by Lisa Beeson
Dissident
Book 4 in the Transcendent series
By Lisa Beeson
This is a work of fiction. All the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel either are products of the imagination or are used fictitiously.
Cover photo credit: ©[ Igor Zhuravlov]/123RF.COM
Copyright: jankovoy / 123RF Stock Photo
Text copyright © 2016 Lisa Beeson
All right reserved
For Maria Rodgers. Thank you for all of your help.
Prologue
One year ago…
He never thought that he would ever come back to this place.
Now that he was here, however, he found that without them it was nothing more than a setting for the memories that haunted his dreams. Everything that had once delighted his senses now tore at his heart with an unrelenting sting.
He had thought that after T’leh had died, the parts of this world that she had created would disappear with her. The eternal cycle of creation and destruction could not be denied, not even here. Without her will to maintain them, her creations should have broken down to their original state and returned to the Aethos. Even his own creations remained, though his will to maintain them had broken along with his heart.
Everything was just as it had been – a memorial to their hidden life together; knife in his heart.
“Lioran,” called a familiar voice behind him.
With a flare of rage, he was tempted to strike against the man whose machinations had caused him so much pain and torment. But the fact that he had just come from his lost daughter’s dream, and had held her in his arms – a daughter he never would have fathered had it not been for the Xjaamin – forced him to reconsider and stayed his hands. He chafed at having been so manipulated by the man, but he could never trade what he had with T’leh and Sennah for an easier life.
“I am pleased that you accepted the invitation,” the Xjaamin said in Lioran’s Thale dialect, knowing that he preferred it to Common speech.
Lioran turned away from the painfully evocative vista to face the Xjaamin. “You knew that my child was still alive.”
The Xjaamin tilted his head in assent.
Bitterness rose up like bile in his throat. Whatever Sennah was to the Xjaamin, she was his flesh and blood child, and he had the right to know of if she was dead or alive. “Then why did you not let me know?”
“You know why.”
Of course Lioran knew why, her safety was paramount. The fewer who knew about her existence the safer she’d be. However, he was her father, and he couldn’t help feeling resentful of the heart-rending torment he had gone through. His only consolation was that he was able to read the barest hint of surprise in the Xjaamin’s eyes. He was curious as to how Lioran was certain she was alive.
“You did not know that she just called out to me in her sleep? That she was able to bring me into her dream…?”
The Xjaamin’s lack of response was answer enough.
Lioran felt a swell of satisfaction in the fact that he finally knew something that the Xjaamin did not. “She called to me and helped me to find her, even though she was so far away. I could not have done it on my own. Though she did not remember my appearance or the sound of my voice, something happened that caused her to call out for the comfort she innately knew my presence could give her…” Saying it aloud made Lioran take pause, she had been old enough to remember me when she disappeared from Emuria. What caused her to forget?
It tore at his heart to think of her on her own, lost and afraid, not knowing who or what she was. His beautiful miracle child that was so full of love, innocence, and promise. What has she become without the love of her family and the guidance of those carefully chosen to teach her?
“Trust in me…” the Xjaamin urged, reading Lioran’s unguarded thoughts. “Trust in her.”
Lioran knew that the Xjaamin would do what was ultimately best for Sennah. He had done too much to ensure her existence and survival to fail her now. However, he couldn’t help wondering what the cruelties of life have done to her. What has she had to unleash out of desperation? There was so much destruction at that marketplace…
Seeing the torment in Lioran’s heart, the Xjaamin relented. “This place remains as it is because of her,” he said, gesturing to the world around them. He stepped closer to place a comforting hand on Lioran’s shoulder. “Whether she consciously remembers it or not, it is still an essential part of her that she has not let go. Just as she has not let you go.” The Xjaamin made sure Lioran was looking him in his silver eyes so he would be able to see the pride in them. “She is everything we hoped for her to be and more. She has grown strong and true.”
Startled by the Xjaamin’s use of his own words to his daughter, Lioran still felt the truth of it. He sighed in relief as he allowed hope to take root and blossom in his chest once more – hope long trodden under the despair of loss and the tyrannical reign of the Anu’Kainat. Not only did he need Sennah to grow strong and true, but all of Anu needed her to help fix what was diseased and broken. He and a select few had been trying to combat the rampant injustice with subversive tactics, but with her potential power, they could actually cleanse the Anu’Kainat of the blight of corruption. They could finish what T’leh had started.
“She is almost ready to return to Anu, Lioran. And when she does, she will need an army behind her,” said the Xjaamin. “It is time for you to rise up and bring the dissenters of Anu together under one banner.”
Even though the thought of his daughter’s return made his heart rejoice, the task the Xjaamin asked of him was impossible. Consul Prai has weaved his webs of manipulations too deftly – playing on the old grudges and prejudices that ran so deeply between the races. How could Lioran possibly convince them to unite and fight against the only thing they think is keeping the tenuous peace and prosperity throughout the galaxy?
Yet, as he scanned the world around them, the world his daughter somehow kept alive, he thought about all the impossible things she has accomplished just by existing.
He swore to the Aethos Eternal that he would not fail her again.
Lioran met the Xjaamin’s steady gaze. “When she is ready to lead…her army will be ready to follow.”
Chapter 1
Present Day…
Dr. Schweinhardt’s white-clad thugs dragged Val’s limp and battered body between them into her cell. Without a word, they carelessly tossed her onto the hard shelf that served as her “bed” now. It was the only other feature in the sparse, olive green, windowless room besides the toilet on the back wall, and the metal drain in the middle of the tiled floor – its gruesome function was best not thought about. There was no more comfort of a soft hospital bed. She was being punished.
Every part of her was screaming in throbbing pain. She held in the groan that fought to escape as she landed hard on the unyielding shelf-bed. They had stopped drugging her, so she felt everything they had done to her with a stark clarity.
Ignoring the involuntary tears leaking from her eyes, she managed to lift her hand and shakily extend her middle finger at the thugs as they exited the room. As soon as the door closed and locked behind them, she spat out the blood filling her mouth from a cut on the inside of her cheek, then gingerly wiped away the tears streaking down her battered face. Her left eye hurt something fierce, and the vision was disconcertingly blurry and speckled with floaters. She closed it as a pathetic means to ignore the burning pain and the worry simmering in the pit of her stomach.
Every day since Schweinhardt had shaved Val’s head he had insisted on interrogating her. Most of the questions were about Ari.
Whether Val knew the answers to his questions or not, she had made it seem like
she did, but just refused to answer him. She wasn’t stupid, she knew that it was the thought of her having key information that kept them from killing her. She was counting on it. Biding her time and gaining her own intel from their questions so that she could use it against them in the future.
She had taught herself early on in life to listen to the things behind the words people said to see what they truly wanted. It had become an ingrained habit to zero in on people’s insecurities so that she could use it as a weapon to hurt them before they could hurt her.
These people had no clue where Ari was or why she had left Scion’s Keep. They thought Val was working with some terrorist group, which meant that these terrorists must have been giving them trouble. Good. Schweinhardt had an inferiority complex that he over compensated for by trying to gain power. His position and/or job depended on the information Val gave to him, which could be a useful tool. But he was also afraid of failure and was willing to do anything to get at Ari, which was bad for Val – very bad.
Until today, Val had taken her beatings like a good little soldier, not giving them anything useful. The only words she spoke were nasty jabs at Schweinhardt – or “pig-lover” as she liked to call him – to keep his ego in check. But it seemed they were quickly running out of time and patience. This was why they had moved on from open backhands to full-blown punches with closed fists.
When Schweinhardt had not stopped the thugs after a few blows, Val was scared that her big mouth had finally gone too far. Scared that they had figured out she was useless to them. Scared that they wouldn’t stop until she was dead. Her primal instinct to survive had overridden her wish to keep Ari safe, and her traitorous mouth let it slip that Ari had left Scion’s Keep to save Val from the demons. She told them that Ari disappeared right after healing her from the effects of the drug the demons had given her.
Thankfully, he had not believed her. He had written it off as just the desperate ravings of a broken girl. With a disappointed nod from Schweinhardt, the thugs had mercifully stopped pummeling her and brought her back to her cell.
To distract herself from her pain and self-loathing for being so weak, Val’s mind wandered. She wondered if Ari been able to take on the demons. Had they possessed her like they had tried to do to Val? Was she able to get back to Scion’s Keep? Was she even still alive?
Alvaro’s words echoed in her mind: Heaven help you if anything happens to her because of you…
Val had to survive this and escape to find the answers to these questions. Then maybe once she found Ari, they could join up with the terrorists that these goons were so afraid of, and help them take this place down. That was the goal that she was fighting for now.
Trying to find a more comfortable position to rest her head that didn’t aggravate the welts and bruises on her shorn scalp, she glimpsed the phantom sitting in the back corner of the room. When they were keeping her drugged, the phantom usually only appeared as a diaphanous human-shaped blur. At first, Val had barely registered the occasional appearance, figuring that she had conjured it in her drugged haze to keep herself from feeling so alone. Now however, even though her mind was clear of chemicals, the illusion was not only back, it was in even greater detail. The phantom was decidedly pale, blonde, and female. She was even wearing the same stupid paper-thin, bubblegum-pink, jumpsuit they forced Val to wear.
Scared that her mind had finally cracked beyond repair, Val closed her good eye and began quietly humming her medley of go-to show tunes.
Thanks to the manic obsession of Val’s first foster mother with anything Broadway, musicals had been Val’s escape since she was a small child. They helped transport her to a special place in her mind where, with the right song paired with the right lyrics, no challenge was too difficult to overcome. They took her to a beautiful world splashed with brilliant light and color where she could be her true self – a place that was hers and hers alone. It was a place where nothing could hurt her. The music gave her a sense of safety and inner fortitude that nothing else could.
“I never would have pegged you as the show tune type,” a strained and slightly fuzzy female voice said. It sounded as though she was trying to talk over a radio station with bad reception. The sound seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.
Even though every breath was agony, Val hummed louder to drown the voice out. She suspected that she had a couple bruised and broken ribs among her numerous other injuries. Damn you pig-lover and your brain-less, ham-fisted thugs…
“You’re not imagining me,” the hallucination said. “I’m a real person. I’m really here. Well… sort of.”
Unable to continue humming due to the pain, Val reluctantly opened her right eye to see that the blonde was now sitting against the wall across from her. Now that Val was observing her more closely, she noticed that the woman’s face had a strained expression to match her voice – as though she was exerting a massive amount of concentrated effort to maintain her insubstantial presence. She was waif thin and looked to be somewhere in her mid-twenties. Even though Val had never seen this woman beyond this room, there was something familiar about her features that she couldn’t quite place.
Val panted out between shallow gasps, “What d’you mean… ‘sort of’ here? …Are’ya some kinda ghost?” She barely moved her split and swollen lips so that the surveillance camera on the ceiling wouldn’t catch her talking to the wall. She did not want to give the scum-sucking monsters the satisfaction of knowing that her mind had actually cracked.
The blonde smirked. “No, I’m not a ghost. Not yet, anyway.” She gave a quick spiteful glance up towards the soulless black eye of the camera. “What you see is an astral projection of my consciousness. My body is actually in the room next door,” she said with a small jerk of her head towards the wall behind her. “I’ve trained myself to bypass the pain of the chip to use my ability.”
“If you’re real… then why didn’t they …see you,” Val discreetly flicked her eyes towards the door where the thugs had just exited.
“Because I didn’t want them to,” the blonde said, as though it was obvious.
Well, of course, Val thought as she let out a sarcastic huff of laughter, and was immediately rewarded with a sharp twinge of pain.
The blonde continued to stare at Val in expectant silence.
Fine. Why the hell not…, Val thought with a resigned internal sigh. It was better to believe that she was talking to an “astral projection” than admit that she had gone insane. What else was there to do anyway – anything to keep her mind off the pain.
“Why d’you want me…t’see you?” Val asked.
The effort for the woman to overcome the electro-shock from the chip surgically inserted in the back of her neck was obviously causing her a lot of pain. Val had accidently shocked herself a couple times trying to use her ability against her captors, and she knew the pain was nothing to mess around with.
“Because I want you to know that you’re not alone.”
Val internally winced. That was almost exactly what Ari had said to her back at Scion’s Keep. How would things have turned out if I had just accepted Ari’s help when she first offered it…?
“Why… d’you care?” Val threw back acidly, trying to mask the fierce pain and regret in her heart.
“I care because you’re like me,” the blonde said with a conspiratorial smirk. “You have an iron core protecting a survivor’s spirit. You have the grit to do what needs to be done.”
“You don’t know me,” Val scoffed. “We’re nothin’ alike.”
“Why,” the blonde asked. “…Because your suffering is so special and unique that no one could possibly have the capacity to empathize or understand you? We don’t have time for your moody, teen angst, Val. I need your help.”
And there it is… Val thought bitterly. Ari had been the only one to want to help Val for Val’s sake. Everyone else just wanted something from her.
“Go away.” Val closed her eye against the ever-present glare of the o
verhead lights, as if she was going to try to sleep. It wasn’t worth all the pain the blonde was putting herself through to try to get Val’s help. Even if she wanted to, Val couldn’t help anyone in her present condition anyway. She could barely breathe, and the skin around her left eye was tightening with fierce throbbing pain.
“I know that the pain you’re feeling now is horrendous, but it’s only going to get worse from here.”
Val abandoned the pretense of sleep and opened her good eye to see the genuine worry on the blonde’s face.
“I overheard them talking. The first phase is over. Now they’re going to try to break you down mentally.”
Well, it must be working…I’m already talking to hallucinations…
“Trust me, Val. I know their M.O. They’re going to try to convince you that they’re the good guys and that everything that’s happening to you is somehow your fault.”
Pfft…, Val thought with a sneer. Good guys don’t beat up teenage girls.
“They’ll use your past against you by twisting it to mislead and confuse you. You can’t let them. With control over your ability they could do a lot of damage and hurt a lot of innocent people.”
Using her painful memories against her sounded an awful lot like what the demons had tried to do to get her to give up her body to them. If she could overcome a demon possession, then she could take on these chumps no problem. I am no one’s puppet.
The blonde must have read the scornful defiance on Val’s face. “This is serious, Val. They can plant a thought, a command, or a false memory into your mind to manipulate you or make you into one of their dead-eyed drones. All for the ‘greater good of the Cause.’”
“Why didn’t they just…do that first?” Val wheezed, skeptical. “…Why’d they bother…asking me questions… beating me… if they could just… control my mind?”
“Because most of the time people either buy into their so-called ‘Great Cause’, or they quickly cave from the torture. Sometimes even the threat of torture is enough. They leave the mind tampering to the special cases. It takes a lot of combined effort to accomplish something like that successfully. The mind is a tricky thing to traverse without causing permanent damage.” Her eyes darted away for a second as if she was remembering something distasteful. “Especially with someone as stubbornly defiant as you, they only want you compliant not catatonic.”
