by A. K. DuBoff
“Precisely. You have answered your own question.”
But I haven’t. What am I missing? She tended to think of herself as a smart, perceptive person, but Oren’s line of reasoning was escaping her. Worse, he clearly expected her to arrive at the answer on her own. If she didn’t, that might end any aspirations of advancing within the Alliance on the spot.
There was one option. The risk hadn’t been worth considering before, but the conditions were as perfect as they might ever be. He’s thinking about it right now. We’re alone, no distractions… She could glean the answers from his mind without needing to dig around. He’d never know.
Still, it was dangerous. She could see something else she wasn’t supposed to know about, and then she’d need to pretend she was in the dark. It was why she was always so reluctant to use her Gifts; she’d been burned before by glimpsing secrets that had made her life unravel. Not to mention what might happen to her if she was found out.
The moment stretched on. She needed to respond to him.
Shite, it’s now or never. As gently as she could, she reached out to glean the thoughts floating on the surface of Oren’s mind.
She was met with a strong, clear narrative. Oren had formed the answer he was hoping to hear from Lexi: High Dynasties controlled the flow of information and resources to all Tarans. Their role was so integral to the fabric of society that one misstep could spell disaster. Trust was a necessity. All that was needed was to sow the seeds of doubt at an opportune time—such as during an unexpected port lockdown due to a security threat. Tie those feelings of worry to a specific target through careful messaging, and people would start asking questions. The Alliance was aiming for the top of the chain—to Sietinen itself. The Dynasty behind the revolution that had freed Tarans from the tyranny of the Priesthood. But, perhaps, it was all a ruse to claim absolute power for themselves.
It was so simple, Lexi was disappointed that she didn’t see it for herself. So, it wasn’t about the rally or the posters, but about capitalizing on the emotion of outside events and linking those to the messaging. Those emotions could be layered with time, building people into a frenzy.
Lexi rephrased and condensed the thoughts into a response for Oren, “Undermine the trust in the corporation, and the family’s political power is on the line.”
He smiled. “Yes. You understand.”
And she did, at least in terms of the logic Oren and his collaborators had used. The problem was, she wasn’t sure she agreed with their conclusion. Is disrupting the stability of the Empire’s infrastructure really the best way to have our voices heard?
Ultimately, it didn’t matter. She hadn’t joined the Alliance to further their mission; she was with them because it was the only lead she had to follow. She needed to stay the course. No matter how long it took or how deeply entrenched she needed to become, she wouldn’t stop until she found out what had happened to Melisa.
CHAPTER 8
Though the previous night’s festivities had been a welcome reprieve from everyday stresses, Wil awoke in the morning anxious to get to the mission at hand. He and Saera ate a quick breakfast before meeting up with the others to plan out the day’s adventuring in the depths of the island.
“I think it’s just going to be the three of us,” Cris informed him when they arrived.
Wil wasn’t surprised Raena had bowed out. After her experience with the Priesthood, going through the underground lab areas would no doubt dredge up painful memories best left buried. She’d tough it out, without hesitation, if her presence was critical, but there was no compelling reason for her to go. He respected that she felt comfortable establishing those boundaries.
“Mom, don’t want to get in on the fun?” he asked.
Kate chuckled. “Digging through dusty chambers in a creepy basement? Not my style.”
Three people were sufficient to tackle the task at hand, so Wil didn’t press the point. “All right, Dad, we’re ready when you are.”
Cris smiled. “Let’s do it.”
Walking through the high-ceilinged corridors together, Wil remembered his first visit to the isle with his father at the age of sixteen. It was the first time he’d seen his father’s negotiating prowess in action, as they set the licensing terms for Wil’s independent jump drive design. But the most intriguing part of the visit had been when they spotted an entryway to the underground depths of the monastery. They’d known something terribly wrong was going on down there, but it wasn’t until decades later that they’d learned the horrific truth.
It was through that same doorway they now traveled. Wil knew now that the elevator shaft was one of several leading into the underground structure, and this was the most centrally located. The door was loosely blocked off with an arrangement of potted plants, and Wil made a careful telekinetic sweep to clear their path.
“How long has it been since anyone went down here?” Saera asked as they entered the elevator.
“At least four years,” Wil replied. “Unless some of Raena and Ryan’s people have gone.”
“Pretty unlikely,” Cris said. “They try to keep that part of history out of their everyday lives.”
Wil nodded. “As they should.”
“We got so lucky they escaped back then,” Saera murmured.
Cris shook his head. “Not just luck. Those two are fighters.”
It had been the single most terrifying night of Wil’s life when his daughter was kidnapped, along with Ryan, and brought to the underground labs toward which the elevator was now descending. It was only thanks to Raena’s exceptional telekinetic abilities that they’d escaped and avoided whatever awful fate the Priesthood had intended. Choosing to live above the site of that horrible experience had been a bold move on the couple’s part, a symbolic gesture of how the Priesthood hadn’t been able to control them or crush their spirits. Wil admired them immensely for taking a stand in that way. Too often, he’d run from his own demons or tried to bury them rather than face the dark truth head-on.
As the elevator descended, he noticed the effect of the strange shielding around the facility. He’d never been able to see past the shield from the outside; now, even within, his extrasensory perceptions were muted. The effect wasn’t to the extent experienced when in subspace, but it was enough to make him question impressions he couldn’t verify with his eyes. Any space within the facility could have extra shielding, too, so a survey using his Gifts from a central location wouldn’t be reliable. They’d need to get up close to be sure.
The elevator stopped five stories down and the doors slid open. A blast of stale air assaulted Wil’s senses, bearing an unpleasant combination of mildew, bleach, and death. He was certain that no bodies had been accidentally left after the raid, but it was possible rodents had taken up residence in the dark, secluded environment.
Saera placed her hand over her nose and mouth. “Clearly, the environmental controls have been offline.”
“Let’s see if we can get everything working,” Wil suggested. He recalled there being a control room nearby on that level.
They used the lights on their handhelds to illuminate the path. After checking inside a few doors, they located the desired room. In short order, they got the lights and air filtration online, as well as the terminal for security monitoring.
“All right, we have a map!” Saera declared as she looked over the information on the screen. “Let’s see how this compares to the records Raena shared with us.” She projected a map from her handheld.
Wil compared the two images. “Looks pretty accurate. She may have actually gotten the map from here.”
“The question is, if you were a secret storeroom, where would you be?” Cris mused.
“Bottom level?” Saera suggested.
“Might actually be the opposite,” Wil said. “We’re looking for the most ancient records here—perhaps even things members of the Priesthood had forgotten about themselves. Generally, if you need to expand an underground structure, you’d kee
p excavating downward. So, the oldest areas are probably those at the top.”
“Good point,” Cris agreed. “Except, everything in the central core is probably newer or has been disturbed, so we should focus on the perimeter.”
“What about these hallways that seem to go to nowhere?” Saera suggested, pointing to several points on the map.
Wil nodded. “As good a place to start as any.”
“Do we split up to cover more ground or stick together?” Cris asked.
Wil smiled. “You should know by now, never break up the party.”
He chuckled. “All right. Lead the way.”
The air quality was already improving, and the corridors were decidedly less claustrophobic with proper lighting. Still, there was an ominous energy to the surroundings that set Wil on edge. The satin finish of the stark, white walls reflected the light without adding too much shine. It made the atmosphere feel clinical and impersonal. He supposed that utilitarian design was fitting, given how the Priesthood had operated; relentless efficiency in the name of ‘progress’.
His discomfort wasn’t from the interior appearance alone, though. Energy could linger in a place, like events burned into the walls themselves. The atrocities committed in the facility had left a stain that time alone wouldn’t scrub clean. The upper levels, where the young family and their supporters had focused on spreading messages of hope and love, had been cleansed. Down here, though, the badness had been sealed away where it had festered in the dark.
It seemed he wasn’t alone in that perception. Saera and his father held tension in their shoulders and their gazes flitted around the hallways like they believed they were being watched.
“I feel it, too,” Wil said.
Saera shuddered. “I hadn’t expected this when we talked about coming down here.”
“Yes, definitely not going to suggest this as a good place for a guest suite.”
Wil tensed as their path took them by the shattered remains of glass-walled rooms. The Priests had once held captive women in those cells—surrogates forced to gestate genetically altered clones of the Priests themselves. Though just one of the many crimes perpetrated by the Priesthood during its corrupt reign, it was certainly among the most heinous. If nothing else, Wil took comfort in the knowledge that those cells were only empty now thanks to his family’s interventions.
“All right, I think we’re looking for more of a false-wall than a hidden-door kind of situation,” Wil said as they approached the end of the first corridor they had identified on the map, mostly to break the eerie silence.
“Any guesses about what this hidden archive might look like?” his father asked.
“A storeroom, maybe? There might be data saved to crystal backups, but I’m thinking of something akin to a treasure room.”
“Finders keepers, right?” Saera joked.
“I’ll sit on the sidelines for that debate and watch you duke it out with our daughter.”
“In all seriousness,” Cris interjected, “we should evaluate any items we find on a case-by-case basis to determine what should become of the artifacts.”
Wil cast him a sidelong glance. “Of course, Dad. Just trying to lighten the mood.”
“Right, yes.” He sighed. “Sorry, I just really thought I was finished with Priesthood business.”
“Oh, me too. Believe me, this is one of the last places I thought I’d find myself again.”
They reached the dead-end that had seemed like it could lead to something not pictured on the map. Wil began inspecting the surface of the wall, looking for any obvious seams. To his surprise, there did seem to be a groove where a door might be.
“Scratch that previous comment about hidden doorways. Look at this.” He traced his finger along the edge.
Without waiting for further input, he used his senses to reach out beyond the door, feeling for an open space on the other side. Sure enough, there was a void back there, not a stone wall as one would expect to find in a place with nothing to hide.
Cris’ expression brightened. “All right, that’s a good start!”
Wil searched for evidence of electrical signals to indicate where wiring might lead to a control panel, but he didn’t detect anything. Of course not. The Priests all had telekinetic abilities. They’d just swing open the door like we would.
He tested out his hypothesis. Without any resistance, the wall panel swung toward them, pivoting on a hinge that left just enough clearance from the floor to avoid leaving a scuff mark to give away its presence. The odor of death returned stronger than before.
The area beyond was shrouded in complete darkness, except for what illumination the lights from the hallway offered. The three of them shined their handhelds inside. One of the lights caught a switch on the wall, and Wil flipped it.
Another hallway illuminated, with doors at three-meter intervals lining both sides. Unlike the outer area finished in clean white paneling, this corridor was all poured concrete and metal fittings.
“Definitely older,” Cris commented.
“Or at least not a place designed to impress anyone,” Wil said.
Saera frowned. “I don’t like it.”
Wil took the lead down the hall and found that there were no windows on the doors. He hated to think what might be inside; this was definitely not a forgotten treasure room like he was searching for.
With his father and wife standing on either side of him, he swung the first door inward. Inside were stacks of translucent yellow-orange blocks, approximately a meter wide by forty centimeters high on the ends and two meters deep. Each had a plaque on it, which had a distinctive bright-yellow shine of precious metal.
Cris stepped closer. “Is that gold? Why bother for something thrown in a storeroom?”
“It doesn’t corrode,” Wil replied, worry knotting his stomach. Something is very wrong here.
The stacks of blocks that had seemed orderly at first were actually carelessly piled, like the person who’d done it couldn’t be bothered to spend time or care in their assembly. The piles rose higher than Wil’s head in the back of the room, but the tower was lower to the right. He cautiously stepped forward to investigate.
A layer of dust had settled on the top layer of blocks, and he blew it off with a soft telekinetic wind.
The silhouette of a body inside the block was revealed by the passing breeze. Not peacefully arranged for the long sleep of death, but twisted as though writhing in eternal pain. The woman’s abdomen was split open and her intestines piled to one side. Based on the loose skin around the incision site, she had most likely been pregnant until moments before her death.
Realization came to Wil with a shiver up his spine and a sickening twist of his stomach. These blocks were all bodies. Encased in amber to preserve them. The Priesthood’s test subjects, discarded the moment they were no longer useful.
“Oh, my stars…” Cris recoiled from the sight.
Saera turned away, trying not to gag.
It took several deliberate breaths for Wil to settle his own queasiness.
Shite, who are all these people? He brushed the dust off one of the plaques, restoring its full shine.
He read the inscription on the foot of the amber block. It stated a full name and family tree back to grandparents along with a ‘Subject ID’ number, birth date, and death date. Those foking monsters… He looked around the room with sorrow, thinking about how many other doors there had been in the hallway. If each storeroom was like this, there were potentially thousands of bodies.
Saera had one hand over her mouth and another on her abdomen. Cris stood with an expression of abject horror.
Sudden anger surged through Wil. He knew the emotion was unproductive, since they’d already brought the Priesthood to justice. But he allowed himself to experience that fury all over again, if only for a few seconds—remembering why they had dedicated decades of their lives to bringing down the organization. When the rage had run its course in the short span he permitted, he re
leased it from him and turned to the task at hand.
“We’ll need to get a records team in here. This may provide answers to historical missing person cases.” Wil hated how calmly he’d made the statement. That cold professionalism that came out whenever there was an important task at hand and he was facing something too awful to process in the moment.
How many people did the Priesthood capture and experiment on over the years? They may have an answer soon, or at least an estimate. It had remained a major outstanding question since the organization’s fall, and one nobody had been eager to have answered.
He checked behind the other doors in the hallway. Too many doors. As he feared, they were the same. Stacks and stacks of amber blocks. All with a meticulous record of bloodlines.
Cris and Saera took it in with stoic resolve. They had spent their careers as soldiers and had seen death up close. Anyone less acquainted with the harsh realities of war might have broken down at the sight of the evidence detailing the scale of the Priesthood’s crimes. Their training and experience prevailed, just as Wil’s did. He found himself feeling infinitely relieved that Raena had decided not to come with them.
“I’ll make the arrangements once we’re finished here,” Saera stated. Like Wil, her tone had turned flat and matter-a-fact.
Cris swallowed. “We should finish the search.”
Trying to set aside thoughts of the bodies around him, Wil ran a quick extra-sensory assessment of the wall composition beyond the end of the hall to look for any other hidden chambers. Only solid stone met his probe, so he motioned the group to move on.
