Unipoesa slapped him hard again across the jaw. He leaned forward, his lips next to his left ear, and whispered: “I’m sorry, Mantri, about everything. Please forgive me.”
The admiral pressed a vial into his hand and turned to leave. As the prison door shut with a loud clank, Sebbs looked at what the admiral had given him.
“Gorsh-shit eating...”
Unipoesa had left him with a dose of the Prude Lady, a painful but fast-acting detox booster. He hated Damon for his pity.
Sebbs crammed himself into the corner and cradled his head in his arms. For a moment he wished he had never taken action. At least then he would still be on the spice ships, sucking down Beurethal ale and forgetting about the world around him. It would have been easier.
Then he remembered what the Moro priest had told him, and he closed his eyes and injected the booster.
JAEIA HUDDLED MISERABLY under her blanket, wracked by shivers. Tracing the swelling flesh that ran from beneath her jaw all the way to her collarbone with her fingers, she realized the terrible truth. The sickness is getting worse.
After their dreadful discovery the day before, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to eat any more Macca. The thought of eating something that came from that eyeless, soulless thing had repulsed her beyond her ability to comprehend.
(I was almost one of them.)
But soon, nothing could reverse the infection spreading through her body.
Come back, Jetta, Jaeia projected across their bond, I know you’re sick too—you can’t be out there—you can’t leave me here—
Jaeia’s words bounced back, echoing off the brick wall Jetta erected between their minds.
Jetta’s not going to come back, she thought, tugging fretfully at her jacket sleeves. It’s up to me to get us out of this.
(It’s always up to me.)
Wiping the fever sweat from her forehead, Jaeia thought through her only option. The anger and fear swirling in the Exiles’ thoughts scared her, but it was time to emerge from her cavern. No matter how much the Grand Oblin tried to assuage their concerns, it wouldn’t be enough. They all knew who General Volkor was.
The Exiles still need me for something, Jaeia thought, and I’m going to need them to find Jetta.
Taking a deep breath, Jaeia stepped out into the low light of the tunnel that led to the meeting area.
What if they don’t listen? Jaeia thought. The temptation to use her talent rose up in animal hunger pains, but fear knotted down her stomach.
(I am no better than Jetta,) whispered a dark voice from within. (What if I kill someone else?)
Jaeia stopped in her tracks, unexpectedly faced with her darkest secret.
(Gods, Verk, I am so, so sorry—)
Guilt thrust her back to the scene of the crime. Jaeia was four again, skeletal and starving, trying to decompress a coolant reactor on the target mining ship while Jetta, Jahx and Galm fixed another massive leakage in the engine core. Verk, a twelve-year-old Cerran-humanoid, crouched over his meal of bakken in the adjacent storage closet, confident that Jaeia would not try him for his prize. After beating out all the other kids that day in the food scramble, his prize amounted to more than she had seen in days.
(So hungry.)
Survival instincts outmatched any rational thought. I just need a moment’s rest—the remainder of his bakken, she thought to herself, licking her lips. What is one meal and an hour’s work? Then I can rejoin my family.
“Give me your bakken,” Jaeia whispered, second voice pulling apart the seams of the boy’s mind. “Watch the reactor for any pressure changes.”
Wide-eyed, Verk scooted away from his meal, leaving her a half-eaten loaf she devoured in seconds.
It was easy to forget that Verk had never been around a coolant reactor, or that monitoring the reactor for pressure changes was too much to ask of any child laborer. A full belly, a chance to rest, made for heavy eyelids, even crammed in the storage closest. (I just want to sleep.)
Noxious smells of sublexane woke her from her slumber. Jaeia bolted to the coolant reactor, but it was too late. Verk, cold and lifeless, with his eyes fixed open, slumped against the monitors.
He didn’t release the pressure in the main chamber, Jaeia thought, pulling the manual override levers to pump out the deadly gas from the room. (I killed him!)
The laborminders didn’t pay it a second thought as they tossed Verk’s body in one of the carts routed to the furnace, but she couldn’t get the look in his eyes out of her head or forget the way his brother wailed upon hearing of his death.
Jaeia leaned against the tunnel wall, breathing hard. “Oh Jahx... I wish you were here,” she whispered, wiping her eyes. “You’d understand; you’d keep us together.”
Keeping her brother’s strength in mind, Jaeia resumed her course to the meeting area, letting her fingers brush along the rocky wall. The textures on her fingertips soothed her anxieties, keeping her locked in the present. It was an old trick, one that she picked up on Fiorah. Sliding her fingers over the tiny holes and bubbles in the warm cement walls of their apartment lent a strange calm as Jetta raged and stormed and threw things around, or when Galm sat catatonic in front of the television and refused to talk—and especially on the terrible day when Yahmen forcibly removed Aunt Lohien from their home.
Voices grew louder as she approached the meeting area. Stray words caught her ear, and the intensity of Exiles’ emotions beset her heart.
Liikers. Telepaths. Volkor.
Jaeia leaned back on her heels, ready to turn around, when Senka’s voice rose above all the others. “Then why didn’t you let me die? If you really believe they’re not to be trusted, then my life isn’t worth it, is it? Be realistic—they are the only chance we have. If you don’t believe they’re good kids, then let me die.”
Senka’s words made her cringe, but thinking of her sister, Jaeia willed herself to step into the cavern. The rest of the group turned and looked at her. Rawyll, in the midst of cleaning one of his blades, stood up, his thoughts almost as menacing as his glare. Jaeia tried not to let her fear register as she approached them.
“I know there are things that you want to ask me. The Grand Oblin has tried to guard us from our memories, and from your fears, but it’s not...” Jaeia glanced over to see which form the Grand Oblin had taken. “...his responsibility to look after my sister and me, and, I know you need to protect yourselves, too. So... I’m here. I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
“What are you?” Rawyll’s eyes refined into slits as he firmed up his grip on his weapon.
Jaeia stood her ground. “I am Jaeia Drachsi of Fiorah. I am one of three triplets, and Jetta is my identical twin. My mother was a streetwalker, and we were adopted by Galm Drachsi and his wife, Lohien Chen, seven years ago.”
There were low murmurs and doubtful thoughts.
Rawyll shook his head. “But what the hell are you? You look human, but it’s not possible that you are. You’re telepathic, but you’re not like any other leech. You claim to be seven years old, but you haven’t the body or a brain that matches.”
Jaeia shrugged her shoulders and looked nervously to the Oblin. “I can’t answer those questions. This is the way I’ve always been.”
“Have you always used your talents?” Dinjin asked.
Jaeia hesitated. “It’s helped us survive.”
“How?” Rawyll demanded.
Jaeia saw that Senka’s eyes were downcast, and her feelings were a guarded mixture of empathy and trepidation. For some reason this made Jaeia more nervous, but she knew she had to keep going.
Dragging her fingertips along the studded top of a stalagmite, she spoke as calmly as she could. “We have a weird way of learning; we imprint what we need off of an open mind. It takes us seconds to understand a lifetime of knowledge.”
She shifted her weight from foot to foot as they talked heatedly amongst each other.
“What kind of telepath is that?” Dinjin asked.
“Gods, jeez,” Crissn mumbled. “Don’t want someone knowing my business. That’s violating!”
“It’s a dangerous power—” Rawyll said, pointing his knife at Jaeia. “Can’t be trusted with a kid.”
“Just calm down,” Senka tried, stepping in between Rawyll and Jaeia.
“They’re not like other kids, Rawyll,” the Oblin said, raising his hands.
Jaeia closed her eyes and cleared her throat. “Look—this is about General Volkor, isn’t it?”
The adults fell silent and turned all of their attention to her.
“We never wanted to kill anybody,” Jaeia said, fumbling with her shirtsleeves. “Somehow the Core found out about our ability to learn, and we were exposed to hundreds of battle commanders and military specialists and forced to play them in simulations. If we didn’t, we were punished, and because of the drugs, we weren’t even aware of the real consequences of participating. If I had known I was being molded into—into—”
That’s when she stopped. She didn’t think she needed to go on anyway. If any of them were at all perceptive, they would see just how deep her wounds went.
“They made you into the Slaythe, and they drugged you so that you didn’t even know what you were doing,” Dinjin said. “that’s brilliant.”
“Dinjin!” Senka snapped.
“No, no—it’s perfect, is all I’m saying. Those kids were the amalgamation of the entire Dominion Core military.”
“It’s gorsh-shit,” Rawyll said, pointing a finger at her. “You said you can copy people’s minds? Then why the hell didn’t you figure out what was going to happen to you? Didn’t you see it coming?”
“We can’t glean from an unwilling mind—” Jaeia tried, but gave up when Rawyll began cursing.
Crissn fiddled with his spectacles and whispered to the Oblin. “C-could the Core have used Rai Shar too?”
Jaeia overheard the nervous Oriyan. “What is Rai Shar? I’ve heard it mentioned before.”
Nobody wanted to answer her question, and Jaeia drew the obvious conclusion: They had used it to protect themselves against her and Jetta.
“Mental conditioning. The Dominion Core and the USC put their top officers through the training to protect their secrets from interrogation techniques and telepaths. Highly effective,” Dinjin finally answered.
The Oblin cleared his throat and relented. “It is part of the ancient psionic traditions of the Taurian priests of my Order. We used it during meditations and to prepare those coming of age for the dangers of telepathy. I studied it extensively and taught many students.”
“Rai Shar came from telepaths?” Jaeia exclaimed.
“Who better to develop the technique than those who possess the power?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I have a very important question,” Senka said, walking toward her. “Jaeia—what happened to the other telepaths?”
Jaeia sucked in her lower lip. “I-I don’t know. I just remember... they were like my voices. No, that’s not right—they were my intuition. I can’t say concretely that I know they were there, but one day I became aware of them. I believe they were in the battles with us, but we never actually talked to them. I don’t know what happened to them.”
“Kind of like your brother, right? You don’t know what happened to him?” Rawyll said. “Sounds suspicious to me. Those Dominion bastards are probably still using her brother in battle. I’ll bet they sent her and her sister down here as bait for us so they can get the final piece of their puzzle. They’re probably thinking exactly what we’re thinking!”
“Wait—what?” Jaeia said.
“No, I don’t think that’s how it is,” the Grand Oblin replied calmly.
“But the device—” Crissn interjected. “I see where Rawyll is going with this—I do. We’re fools to think they were sent here by ‘accident.’”
“But that’s just it,” the Grand Oblin said, laying his palm on Crissn’s heaving chest. “Tell them, Jaeia.”
“The Motti—the Deadwalkers, as you all call them. They’re in my memories, too,” Jaeia said. “I know they were behind the Core drug development, and possibly more. One day everything became so clear—the day we resisted. It can’t be coincidence. I honestly don’t know anything else. All I know is that my brother saved us by sending us here. We were supposed to be executed.”
“I don’t believe it. It’s just a clever means of getting the device,” Rawyll said, throwing down a cleaning rag and pointing his finger at the Oblin. “You honestly think that this is plausible?”
“What is this device you’re talking about?” Jaeia asked. All of them looked at her out of the corners of their eyes, but none answered her question.
“Rawyll, look at that child and tell me that you do not believe her,” the Oblin said.
The Oriyan weaponsmaster slung his weapon, approached her and placed two fingers underneath her chin, tilting her head upwards. His eyes narrowed and his lips curled. Jaeia could feel the strain in the back of his mind as he searched for something.
“This one is not lying,” he concluded. “But that doesn’t mean it’s the truth.”
“I agree,” Dinjin said. “No offense to you, Jaeia.”
Jaeia listened to their thoughts, all of them lingering on the importance of “the device.”
“Is this device what you wanted me for?”
Still, nobody answered her. The tension of the group felt like a lump of hot iron in her belly as she silently watched Rawyll and Dinjin grab supplies and weapons.
“Where are you going?” Senka asked, stepping in front of the exit to block Rawyll and Dinjin as they strapped the weapons to their hips and gear to their backs.
“To fetch that pest of a launnie before she gets herself killed. You get to babysit that one. Make sure she eats some Macca or I’m force-feeding her when I return.”
“It’s no use,” Jaeia said quietly, stopping them in their tracks. Dark memories of the past formed her words. “She won’t come back until she’s ready. This isn’t the first time she’s done something like this.”
Rawyll buckled a hunting knife to his thigh and continued preparing for their departure.
“Please don’t go. Not like that, at least,” Jaeia said. “Jetta doesn’t exactly respond well to aggression.”
“Don’t worry, that’s why I’m going along,” Dinjin said, smiling and readjusting the straps on his pack.
Jaeia’s heart sank. “Please, don’t do this. She’s not thinking straight. I don’t know what she might do.”
“It’s all right, Jaeia,” the Grand Oblin said, touching her shoulder. “They can manage themselves.”
Jaeia didn’t bother to disagree with him, knowing that he wouldn’t have minded her arguments anyway. He’s a different kind of telepath; maybe he knows something I don’t, she thought, sensing the Oblin filled with a strange levity. Still, she was afraid—for Dinjin and Rawyll as well as for her sister.
Both Senka and the Grand Oblin stood behind her as they watched Rawyll and Dinjin make their way toward the waxen glow of moonlight that marked the tunnel’s exit. Crissn paced back and forth as their footsteps faded, talking to himself.
“Well,” Crissn said, “I guess I’d better go check on our harvest.” He glanced at Jaeia, his face blotching red. “Not that you couldn’t figure out what that meant, but that’s the term we use for when we milk the Liiker blood and infuse it into the fruit for—”
“Thank you, Crissn,” the Grand Oblin said, waving him away. “I’ll join you shortly, all right?”
Resuming his conversation with himself, the Oriyan scurried down the tunnel toward the lab.
Jaeia sat down on a nearby rock and faced her remaining audience. “I’ve been honest with you. I’d appreciate if you’d level with me.”
“You have to understand, Jaeia,” the Grand Oblin said gently. “You were unknown to us, and from what I could discern, it wouldn’t have been safe to immediately expose you to our problems with the device, the North
ies and the Prigs, the suppressant we use... For that, I apologize.”
“Is that why you taught the Exiles Rai Shar? Are you blocking their thoughts from us?”
The Oblin dabbed his watery eyes with the sleeve of his robe. “I’ve helped them control their thoughts just as I helped you.”
Jaeia closed her eyes. “I guess I can understand why you did those things. But please, can you tell me about this device you keep talking about? And Senka—why do you want to die so badly?”
Senka brushed the hair from her face, her eyes distant and unreadable. “The device is actually the flash transport system the Narki invented. It wasn’t a rumor. The Prigs and the Northies know we stole some highly classified technology from the labs when we were getting some equipment for Crissn, but they don’t know what exactly it is. If they did, they would gang up on us in a heartbeat.”
“It’s worth a fortune, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
“Then why are you still here?” Jaeia asked. “I’m sure it’s worth your freedom.”
“It is, but we’d have to alert the right people, and that’s not possible with the Warden monitoring and filtering all incoming and outgoing com traffic. We’d be limited to an old broadcast signal that could take months or even years to reach anyone—assuming, of course, that the Warden let it out. That or we’d be limited to a single datastream into the wave network.”
“What’s the closest planet?” Jaeia asked.
“Plaly IV,” Senka sighed.
“The Labor Locks,” Jaeia said. She had heard people speak of them, back in the mines. It was the only place she’d ever heard of that sounded worse than Fiorah.
“So you see our predicament. We have something valuable enough to turn the tide of the war for the USC, but we have no means of alerting them.”
“But how do you know it even works?”
Senka hung her head. “That’s why they’ve kept me alive. I’m a quantum engineering specialist, so I’m the only one who understands how to use it. I spent months deciphering Narki technical code to properly assemble and use the dich thing. I know how to dematerialize objects, but bringing them back—well, that’s something I have a theory about, but I don’t have the necessary equipment.”
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