He was free. Free!
He had Six beside him. A man who had proven his loyalty every day. Who had given friendship when they had been enemies. A man who had no reason to stay with him. He could have let Pietas rot and gone anywhere on this virgin world. Lived his life.
Instead, Six had opened that pod and gotten him out. A man who even now sat here, sheltering him. Helping him. Feeding him. Nursing him back to health.
A human who had once been his enemy. Who was now his friend.
His friend--his amigo--had set him free.
Chapter Thirteen
Pietas must have fallen asleep, because he woke with a start. He took quick stock of himself and his surroundings. Black parachute cloth arched above him, flapping in a gentle breeze. The rain had stopped and there was sun. A few scattered clouds. Still no movement in his extremities. Limited movement in his neck. No feeling anywhere. He tried speaking. Not even a croak.
Under the same stretch of cloth, Six sat cross-legged, thumbing through a notebook. He glanced up and set the notes aside. "You look better. You ready for water?"
Without waiting for a reply, Six brought him a tube and held it while Pietas sipped.
"Good job. You didn't choke this time. You look less shrunken. Let's get some food in you and then we'll both clean up." He brought out another tube, broke off the cap, and held it for him. "Slow and steady. There we go. Good job." He propped an elbow on one thigh and held the tube while Pietas sipped the nutrient. "You had multiple fractures from the fall, but your bones set fine all by themselves. Your face was bad when I opened the pod. Nose all squished and off to the side. Jaw broken. Cheekbones crushed. Skull fractured. When you looked up at me..." He gave a long whistle. "All I saw was blackened skin against the black background of the pod and two huge turquoise eyes staring." He brushed away a gleam of tears.
Were those tears...for him? Humans cried because of him. Not for him.
"Man, Pietas. I can't believe how fast you're healing. All your bones are where they belong. I wish I healed like you do."
Pietas had wondered what it would be like to feel pain for more than a few minutes. To feel pain that didn't end.
The pod had shown him that.
Was that what it felt like to be human? He'd learned long ago they feared pain. Would do anything to avoid it. To avoid death. Threaten torture and most humans caved. Most surrendered anything they knew as soon as they saw the first tool of torture. Some managed to withhold until they were injured. Most talked. Not all, but enough to make it worthwhile. He used torture if it shortened the wait for information, but never to be cruel. He had no compunctions about killing, but unless they threatened him or his mission, he had let humans live.
He wouldn't do that anymore. From now on, he'd make them beg for death.
On him, torture had no effect.
Pietas had taught himself, disciplined himself never to fear pain. To welcome it. Invite it. Embrace it. Make pain and death a regular part of his life. Whatever frightened him, he ran toward. Pain was joy. He conquered it. Made it his lover. Made it his own. Absorbed it into himself.
When you fear nothing, nothing is a threat.
Now? Did he fear pain now? Pietas mulled that. Well, he no longer had to wonder about pain that didn't end. He'd experienced it.
Conquered it.
Did he want to repeat it?
He finished the food and took a long, satisfying breath of clean air.
Not if he could avoid it. But dying every day for a year would be a good exercise for his soldiers. If you survived that kind of peril, you'd survive anything. And no threat the enemy brought would be worse than what he could do to them.
He'd have to give that some serious thought. Maybe train them that way, one soldier at a time. Teach them to embrace death the way he did. An army of soldiers like that...the galaxy could not stop.
"You good?" Six touched Pietas's shoulder.
He nodded once.
"Okay. Ready for a bath? I'm going to put my arms beneath your knees and behind your shoulders and lift you. Need to get you out from under this overhang and then I'll stand up. Ready?"
Pietas blinked to show he understood.
Six picked him up, moved back and then stood without strain. He carried him down a slope and around a grouping of trees, into a clearing.
Pietas heard the water before he could see it. The stream came into view all at once. Shallow, with a deeper section on the right, it flowed over smooth stones and burbled over big rocks. A tree trunk had fallen into the stream and moss grew along its edges. Thick yellow flowers clustered atop where the decaying trunk met the mirror-like surface. Where the creek flowed deeper, on the other side, reeds poked out.
"There's a short waterfall upstream." Six jerked his head in that direction. "You can't see it from here. I scouted while you were asleep." He knelt beside the water. "It's deeper here by this circle of stones and the water's warmer. The sun's been shining on it." He placed Pietas on a reflective blanket. "I brought a shirt, pants and some paracord down here. You'll need the cord to tie on the pants till you gain some weight. No towels, but I brought an extra undershirt to dry off with." He reached past Pietas to the water, cupped a handful. "I drank some earlier. Taste this." He brought it to Pietas's mouth.
Clear, cool, clean. It had a faint aftertaste of wood and moss. Another taste surfaced that had to be Six. Mild, masculine, not unpleasant.
"It's cold in the water. Shall we do legs first?"
He doubted the chill would make much difference, but perhaps better to take it slow. He blinked.
"I had tools in my survival pack. Folding handle I can use with a shovel, pick, or axe head. Several other things. I'm amazed they let me keep them when they shoved me out of the shuttle."
They'd shoved him out? Someone had dared to force one of his men to-- Pietas caught himself. Six was not his. He owed no loyalty. Had sworn him no oath.
Not yet.
"Let me cut these clothes off you. They're ruined."
"Good...riddance." Broken and scratchy, but getting his voice back was like taking a step off the high dive into the pool. Exhilarating.
Six grinned at him. "Welcome back."
"Missed...words."
"I've missed having an answer when I talk." He smiled, but then sobered. "I'm showing you my knife. Let me take it out of its holster."
It hung at his side and he released it, then placed it on his palms.
The full tang blade was black with teal trim. Those colors embellished the uniforms worn by Pietas's troops. The serious end was a good five, five and a half inches, Terran. The same length took up the handle. It curved to fit the hand and had a butt shaped for hitting. Pietas had often carried one. You could pound with it. If no other weapon was handy, with the right angle and the kind of force an Ultra could wield, it would bash in the brains of an enemy. The blade had a mild drop point, serrations that began halfway down and looked thick enough to do good work around a campsite. Not the best for skinning or gutting. A solid defensive knife if attacked and not what you'd carry for attack, but Six could have used it to kill him permanently while he was asleep. Cut him up and burned him. Ghost Division had been trained to kill Ultras.
Pietas looked him straight in the eyes. "You--" he coughed "--did not kill me."
"One warrior to another, I'm pledging I won't use this weapon, or any other, to do you harm."
"Why?"
"Back there, back home, it was my duty to kill you. That's not my duty any more."
"What now?"
"My duty is survival."
"You think...that buys your life?"
Head down, Six remained still for a long moment, the knife on his outstretched hands. At last, he looked up, mouth in a straight line. "I spent the last year finding out who you are. What I was taught about you doesn't jive with the man I've come to know. You're not a mindless killer. You have more courage than anyone I've ever met and more honor than ten men. After what I did to you, if you wa
nted to kill me, I wouldn't blame you." He gave a firm shake of his head. "But I will not kill you, Pietas."
"You show your enemy mercy?"
Six squinted at him. "I give no mercy to enemies. You are not my enemy."
"Good. Put my palm on the blade."
Six did as asked, holding the knife in his other hand as he did so.
The blackened, clawed fingers might have belonged to some alien, but the cold metal against his palm sent a jolt through Pietas. It was the first sensation he'd had in a long time.
Putting the hand of an Ultra on a knife displayed a level of trust Pietas had never expected to see from a human. Even an already-dead one.
"On my honor, I will not kill you." His voice grated, but he continued. "My people will not kill you." Pietas cracked a smile. "Bears and wolves...no control."
Six laughed. "Fair enough. Let's get started on cleaning you up. No offense, Ultra, but you smell."
Chapter Fourteen
The cool bath refreshed. Pietas tried to see his reflection in the water, but Six tossed a rock, creating ripples.
"Trust me, Ultra. You're not ready to see yourself yet." He brought out a metal box and opened it. "Plain soap. Scrap of cloth. You'll be clean before you know it." Six lathered the soap and gently scrubbed Pietas's face.
His body was sinew and bones, dark everywhere. It would take many baths to soak off the embedded grime. After Six bathed him, Pietas rested on the blanket. Six dried him and worked his uncooperative arms and legs into the clothes.
Mortifying to be so helpless. He hadn't been this useless since he was an infant.
The ordeal of movement and cold exhausted him. He dozed and woke to find himself clothed, dry and warm.
"Ready for a manicure?" Six used the knife to pare the claws on Pietas's hands and feet. As he had on board the ship, he passed the time with tales.
How many were fanciful stories and how many true? Pietas doubted he would ever know. It didn't matter. He could rest his throat and learn more about this ghost. The thought that he no longer gathered intel in order to kill him was unsettling at first. How long since he'd listened to someone without thinking how he could use the information to his advantage? Since he'd listened to enjoy a story?
This time, when Six told a bawdy story, Pietas laughed aloud.
Six grinned at him, threw back his head and laughed along.
The ghost cleaned up the area. He put the bar of soap back in its box and withdrew a metal comb. "This comb is also a magnet and it's strong, but it's not getting through that rat's nest. I can take care of it, if you don't mind a haircut with a blade."
The last haircut he'd had, at Dessy's hand, had been with a blade. Then, he'd thought he would trust no one else near his neck with a sharp weapon. For Six, he did not hesitate. "Please."
The knife sawed through his wet hair faster than Pietas's dagger. And didn't that tell a story all by itself?
"You okay for a few minutes while I grab a quick swim? Wash off some of this dirt?"
"Yes." He soaked up the sun. The reflective blanket warmed beneath him.
Six stripped. Like most soldiers, he showed no concern about baring his body. However confined he'd been on board the ship, he'd kept up with exercise. The ghost turned and waded down into the water.
Spread across Six's entire back was a tattoo of a mythical beast, teal outlined in black. Wings unfurled. Claws out. Fangs bared.
A dragon.
The sense of destiny coming full circle hit with the impact of a tornado slamming into a shack.
Pietas thought about the dragon while Six finished bathing.
At last, the ghost picked up his shirt and began drying himself. He dressed and came back up the slope. "Okay. Let's get you back to camp to rest and I'll fish. I'm ready for some solids and I think you could handle some tomorrow. Ready?"
"Ready."
Six picked him up.
"You like teal."
"What?" Six tossed wet hair out of his eyes.
"The color. Teal. Turquoise."
"Turq-- Oh! You saw my dragon. Took a lot of visits to complete that."
"Why?"
"It's the detail. They draw the outline first, and then--"
"No, why a dragon? Why teal?"
They'd reached camp, and one end of the parachute cloth had pulled loose. It flapped in the wind.
Six put Pietas down, and began refastening the cloth. "Dragons are primal. They're protectors. They represent courage. Teal because it's the color of sky and sea. It's heavenly energy. Pure. You ever get a tattoo?"
"Ultras could never keep them."
"Oh, right, forgot. Tattoos tell you about a person. Who they are, where they belong. Some, who they belong to."
Pietas smiled. "Yes. They do."
Six fed Pietas, and gave him half a tube of water. After draping a jacket over him, he headed off to fish, whistling.
Lying there, sheltered, clean, warm, not thirsty, not hungry, Pietas let himself drift toward sleep.
The sudden thought that he had done nothing to find and reconnect with his family or his people jerked him awake. Guilt crashed over him in a tidal wave.
He had given his mother not one thought. He had sacrificed everything for her, and now that he was free, he hadn't considered her safety. What kind of son was he? What kind of brother? His family was on the planet, and he had ignored them.
As soon as Six came back, he'd ask him to explore. Surely, his family and the others were close. No hint of emotions had reached him, but in his depleted state, he couldn't even sense the emotions of Six, right next to him.
Perhaps all he needed was rest. Yes, that was it. Rest. With rest, he'd be fine. Back to one hundred percent. His old self. Perfect.
Pietas tried to push himself up, but his arms and body refused to cooperate. That failed, so he tried turning onto his side, but could not force any part of himself off the blanket. Helplessness made him flail mentally. He panted from exertion, as ineffective as a slug.
The shame of being incapacitated stung worse than any punishment his father had ever meted out. No battle wound had ever been so mortifying. His body had been ruined, and his abilities as well. The most powerful and gifted of all the Ultras rendered helpless. Impotent. Useless as a--
Pietas stopped himself from even thinking the word.
His father's voice came to him as if in a dream. Mahikos had been talking to Helia, referring to Pietas and Dessy. Had he thought they could not hear? Or had he not cared?
"If anyone finds them, they'll be destroyed. We'll be destroyed. They have to be hidden. Kept out of sight. You can't take them outside, Helia!"
Huddling in another room, Pietas and Dessy clung to one another. They were no more than three years old. "Don't listen, Dess. I won't let anyone hurt you." He covered his sister's ears with his hands.
In another room, their mother argued for their freedom. "Mahikos, our children need sunlight. The books say children won't grow without fresh air and sunshine. We have to risk it."
"We don't know anything about children except for those books you keep reading. They were written for human children, not Ultras."
"There are no Ultra children! Mahikos, please. They need this."
"It will endanger everything we've worked for."
"But they need it. I need it. Please, Mahikos. Let us see the sun."
"These children will be killed, and all we've fought for will be gone. They'll destroy us! We'll both be killed. These children are useless! Worthless as mortals."
How many times had Pietas spouted that same rhetoric? Useless as a child. Worthless as a mortal.
He hated and despised his father. How had he become him?
Chapter Fifteen
Six refused to look for the other Ultras, so Pietas went back over the instructions.
The ghost had the audacity to continue to refuse.
"How can you not do this? What if my family and the council members are in the same shape I was in? Trapped, helpless
and injured?"
"No, no, and no." Six sat cross-legged by the fire, filet knife in hand, scraping scales off a fish. The fire sparked as the scales hit. "I'm not looking for your people. Look," he gestured at him with the knife, "you promised not to kill me. Not them. And to clarify, when it comes down to who ain't killing who, I promised not to kill you. Them? They're another story."
A hint of heat tingled against Pietas's face and then a deeper warmth. Were his empathic senses returning, or was that the fire? "You are afraid." It sounded more accusatory than he'd intended.
Six glared at him. "Of course I am! You think I'm an idiot? I'm the only human on Sempervia. You know what a bunch of Ultras are gonna do if a human walks into camp? Nope." He spread his hands, the dead fish flopping as he did. "Not going. You get better and I'll go with you, but I ain't going alone."
"I can't believe you."
"Sorry to disappoint." In one slice, he split the fish and then gutted it. He tossed the guts into the flames.
"You evince no sorrow whatsoever."
Six speared him with a dark look. "Evince? That some Naro swear word?"
"It's standard Etymis everyone speaks, ghost. It means to express. Empaths read the emotions that others evince."
"Fine. I don't evince any sorrow. Not one bit sorry about not taking on such a harebrained mission. Look what happened to the last one I accepted." He threaded the fish onto a long stick. "I might be dead, but I'm an animated dead, thank you. I intend to stay that way."
Pietas shut his eyes, jaws clenched. If he could heal faster by focusing anger, he'd have shot straight to good-as-new.
While Six worked on a second fish, Pietas considered what other tacks to try. The ghost was all about duty. "I'm accustomed to obedience from my men."
Six's mouth twisted into a wry grin. "Two things I'm starting to regret right now." He did not continue.
Pietas prompted him. "Such as?"
"One, that I didn't go AWOL when I heard about the mission to capture you."
Curiosity won over and he broke the silence. "And the second?"
"That you got your voice back."
Bringer of Chaos- The Origin of Pietas Page 8
