunt, Revi’? What do I care that she’s mated? Pregnant? That she blatantly infiltrated you, used your hard-on for her light to manipulate you into betraying all of your friends? That she somehow then coerced you to come out here yet again to protect and defend her from all that’s evil in the world? Why should I care that you’re still sniffing around her ass like a drunk adolescent? How is that my problem, Revi’? Shouldn’t that be her mate’s concern?”

  Revik clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists at his sides.

  Don’t rise, brother, Balidor murmured. It’s what he wants.

  Terian’s smile crept back across his dark lips.

  “You really are blushing again.” Shaking his head, the Rook clicked his tongue, his smile widening. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I could
n’t see it with my own eyes. Gaos. It’s almost giving me a hard on now, Revi’––”

  “Damn it, Terry,” Revik snapped, again speaking before he could pull it back. “You’re breaking treaty. Moreover, you know you are, and so does Galaith. What the fuck do you want? Do you really plan to gun us down over a pregnant seer?”

  “What makes you think Galaith would stop me, if I did?” Terian said.

  He paused deliberately, staring up at Revik’s eyes.

  His voice grew a few shades colder.

  “…Or were you really under the impression, Revi’, that I was the only one to hold a grudge over you leaving?”

  Revik fought against the emotions he could see in Terian’s eyes, the conflicted loyalties he could feel his old friend trying to raise in Revik’s own light. The doubt. That implication that he’d betrayed them. That he’d betrayed Galaith. That he was at fault.

  Tell him, Balidor prodded him. The words Vash gave you. It is time, brother. We cannot prolong this much longer. He is growing increasingly unstable, your Rook friend.

  Revik frowned at the “friend” comment, but didn’t bother to refute it.

  He did give Balidor a brief glance, but turned away when he saw him nod.

  Revik realized he was right.

  About the instability, anyway.

  “It’s part of the other treaty, Terry,” he said then, turning back to face Terian. “The one he made personally with Vash. After the war. Tell Galaith that.”

  For a moment, Terian just stared.

  Revik found himself lost in that stare briefly, fighting not to care about what he saw, but drawn into the edges of feeling, anyway. He saw reactions move and configure behind those amber eyes, saw tastes of emotion and personalities there and gone.

  This was the body of Terian’s with which Revik was most familiar.

  It was the one Terry seemed the most fond of, too.

  Generally speaking, the Terian Revik knew landed most of his light body inside this vessel when it wasn’t needed elsewhere. He’d managed to kill it more than once, but simply cloned it, again and again. Terian himself was an experiment of sort, Revik knew. He couldn’t remember if he’d been Galaith’s experiment exactly, or Terian’s own experiment, but he wasn’t like ordinary seers.

  It was one thing he remembered clearly about his ex-partner, even if details around the specifics had faded from his mind.

  Terian split his light body out into multiple bodies in the living world.

  It made him more or less unable to be killed.

  Revik remembered Terian calling it “riding corpses.” He seemed to find the wording funny for some reason, although Revik had a memory of it disturbing him, even as a Rook.

  Most of the Org soldiers here wouldn’t know that, though.

  Revik wondered if Terian’s new boy-toy even knew… the lookalike.

  Terian had other quirks with his bodies, in addition to favoring this one.

  He dyed the hair on all of his male bodies to this same auburn color, unless there was an operational reason why he couldn’t. Revik couldn’t remember the reasons behind the preference, or even if he’d ever bothered to ask him while they’d been friends, but he remembered the detail with surprising clarity.

  He tried to pull his feelings apart from everything he could see in that face.

  The memories were fleeting, but Revik could feel tastes of emotion there, and not only in the seer standing before him.

  The truth was, Balidor was right.

  Terian had been his friend.

  Maybe Revik even still felt that way about him in a strange sense.

  Truly, though, their relationship had always been more of big brother to little brother, with Revik playing the role of mentor and protector, due to some unspoken agreement between them––or possibly due to some directive from Galaith.

  Even so, when Revik was in the Org, Terry might have been the only thing standing between him and total disconnection with other beings.

  Revik had been lonely in the Org, he remembered that much.

  He had been intensely lonely, at times.

  He’d been lonely even when he had lovers that lasted more than a few days or weeks, even when he tried to connect with others. Too often, friendships in the Org got mired in political complications, in power differentials, in agendas. The ones that didn’t often fell flat, or turned competitive in some way, mired in superficial, petty bullshit of one kind of another.

  Terian at least gave a damn.

  As batshit crazy as Terry was, he’d been capable of warmth––affection, even––at least with Revik himself. He’d been intensely loyal with him, too, in a way that completely superseded his political ambitions––and those ambitions had not been small.

  Revik swallowed, refocusing on those amber eyes.

  He didn’t want to give a damn. Hell, he couldn’t afford to give a damn.

  Not now.

  Even as he thought it, Terian broke the silence.

  “And what ‘other treaty’ would that be, Revi’?” he said, lifting one eyebrow.

  Leaning forward, he again rested his arms on the modified gun. Revik couldn’t help looking at it, even as a thought slid through his mind that he would miss some of the Org toys, too. Galaith, unlike the Adhipan and the Seven, worked with an almost unlimited budget, in no small part due to his strong ties to the human business world.

  Terian’s voice sharpened.

  “Revi’? What bullshit is this, old friend?”

  Revik sighed a little, at least internally.

  “I don’t know the specifics,” he said. “I’m just an emissary, too, brother.”

  As soon as he said it, he felt his mistake.

  Hostility swam through the light of the Org seers in front of him, and not only from Terian. Revik felt it most strongly from the gray-eyed seer who looked like him. It felt as if the male wanted to hit him across the mouth for his words.

  It took Revik a second more to realize that the word that so infuriated them was “brother.”

  They hated that he’d called Terian brother.

  “Ask Galaith,” Revik said, if only to end that silence. Feeling their hostility sharpen, Revik’s muscles bunched up. He shifted his weight, even as his light and body began unconsciously gearing up for a fight. “Just fucking ask him, Terry,” he snapped, hearing the adrenaline in his voice. “Why are you prolonging this?”

  “An emissary. Is that what you are, Revi’?”

  Revik’s jaw tightened. “Terry.”

  “…How incredibly formal and official it all sounds. ‘Emissary.’” Terian’s lip curled, but Revik felt the coil of anger there. “Do you really think––”

  “Terry,” Revik cut in, warning. “Ask him, or end this. We’ll find another way to talk to your boss, if you’re not capable of passing on a simple fucking message.”

  His ex-partner’s amber eyes changed again.

  The fury in his light turned cold as ice, stripped of pretense.

  Revik felt others in the clearing react to the shift, especially on the Org side. Being hooked into the construct, they probably felt the real emotion there, without the shields that stood between Revik and Terian.

  Revik caught movement as the Org seers looked at one another, their faces visibly tense as they shifted their weight, rearranging hands on weapons and holsters.

  Revik saw Terian give his new boyfriend a look then, as if warning him about something, or communicating something maybe. It occurred to Revik that they were probably all talking outside of his hearing, even more than he’d realized.

  The Adhipan seers might be, as well.

  Revik’s eyes followed Terian’s to the look-alike with the black hair.

  The gray-eyed male looked nervous, but more angry than nervous.

  Revik wondered if Terry’s fuck-toy had any idea how dangerous his new playmate was.

  Even as he thought it, Terian looked back at him.

  “I have relayed your message,” Terian
said, surprising Revik, not only with the words but with his matter-of-fact tone. All traces of that previous fury appeared to have vanished, for the moment, at least. “It probably doesn’t surprise you that he requires proof?”

  Terian lifted an eyebrow, staring at him.

  Revik nodded, albeit reluctantly.

  He expected this, but it was the part he dreaded, too.

  It was also the part Balidor and Vash warned him about.

  “Yes,” he said, hearing the reluctance in his voice. “Only him, though,” he warned, giving Terian a harder look.

  Revik saw a bare smile touch Terian’s lips.

  Then, the shield around him began to reconfigure.

  Revik felt Balidor there.

  He felt Vash, even Dalejem briefly, then––

  Fuck. Holy fuck. He couldn’t do this.

  He really couldn’t do this.

  But it was already too late.

  Sixteen

  Extracting A Toll

  Galaith’s light descended over Revik’s.

  It happened without preamble, without warning––with no way for him to prepare.

  It felt like mercury being poured over his skin.

  It clung there, melding into parts of Revik that hurt from the contact.

  Even that confused him, though. The pulls and revulsions and resonances blended into one another until he couldn’t decide if it was the contact itself that hurt, or the absence of it, prior to now. Had he actually missed this, somehow? Had he missed Galaith?

  Could anyone sane really miss this?

  Sickness washed over him as he struggled with the thought, pulling at his separation pain, even as he felt grief from the other being’s light, a wanting of him.

  It had been so long since any being wanted his light like that.

  Revik’s nausea and separation pain worsened.

  He fought not to cry out, knowing they could probably all see it in his face, in his light, even as he felt Balidor and the others let this happen. They opened him up deliberately when he tried to get away, allowing Galaith to see the information they’d given him, what they’d imprinted on his light before they reached the clearing.