“Of course. We live in our own villages, so as not to bother the Savrakath masters with our….” Her voice trailed off, and her shoulders rose a notch. “They forced us to live apart from them. I know of many villages.”
“Excellent. If I showed you a map, could you point out some of these villages to me?”
“Um, a close-up map, maybe? I know how to get to the villages, but I’ve never seen them from the sky.”
“That’s fine. I’m sure we can create a good map for you.” Her mind raced…how best to accomplish this? “If I were to open a…path between here and one of the villages, would you be willing to briefly go through it and convince the people living there to return here with you, through the path?”
“Like what Miss Marlee did in the swamp? You’ll make a hole in the world?”
So that was how Marlee had gotten Vaihe off Savrak. But Marlee wasn’t a Prevo, so she must have redirected an existing wormhole somehow. “Yes, like Miss Marlee did—so you know it’s safe.”
“People will not believe me. They will be afraid.”
“Aren’t they already afraid? Afraid their Savrakath masters will kidnap and torture them? Or worse?”
Vaihe’s enormous eyes widened into giant orbs, and her throat worked for several seconds. “This is a good point. They are…and I can maybe offer them hope for a better life.” She nodded resolutely. “Yes. I wish to try.”
31
* * *
SAVRAK
Unknown Location
Malcolm extended a gloved hand to Mia, who sat at the dignitary table at the front of the ballroom entertaining all manner of politicians. “May I dance with the most beautiful woman in the room?”
Her lips curled up into a little smile as she murmured an apology to the man sitting next to her—the governor of Atlantis, Malcolm thought—then accepted his proffered hand and stood. “It would be my pleasure to accompany the guest of honor to the dance floor.”
That was him: the guest of honor. Earlier tonight he’d nodded and blushed his way through excruciating speeches by three separate political heads of state praising him. Many handshakes had followed, and finally the pinning of a modest pewter star beneath his rank bars to signify his new status as the AEGIS Fleet Admiral. The first true AEGIS Fleet Admiral, in point of fact.
Though he’d never shirk the responsibility that accompanied the title, and he appreciated the power it should grant him to get important work done, the fawning and general ass-kissing the promotion brought made him deeply uncomfortable.
They reached the periphery of the dance floor, and he rested one hand at the small of Mia’s back while holding the other outstretched to the side. Dancing also made him deeply uncomfortable, but at least a gruff drill sergeant had taught him how to do it properly in officer training school a lifetime ago.
“How do you suffer all this overwrought praise and flattery, Senator Requelme?”
“I return it when required, then banish it from my mind and go about doing my job, Fleet Admiral Jenner.”
“You make it sound easy, because for you it is. For me? Not so much.”
She effortlessly followed his lead as they glided across the dance floor while dodging the other couples. “You’ll be fine. Just issue some orders and bask in how everyone obeys them without question.”
“That will be nice, I admit. But I prefer my men cursing me to curtseying me.”
Her laugh rippled sultry and melodic, and he suddenly wanted to be somewhere far more private. She truly was the most beautiful woman in the room, and it wasn’t a close call. Her jade satin dress shifted across her curves with every graceful movement, and her ebony hair was swept up in a pearl ornament to expose her slender neckline.
He leaned in closer as they passed a twirling dervish that might have been the Earth Alliance Assembly Speaker and his wife. “So, how much longer do you think we need to stay here?”
“Oh, no. You’re not getting off so easily this time. You’re the star of the party. You can’t abandon your admirers now.”
“But…” he pressed his palm flat at her waist, drawing her tight against him “…I only care about one admirer.”
“Good.” Her lips found his ear. “Then let me tell you all about what we’re going to do when we can finally retire to the hotel room.”
Malcolm jerked awake to the sound of raucous activity outside and to the left of his cell, and the blissful haze of the memory evaporated. Multiple heavy footfalls accompanied barked but muffled commands that sounded unusually rude even for the Savrakaths. Were they delivering a new prisoner to a nearby cell?
He waited quietly, maintaining his dejected pose slumped against the wall. It wasn’t hard. His shoulder was actually healing fairly well at this point, as the antiseptic had provided the healing boost his cybernetics had needed to get a handle on the infection. He didn’t intend on letting his captors know this, however, and he had every reason to believe the cell was monitored. If he started looking fit and spry—relatively speaking—his captors were apt to engage in further enthusiastic interrogations, which he would just as soon skip.
Additional orders were barked in the direction of the adjacent cell, but all Malcolm was able to make out was “—back for you soon.” One of the guards strode down the hall, stopping in front of his cell to snarl in his direction. Malcolm let his chin loll to his chest and remained silent. After several seconds, the guard opened the small hole in the force field and tossed a wrapped package through it. The package bounced across the floor and landed next to his leg. The force field closed, and the guard disappeared.
He waited through another thirty seconds of silence before gingerly reaching out for the package. His left arm remained chained up, and while he’d regained minimal range of motion in his right arm, every movement he demanded of it sent pain radiating through his body.
He fumbled the package open using one hand to find a lump of…bread? Possibly? They were feeding him barely enough to keep him alive, presumably in case they found some use for him. His eVi could finesse his cybernetics to keep him alive without food for several months, assuming he had water, which they provided only slightly more regularly than food. But under the assumption the Savrakaths didn’t know the finer points of modern human physiology, he made a show of hungrily devouring the dry, stale starch before nudging the wrapper off to the side.
Then he shifted around in an ostensible attempt to get comfortable, but in such a way that his head faced toward the left wall. If the new prisoner worked for Concord in any capacity, and if the comm block was a bubble instead of a field, a directional/vicinity comm signal should reach them. He closed his eyes, feigning sleep.
Are you there?
No response arrived.
I’m in the cell next to you, to your right. Who are you?
Silence continued, which likely meant one of his two assumptions was false. Dammit! He craved friendly contact, and he was desperate for any information about what was transpiring in Concord.
Who are you?
He mentally jumped to attention…then hesitated. Not all prison mates were created equally.
I’m an AEGIS Marine. I was captured during a mission to rescue imprisoned Godjans. My name’s Malcolm. You?
Torval elasson-Machim, Navarchos of the Imperium Delta.
Malcolm groaned aloud, hoping it sounded like a groan of pain to any listening devices. His limited interactions with Torval over the years had not left him with a positive impression; the man was arrogant, boisterous and reckless. Plus, more recently, a murderer and seditionist. He was also supposed to be locked in a different cell at Concord Detention.
How did you get here? Did Concord give you to the Savrakaths?
No, Command is far too cowardly to pull such a stunt. Some Idoni fop kidnapped me from Detention and handed me over to them.
Eren Savitas, no question. Torval was responsible for the death of his girlfriend and teammate, and Eren had always played by his own rules. No one deserved the pu
nishment of a Savrakath gulag, but Malcolm could understand how Eren might judge it fitting for the man.
What’s happening at Concord? I’ve been cut off for a week.
No idea. I’ve been cut off for longer, ever since that cunt Solovy pitched a tantrum and threw me in a cell.
Malcolm recoiled at the vile insult the man had casually hurled at Miriam. Thus far, his earlier impressions were proving to be spot-on, and the man hadn’t even brought any news to offer up as compensation. The brief surge of hope evaporated, and he let dark thoughts consume him.
What have they done to you? What can I expect from the torture?
Malcolm didn’t particularly want to engage any further with the murderer, but it had been so long since he’d talked to anyone other than his captors.
I’ve got a shoulder wound they’ve exploited for pain purposes. Food and water deprivation, a couple of shock baton hits. Nothing I can’t handle.
Dammit. I suspected they were all bluster, but I need them to be rougher with me. The Idoni warned them not to kill me, but the Savrakaths are violent and reactionary, so I intend to provoke them into doing exactly that at the soonest opportunity. Then I can wake up in a Machim lab back home. Humans have regenesis now, don’t they? You should do the same.
Malcolm sighed. It’s not quite so simple for me.
Huh. Your loss. I don’t intend to be here for long.
For the thousandth time since he’d woken up in this Hell, his thoughts drifted to the ‘no regenesis’ clause he’d included in his will. For better or worse, if he died here, there would be no reawakening for him.
Both intellectually and spiritually, he continued to believe in the rightness of his choice. He didn’t look down upon those who disagreed with him and had already taken advantage of this new ‘miracle’ of immortality. He respected and trusted David Solovy and, when they were trustworthy, the Anadens with whom he worked. It was not his place to pass judgment on the state, presence or absence of anyone else’s soul.
But for himself, he believed that he’d been granted one solitary soul, and when he died, God willing, it would depart for a peaceful afterlife. Thus any clone of his would by definition be something…lesser. A hollow shell of a human being. But the promise of a second life was so damn tempting—and never more tempting than at this moment. To be able to return to Mia’s arms, to not leave her to face an uncertain future alone, to be able to hug his mom and sister again, to keep fighting to protect his people….
It was a good dream, but it was only a dream. Still…if he were able to go back in time and make a different choice, would he? What harm could there be in allowing a golem copy of himself to go on living his life after he died? If the copy was convincing enough, it wouldn’t need a spiritual soul to bring Mia and his family many years of happiness.
He shuddered. No. Hedging his bets was the coward’s way out. The ultimate dark temptation, but he couldn’t go against what he believed.
Which brought him full circle to his singular goal: since he wasn’t going to be reborn, he needed to stay alive and escape. His wounds were healing; another few days and he thought he’d be able to overpower the guard. He’d watched the procedures they followed for the force field, and if he timed his moves perfectly, he could get out while it was down. It was time to start planning his escape in earnest.
He considered the left wall of his cell with deep reluctance. Two trained soldiers stood a far better chance of escaping than one, if they worked together. He sent another message.
They haven’t let me out of this cell since I got here, but it sounds like they’re planning to move you elsewhere.
For special torture, no doubt. The Idoni made sure their General Jhountar knew the full extent of my transgressions against the Savrakaths.
Sorry to hear it. But if they do move you around, keep an eye out for any weaknesses we can exploit. Maybe together, the two of us can manufacture a way to escape.
What makes you think I’ll help you escape, Human?
Malcolm blinked in disbelief. God, the man really was a first-rate asshole.
We’re on the same side, Torval.
Don’t be so certain of that.
I see. Good luck to you then.
32
* * *
CINT VESSEL 23A-X
Vicinity of Savrak Stellar System
A stygian darkness roiled across the landscape. Eren ran, and the darkness chased.
Flames roared up out of the depths of a fissure in front of him. He turned away, seeking another path of escape, but the fire spread in a circle to surround him. To trap him.
The ground shifted beneath his feet; he looked down to see it had transformed into a pit of viscous sludge. A terrible itching sensation spread up his legs, as if spiders scurried along the underside of his skin. They raced up his chest in a mad skittering dash for his heart. Panicked at the thought of the creatures spinning a web around his heart, his nails dug into his chest, desperate to get them out—
Eren’s eyes popped open at the surge of self-inflicted agony. His vision swam, blurry and cobweb-coated. His gaze dropped in a panic, certain he would find spiders pouring out of a hole in his chest. But there was nothing save several thin lines of blood welling up out of deep scratches beneath his collarbone.
“You’re awake.”
He jerked in surprise at the sound of a voice…a familiar voice, no less. He rubbed at his eyes until the blurriness resolved into a force field. On the other side of it, Drae Shonen ela-Machim sat on a crate of supplies and studied him. How?
He tried to think through the raging pain splitting open his skull. He’d been plunging headlong into Savrak’s sun, seconds away from a blissful and final death, then…nothing. Nothing until the nightmarish hallucinations began.
He dragged a hand down his cheek, and it came away soaked in sweat. Now he was in the hold of his own ship, restrained by the same force field he’d used to keep Torval locked away. “Drae, you bastard. What did you do?”
His friend and teammate frowned, apparently not liking what his inspection of Eren showed him. “Your Kat pal, Mesme, showed up in the middle of the CINT offices. It was most worried about your mental state, and I agreed to let it spirit me onto the ship here. I knocked you out before you could suicide us both into the star. I just got out of regenesis, and I did not fancy suffering through that gauntlet again so soon.”
“I don’t want your help. You can take the ship, I don’t care. Shoot me out of a torpedo tube and go home.”
“The ship doesn’t have any torpedo tubes, remember?”
“Not really.” His face scrunched up in a grimace as the creepy-crawly sensation flared between his toes to race up his left leg. He grabbed for his calf, nails scratching and digging into the skin. If he could only get to the spiders before they ate him from the inside out!
“Hey, calm down.” Drae stood and approached the force field. “I’ve got one more dose of immade for you. It should ease those dialele withdrawal symptoms for now.”
The tiny part of his brain that retained a tenuous hold on rationality remembered the litany of risks that came with taking dialele. Objectively, the spiders were a figment of his tainted imagination. But the aftereffects of the hypnol had him in their clutches now, and the louder part of his brain, where insanity had already taken root, did not care to listen to rationality’s whispers.
“And what about later?”
“You’ll have to tough it out. I’ll pin your arms up in those restraints if I need to do it to keep you from clawing your skin off, but I’m not going to let you die.”
Eren banged his head against the wall behind him as his fists clenched from the effort of not chasing the maddening itch snaking through his body. “Arae, Drae, why not? Please. Let me go. I’m so…tired. I’m so…done. Without Cosime, I’ve got no more reason to fight and nothing left to hope for. I just want it all to stop. I want peace.”
“Too bad.” Drae crouched in front of the force field to gaze a
t him with a mix of sadness and frustration. “I know you’re hurting right now, I do. It’s called grieving. But it won’t last forever. One day, you’ll thank me for helping you.”
“I will not.”
“I say you will, but we’ll see. For now, let’s concentrate on getting you detoxed.”
The subsequent hours passed in a haze of brutal pain and terror. The malevolent gloom returned; the viscous pit consumed him, stringing him up like a ritual sacrifice to be fed to the spiders. They scurried through his veins and into his brain, and he was powerless to stop them.
On finding them shut, Eren opened his eyes, blinking against the harsh brightness of the force field. Drae was nowhere to be seen, but his former friend had made good on his threat, as both of Eren’s arms were secured in cuffs and chained to the wall.
He jerked at the restraints, panic giving strength to his muscles, but they refused to give way. He’d secured them too damn well in order to ensure they kept Torval imprisoned. Now the prison was his own. His fingers convulsed, clamoring to gouge his eyes out and set the spiders free.
A wave of nausea boiled up out of his stomach, his prison lurched sideways, and he succumbed to the torturous darkness once more.
33
* * *
EPITHERO
Casmir sat perched on the edge of the small couch, his hands folded fastidiously in his lap. Waiting, and thinking.
Ferdinand had seen to it that his every need was taken care of. The suite included a stocked kitchen, a full bath and a spacious bedroom in addition to the living area, and supplies were brought in by a Machim asi loyal to Otto whenever requested. He was, in all material respects, quite comfortable.
But such comforts only served to strip away the veneer painted atop his imprisonment. He was prevented from leaving the suite; all communications were denied him, and his sole visitors were Ferdinand and the asi guard. He believed his location to be the former home of the Kyvern Primor on Epithero, but he had no way to know who else might be in residence or what destructive activities they might be pursuing.
Inversion (Riven Worlds Book Two) Page 20
