Bringer of Chaos- The Origin of Pietas

by Kayelle Allen

  "It's time to begin the next phase of our plan. Plus, I've brought you a present. Our first ally among the humans."

  "Who is it?

  "Brought where? Here?" Heads turned, looking.

  Rheault used his gift of light-cast to brighten the room. "We'll call these human allies Ch'thon, after the chthonic regions of the Earth. The land where human myths say the gods of the underworld dwelt. What are we if not gods of the underworld?"

  "Show us!"

  Rheault made a simple gesture and brighter light shone in the corner. The human technician Ahjdaya waited like a wax doll, eyes closed, still Charmed, entranced.

  More gasps arose. Several Ultras moved toward the human.

  "Don't touch him." Rheault remained where he was. "He'll awaken."

  The Ultras circled the human, birds of prey sizing up a kill.

  "Is he real?"

  "Where did you get him?"

  One of the women turned to Rheault. "You used Glimmer to hide him. That means you were here already. You heard everything we said about you."

  At those words, one of the men joined her. "You were here?"

  "Yes." This pair were not his friends. Not at all. Rheault let a slow smile overtake his mouth. "Yes, I was here."

  The two backed away from him and headed in different directions. The man left the house. The woman took up a spot in a corner of the room and watched Rheault.

  The evening's host took Rheault's arm. "It's good to have an ally, but how do we get more? Will we have to coerce them?"

  "This human serves of his own will. I Charmed him so he wouldn't know our location, but I haven't done anything to him against his wishes."

  "What happens next?"

  "Next? The beginning of an era. One in which mankind feels safe. We've already begun instilling fear of anything and anyone who isn't pure human. Next, we'll convince them to destroy every record that says we exist. Erase us from their histories and stories. Ending our legends will diminish their fear. Pietas and the other Ultras will be forgotten and we will hide. We'll fade into myth right in their presence."

  The host drew out a chair and gestured for Rheault to sit. He took the seat beside him and leaned in closer. "Did you fix my situation?"

  "Rest assured, your cat problem is in the past. I'm sure your errant design will keep our exiles busy for some time. It cost everything you gave me to get them aboard, but they're gone now and your secret is safe with me."

  "Excellent. I owe you."

  Yes, he did. With what Rheault knew about him, the man would give whatever allegiance was required.

  "But, Rheault, we are going to guide humans, as you said?"

  "Yes. We Ultras will be there in the background. Helping, guiding, directing, and shaping every human decision."

  "Peacefully. We're tired of constant war. We know more than they do, and they need us."

  "Of course. We're benevolent. We won't force humans. We want to guide them." Rheault inclined his head. "And we will. Every single step of humanity's way."

  Chapter Eleven

  Deep space, underway to Sempervia

  One year later

  Pietas came awake to a flashing blue strobe. The light penetrated his eyes and beat into his skull until he wanted to scream. Trapped, unable to move or avoid the light, he listened for Six to explain what was happening. To say something. Anything.

  Three hundred and sixty days underway without food or water, and three months in captivity before that. He could no longer speak. A groan was beyond his power.

  He must be a desiccated husk by now. Why did his brain still work? It refused to let him fall into mindlessness. No, it insisted he be awake and aware of every detail of the horror surrounding him every minute of each and every endless, undying, eternal, infinitely long, miserable gods forsaken day.

  Daily, sometimes hourly, Six told him how far they'd come. How far from Earth. How close they were to Sempervia. Answering the one question Pietas wanted--all right, he'd admit it--needed to know but no longer had the ability to ask.

  Are we there yet?

  Where was Six now? He explained everything that happened. Why hadn't he explained these fiendish strobes? Why hadn't he--

  "Pietas!" Six's voice penetrated the haze of pain.

  Right after the voice, the strobe stopped.

  The darkness and broken silence wrought instant relief, and Pietas sighed in gratitude. He could no longer answer, but Six had told him he'd stopped expecting it. He just talked to him. Story after story of life on Earth. Harsh and without luxury, but a good life. He'd been told so many, Pietas had begun to long for Earth as much as Six did.

  Pietas hadn't missed the fact that in no story or tale had Six given him the name of a place or the name of a relative. It was always titles. The town, the river, the house, the garden, Papa, primo, abuela, abuelo, mi amigo...

  "Pietas! Can you hear me? I hope you can hear me. We're coming in. The planet is dead ahead. It's Sempervia. We're there! We land today. The strobes you're seeing--if you can still see--those are alerts. We're landing!"

  Joy and terror flooded him in equal measure. Joy in the hope this repugnant nightmare might soon end. Terror he'd be marooned on this detestable world but never released, never found. They'd leave him to spend eternity alone in a hellish existence of eternal night.

  No! No. He would be free. He would. Freedom was his birthright. He had not suffered this long to be denied freedom now.

  Every part of his body hurt. Every finger, every toe, every tooth. Every eyelash.

  Hunger no longer ravaged him. Did he even have a stomach anymore? In an earlier stage of hunger, it must have eaten itself. That pain had stopped long ago and moved to every extremity.

  Thirst, however, thirst haunted him, a creature from nightmares.

  Once he got out of this pod, he'd throw himself into a river and drink it dry. Wait, instead, he'd drink some of it and then let the river soak into his bones. He'd never go thirsty. Never be dirty.

  And he would eat. It would be good to have food. Any food would do. Once he found food, he'd stuff his face full. He'd stop being picky. Whatever there was, it would be good enough. He'd never refuse food. He'd break bread with his family every chance he got.

  The thought of family made his heart hurt. He'd hug Dessy, wrap both arms around his mother and never let her go. He'd even hug his father.

  And Six. He'd spend time with Six.

  They would fish, as Six had promised. They'd sit by a river, cast lines, kick back on the bank and watch clouds roll by. He hadn't gone fishing since he was a boy. Fishing with Six at his side sounded like heaven.

  It was true that Six had threatened the sole person Pietas could not and would not lose. Yes, Six had helped capture him. But that had been duty and hadn't Six proven his mettle and his true heart a hundred times since?

  A klaxon sounded. The ship must be going into port.

  Where was Six? Why wasn't he saying anything? Six! Six!

  Reaching out with every vestige of his senses had not enabled Pietas to feel the ghost's presence. Not even at the beginning of the journey, when a bit of strength still lingered. Why should telepathy work now? Their one fluke contact underscored the trifling quality of his skill. He'd struggled to employ this gift all his life, to no avail. The touch of minds was one of his few weak points.

  The ship shook and then jolted as if it were entering the atmosphere.

  A ship big enough to transport a million people would break up on entry. Surely they wouldn't send the ship all the way here, then plow it into the ground. They could have done that on any planet. Or perhaps humans feared Ultras would survive even that and come back if they were inside the traveled space-lanes.

  Another jolt. A deep rattle. Was this a shuttle? Had they loaded him onto a shuttle to land on Sempervia?

  The pod tilted and Pietas slid inside it. Helpless to protect himself, he landed hard against the side. The pod lifted and he had a sense of it being shaken by a mechanical be
ast.

  Where was Six? Was he safe? Was he in a pod? What had they done with Six?

  Six! Six!

  He expected no answer, but he had to try. If they hurt Six, he would eat them first, then food.

  Another hard jolt shifted Pietas inside the pod. It lifted and then began to drop, drop, drop...

  I'm falling!

  A scream tore from him. He hit hard.

  The impact threw him against the pod, smashing his face. Smashing his body.

  The pod rolled.

  Pietas bounced inside it like a pebble in a can.

  The rolling stopped. He lay on his back, breathless, in searing pain. White hot fire shot through his body.

  Once he breathed again, he listened for outside sounds. The silence beat on his ears. No ship sounds. No human sounds. Nothing. Was he in water? Quicksand? Snow? Where had they cast him?

  The miserable cretins had not off-loaded the pod like cargo. They'd dumped it like garbage.

  Letters in dull red light blinked above him, and Pietas focused with effort.

  Press to release.

  With his hands bound behind him, and his body broken, he could not reach. Try as he might, he could not lift his head enough to press it.

  He was off the ship, and on the planet, and still not free.

  He had to get out.

  Out. Out! Out out out out...

  Stop this. Think! You...are...a...warrior. Do not give in to panic. No fear. No fear. A warrior never shows fear.

  There must be a way out.

  He forced his head upward, as far as he could reach. Nothing. His neck bones grated against each other like chalk on concrete.

  He fell back, exhausted.

  There had to be a way out. Some detail he missed. A way out.

  Get me out! Get me out! Please. Please! I have to get out!

  Trapped and broken, shattered by the year of deprivation, Pietas screamed.

  Chapter Twelve

  Light speared Pietas in the eyes. Cold bit into him like tines digging into his skin. Wet air flooded his body.

  A drop of water hit one eye. Another hit his nose. Water? Water was touching his face! Another drop hit his lips.

  Rain!

  His pod had opened. He was out. He was out!

  Pietas opened his mouth, begging for water like a baby bird begging its mother for worms.

  Rain! He was outside and it was raining.

  "I'm here, Pietas. I've got you." Strong arms lifted him.

  It was Six's voice. Six had found him and opened the pod.

  Shame flooded him. He'd panicked like a useless child. He should have trusted Six to find him. The man carried him as if he weighed nothing. The movement screamed pain through every bone. Most of them were broken. He did not complain.

  An Ultra does not seek to escape pain. Pain is a warrior's ally.

  The rain streamed down his face. It trickled into his mouth and cooled his tongue.

  I love rain!

  The sting of wet wind buffeted his face.

  Six put him down and a moment later, the brightness eased and the rain didn't fall as hard. Shelter. Six had put up a shelter. Cloth. Black. Stretched between two sticks.

  Pietas struggled to reach the rain. Feel the water on his face again.

  "Easy! I have water for you." Six sat behind him, holding him up. With one hand, he lifted a tube to Pietas's lips. "Sip it."

  He wanted to cry for joy. The water poured into him and he choked, but he managed to swallow.

  Gray sky. Gray clouds. Rain.

  I love rain! I love clouds!

  The color green suffused everything. Trees. Grass. More trees. Hills and hills of trees, everywhere.

  A big, big tree, huge. Right over there. They were on the planet!

  How he'd missed trees! Missed the feel of ground beneath him. The fresh, clean smell of rain.

  A keening sound invaded his thoughts, pulling him back to the pain of his body.

  Six was crying, repeating words. Soft, whispered words, but with such agony it hurt to hear.

  Pietas needed him to stop, not because he felt the man's pain. His empathic senses failed him. There was nothing left of his body to absorb another person's emotion. He wanted Six to stop because he understood why he cried.

  "I didn't know they kept you bound in there." Six wiped his tears. "I didn't know. Pietas, I'm sorry! I know you can never forgive me, but I'm sorry!"

  Battered as he was, Pietas refused to leave the man in pain. Unable to speak, he leaned his head back on Six's shoulder and rested against him.

  It seemed to help. Six dragged in a shuddering breath. "I swear, I'll do the best I can to make up for it."

  Pietas drew in air, deep, deep, filling his lungs with it. All he wanted. He could take in air as fast he wanted. As deep as he wanted.

  Air! I love air.

  Six's chuckle held pain. "I bet you do, mi amigo. Here. Have some more water." His voice rumbled against Pietas's back. Water trickled into his mouth. "You can't take much yet, but I promise, I'll give you all you want. Have to start slow." Six gave him more. "Let me lean you over and release your hands."

  Six leaned him back again and laid two sticks on Pietas's lap. Why was Six giving him withered branches from a tree? Filthy black rags bundled around each one and each stick ended in stubby points. Five, each with long, curving prongs on the end. With a growing sense of horror, he recognized the shapes of each.

  Hands. Fingers. Thumbs. Nails like claws.

  Those dead, withered sticks were his arms.

  Useless.

  He'd been imprisoned with them behind him for over a year. The sticks jutting out before him were legs. They'd fared no better than his arms. His body had shriveled.

  The clean white and teal uniform had blackened, soaked with sweat and blood and every bit of waste from his body. He must reek like rotted flesh. He no longer had any sense of smell.

  Small blessing.

  The treachery of humans had destroyed his once-perfect body.

  "Pietas." Six crouched beside him, holding him up by propping him against an upraised knee. Six touched him on the chin. "Look at me, not at yourself. Here." Six touched him again and then gestured to his own eyes. "Look at me. You're in bad shape, but I've got you. This may come as a surprise, but you're going to live."

  Even in his current state, Pietas got the joke. He might not laugh, but he couldn't argue the irony.

  His legs. What had they done to his legs? No part of him moved.

  "Pietas." Six touched Pietas on the cheek. "Me. Look at me, amigo, not at yourself. Focus on me."

  Focus. He could focus. He had discipline. He could pay attention. He could. This world had no horizons. Green was everywhere. Trees. There were trees! The entire world was green and it was raining.

  I love rain!

  "Si, Pietas. The rain is good, but look at me, mi amigo. Focus."

  Those two words grabbed his attention. Mi amigo. My friend. Six had called him his friend.

  "Pietas, you're going to be all right. I have liquid food. It's all they give us ghosts. Supposed to make us live longer. I'm going to give you some and then give you more water. Let you rest a bit. Afterward I'll carry you down by the creek and we'll clean up. You're taller than me, but I think my clothes will fit you. I have a set of clothes in my survival pack. I parachuted in with it."

  Parachute. Six had parachuted in. Of course. They'd dumped him too. He was an outcast, same as Pietas.

  So tired. He closed his eyes.

  "Stay with me, Pietas!"

  He opened his eyes, caught the beauty of green, of soft gray light. I love rain!

  "Here, Pietas. Have some more water."

  He drank. Discipline. He must maintain discipline. A calm mind. A warrior is always in control. He must focus.

  "Drink more. There you go. Good job. No wonder you Ultras are so terrifying in battle. I can see you healing already."

  Green light filled his vision. Trees towered in the dist
ance, dotting green hills. A creek meandered through the valley and flowers made bright spots of color. He inhaled the fresh scent of rain. How he loved rain! Glorious rain. Water, free from the sky, touching everything.

  "Here. Drink this. It's food. Liquid food."

  It touched his lips, spread across his tongue and Pietas drank.

  Six paused a moment and then tilted the tube again.

  Tasteless liquid flooded Pietas's mouth and he cherished its softness against his tongue and teeth.

  "This stuff is high in calories and protein. It doesn't taste like food, but it'll keep you alive. I'm not giving you much this time, but I will give you more. I promise."

  Liquid entered his mouth and Pietas let it trickle into his throat. Heat flushed his body as it consumed the nutrients. An Ultra's body seized food and liquid and transformed it with scant waste.

  The heat grew into a flame scorching every breath. Pietas convulsed as every cell within him burst. Rebirth took his breath, robbed what strength remained. Healing consumed the small portion of food he'd eaten, and demanded more.

  He had no idea how much time had passed before he became aware he was on the ground, his head on Six's lap. He lifted his head, but fell back.

  "You want help sitting up?" Six aided him, and moved him so Pietas could see Six's face. "We're going to need more food to fatten you up again, but look at you! You're halfway healed. No wonder you Ultras are so hard to kill. Ready for more?"

  The tube touched his lips. Pietas sucked the liquid into his mouth, and choked.

  "Easy! Don't try to gulp. Sip." Six supported his back. "Have some more."

  Pietas sipped. The liquid cooled and then burned as his body absorbed it.

  Rebuilding himself from this emaciated shell would take four things. Work. Discipline. Time. Suffering.

  Pietas had never shied away from the first. He'd lived his entire unending life with the second. Immortals had plenty of the third. And as for the last...

  Pain was a warrior's ally.

  If he could endure the suffering he'd experienced these last fifteen months, he could endure whatever else life--or fate--threw his way.

  None of that mattered. He was off that accursed ship.