“I don’t know what else to do with them,” Pax answered, biting her lip.
“I never wanted to see those things. And I saw my dad fighting! He was being brutalized by the Asura… Did that really happen? Yes, that couldn't be your imagination. Oh, Daddy... No! No! I can’t...” Amara scratched her nails along her forehead and over her eyes and Pax fought to restrain her hands. Pax felt vast remorse at the pain she had caused her friend.
“Shhhh, Amara. It’s OK. Release the power. Relax!”
She completely forgot about her own pain, using every grain of her remaining strength to stop Amara from quaking in violent seizures and scratching out her own eyes. Amara tried to focus and do as Pax said, and her body finally began to calm down. As Amara’s energy drained, the redness of fire seeped out of her complexion; her eyes returned to their natural pale blue, and her hair returned to its natural silky-soft blonde.
“Good, see? You’re okay. It’s over.” Pax smiled and released her friend from the restraining hold. “You’re very strong, Amara. Very!”
“I’m not,” she sobbed. “Sakra knows I’m not strong. What am I doing here? I can’t do this.”
“We’re in Room Five, and we nearly just beat it! How can you say you’re not strong after what we just did? If we had just been able to hold on for a few seconds longer, we could have destroyed that globe!”
“I just feed off your strength when we’re joined, Pax. On my own I’m nothing. I’ve never fought in a real battle before, you know that.” Amara closed her eyes and silently cried, and Pax pulled her friend into a sitting position and hugged her. “I just can’t deal with this.”
“You have no idea how much you’ve improved in such a short time! I am so proud of you. You’re doing great. I’m learning from you too, Amara. You’re teaching me how to be a better fighter.”
“How could I teach you?” Amara asked incredulously, burying her face in her friend’s shoulder, leaning on her for strength. “I’m terrible at this. Please, Pax. Let’s never do this again!”
Pax stiffened then. She swallowed and spoke slowly. “We need to. I need you to do this with me—how will we get out of here otherwise?”
“We’ll find another way,” Amara whispered, “but I’m never going to do that again. I don’t want to join bodies anymore—it’s too painful, physically and emotionally.”
“Listen to me,” said Pax through her clenched jaw. “We have to keep going forward—it’s the only way. The boys can handle this. We have the same deva blood, the same deva bodies.”
“I don’t care. I don’t want to get more powerful. These tests? They’re all stupid and irrelevant,” Amara said angrily. “Tell me, what skills could we possibly gain from learning to blow up a gigantic ball made from a substance harder than diamond? I don’t know about you, but in my everyday life that’s not exactly a pressing concern.”
“We wouldn’t have been given this task unless it was important,” Pax argued. “We’ve attacked it with everything we have in us. Day after day, Para just unleashes on that thing. Nothing happens. We need to keep trying.”
“We don’t need to do shit. Here’s what matters to me: lipstick. Red or neutral tones? Jeans—flare or skinny leg? Skirts—knee-length or mini? Earrings—dangling or hoops? These are the kinds of decisions I want to make on a daily basis. I don’t want to have to worry about whether my body is going to explode!”
Pax blinked. “We need to do this, Mara.”
“No.”
“Then how will we get out of here?” Pax asked angrily. “Help me to do this, and I won’t ever ask anything of you again. We can go our separate ways after we leave the vector zone and never talk again.”
“I don’t want that, Pax. I just… I need to learn to use Golden Form as much as I need a bellybutton piercing. I kind of want one because they look cool, but it’s unnecessary. Stop being greedy and just be satisfied with what we’ve achieved already. Enough is enough.”
Pax ripped herself away from Amara and stood up furiously. “I need to learn Golden Form as much as I need to breathe. Now that I’ve tasted it, I will break my neck to get there again and to master the power with or without you. Then, once I’m there, I’ll try to achieve more! This is who I am, and this is what I live for. What else is there for me to live for now, Mara? Tell me that.”
“Pax,” said Amara, her face falling into her hands flaccidly. “Forgive me. Please forgive me, but I can’t do that again.”
Pax stared at the girl on the floor with contempt and disappointment. “You’re right. You shouldn’t have come here. You’re useless to me; you’re nothing.” She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth, but they had been spoken. She turned and walked away. Only when she started walking did she realize how much energy she’d lost, and how weak she was. Amara was in worse shape, and she was just leaving her there. Her friend wouldn’t be able to move—possibly for days. There was a pained expression on Pax’s face which Amara couldn’t see. Pax knew how much her words had hurt the blonde woman. She could feel it. And she hadn’t meant those words at all.
Even if Amara had chosen never to practice her powers, Pax would still have loved her and considered her a dear friend. Amara was clever; almost as brilliant as her mother. She was creative and curious, with an amazing sense of humor. She might not be strong, but she was worthy in hundreds of other important ways. Training wasn’t everything—there were human pursuits in which Amara excelled. As much as she told herself this, she knew that she didn’t believe it. They had entered the Pseudosphere for a reason, and Amara was giving up.
Pax would need to destroy the fjuyen crystal on her own, and she didn’t know how. Her anger and impatience had finally reached their limit. She had never practiced with anyone weaker than she; she was used to Vincent pushing her mental and physical thresholds. Her father, Raymond, was a font of knowledge and passion for exercising his power. Thornton and Asher just had fun one-upping each other, but even that was better than this. For the first time, Pax was required to push herself, and drag Amara along with her. Worst of all, she had lost Para. This made her angry at herself; she should never have invested herself so heavily in Para—for she felt like half of her own body had surrendered.
She mentally renounced Amara. She would achieve Golden Form herself, even if it took a lifetime in Room Five. It was surely impossible to achieve it on her own, but Pax would try anyway. If she managed the feat, it wouldn’t be the first time she conquered impossibility.
Chapter 15: Schmoozing the Ambassador
Thornton had been lying on his back on a skyscraper, staring up at cloud formations when he received the phone call.
“I need you to schmooze some important men for me, Thorn,” Rose had demanded on the other end of the line.
“But you fired me,” he said in confusion.
“It doesn’t matter now. This isn’t just Kalgren Tech business,” Rose informed him. “You know the Commander of NORAD, right?”
Thornton sat up abruptly, staring at the phone. “What’s going on, Mom?”
“Take him out to dinner or something,” Rose said firmly. “We’re going to need that connection soon.”
“Mom, you can’t just tell me to hang out with the Commander of NORAD without telling me why. What the hell is going on?”
Rose paused. “I don’t have any concrete evidence for you to show him yet. So just schmooze Martin for now, and tell him that K.T. Enterprises may be able to donate some new technology for National Defense in the near future.”
“Fuck! Mom, you’ve had the company in your hands for a day and you are already getting involved in war! Look, I may have had some scandals with women—but Kalgren Tech cannot get involved with National Defense…”
“This isn’t about war, dear,” Rose said softly. “Just trust me, Thorn. Do this favor for your mother.”
“Fine,” Thornton said angrily. “I’ll call Martin.”
“Great! Thanks, son. Also, I’m going to need you to meet up
with your Uncle Bud at NASA.”
“No way, mom! That man is awful—he’s your brother, and you should deal with him.”
“Sorry, Thorn. I have a company to run. You’re going to have to do the socializing for me. Socializing shouldn’t be a problem for you, right? Also, I believe the Australian ambassador is in town. You’re friends with him right? You better meet with him too.”
Once the phone call ended, Thornton had been so frustrated that he had begun pacing a hole into the roof of the skyscraper. Something about his mother’s voice unsettled him. It was more than businesslike, and more than warlike. He instinctively knew that something serious was happening, and he felt insulted that he had not been informed of the particulars. Instead, he was being used as an errand boy.
He was in fact, on good terms with the Australian ambassador. He had already missed a few calls from the man, and he knew he would have at least one voicemail requesting to meet the man at the racetrack to “play the ponies.” At the very least, it would occupy his mind. This way, he could pretend that he was still working—he was surely doing something that could potentially benefit the company someday. Kalgren Tech did a lot of business with Australia, and Thornton had established a pleasant working relationship with the ambassador for that reason. They would go for drinks every time Albert was in town, and the fun-loving diplomat was always impressed with Thornton’s tolerance for alcohol. Albert would always tell the stories to his friends and family back home and to corporate executives worldwide, that he had never met a man who could handle his alcohol the way Thornton Kalgren could.
“It’s not like I have anything better to do anyway,” Thornton had muttered to himself, thinking, not until Pax returns. I hope.
At the racetrack, the men had been taken to the preparation area to meet the horses and their riders. Thornton feigned casual interest in the greetings, and sized up the animals. He concentrated in order to determine the strength of the life force of each horse. He easily could determine that one horse had a disproportionately higher energy signal in comparison to the rest. He mused inwardly that he was almost positive that horse would win.
When Albert placed his bet, he asked Thornton for his opinion. Thornton had answered, “I’m quite certain that number thirteen will take it.”
“No way!” exclaimed Albert. “Deceiving Temptress? That horse has never won, and it injured its leg a year ago. Haven’t you read the bios? The odds are stacked against it. There’s a reason that they're paying out 20 to 1 if that horse wins.”
Albert had laughed at Thornton and made a joke about the younger man being a little “green” to people passing by. Thornton smiled and decided to place a bet out of rebellion. Moving to the window he pulled out his wallet. “I’ll put twenty grand on Deceiving Temptress, please.”
The attendant had looked at him blankly. “Sir... uh, that’s a pretty high wager. We usually don’t allow such high bets. Are you sure?”
“I’m a very rich man.”
Albert’s mouth had dropped open. “Are you serious? You’re insane!”
“I have a good feeling about this,” said Thornton with a shrug. “And if I were you I’d bet on Deceiving Temptress too.”
Albert had shaken his head and reached for his wallet again, “I’ll put a thousand bucks on that horse. For amusement’s sake. This young man has a strange way of making good calls.”
Thornton nodded, feeling his initially very low interest in the race rise a few infinitesimal degrees now that he had a tiny stake in it. “Come on, Albert. Let’s see if my instincts are correct.”
“The odds are 20 to 1 that you’ve been ‘deceived’ by that horse, Mr. Big-Shot CEO.”
“Maybe.”
The men sat in the luxurious VIP area to watch the race. Albert chattered on and on in a friendly manner while Thornton nodded and made the appropriate surprised or approving noises. While obediently schmoozing the foreign diplomat, his mind wandered elsewhere. He tried to figure out what his mother was up to, and failing to figure that out, he stared to wonder how Pax was faring in the vector zone. He knew that the trials were different for everyone, and he wondered what horrors she was struggling against at that very moment.
When the race began and the horses thundered by them. The people in the audience rose to their feet in excitement, shouting at the top of their lungs and throwing various items into the air. Thornton closed his eyes and concentrated on the energy signals of the horses. He still could feel that the life force of ‘Deceiving Temptress’ was increasing even higher, and he continued to feel her energy spike as she pulled away from the other horses and into the lead. When the race finished his eyes were still closed.
“You weren't even looking!” accused the ambassador. “Couldn’t bear to watch in case you lost, eh? I don’t know how you did it, man, but you nailed it. As if you weren't rich enough!”
Thornton opened his eyes and forced a smile onto his face. “Really? Wow. It was a lucky guess.”
“I should have taken your advice and bet my life savings on that damned horse,” grumbled Albert. Thornton nodded numbly, and the two men moved slowly through the crowds to collect their winnings. Everyone around was groaning and complaining about the fact that the favorites hadn’t won—most of the spectators felt disappointed and ripped off. There was the familiar gloom in atmosphere that generally lingered after a gambling event. Thornton barely noticed.
He was not looking forward to schmoozing the next men on his list; he did not know why he allowed his mother to treat him like a slave. Winning massive amounts of cash could not boost Thornton’s mood or distract him from his troubles. He was discovering that the man who has everything tends to desire the one thing he cannot have—in his case, the trust of the woman he’d betrayed.
She had only been gone for a few days, but he was well aware that it was much, much longer on the inside. Pax was very likely being brutalized by all manner of elemental psychological torture that had ever been conceived by the merciless old gods. He should be helping her. She shouldn’t be in there alone—what use was Amara? Thornton wished more than anything that he could find a way to go to her.
* * *
Vincent stalked into the office that used to belong to his son. As expected, his wife’s head was bowed, resting limply on her folded arms. The light from three different computers illuminated her stylishly combed hair in the dim office. The smallest hint of a smile came to Vincent’s lips as he remembered their younger years; this had been a nightly occurrence. Rose had always overworked herself, and that is why he had forced her into early retirement. Even in these years when she should be enjoying her hard-earned leisure, she could not seem to stop working. He knew that she was piously devoted to the religion of progress, but he felt the need to enforce her comfort for the sake of her health.
Walking forward, he allowed his boots to make extra noise, alerting her to his presence. When her head lifted drowsily to make sense of her surroundings, he assumed an angry scowl and struck a serious posture. “Why aren’t you in bed? It’s 4 AM.”
“Why didn’t you notice that I wasn’t in bed until 4 AM?” Rose shot back.
“I was making a plan of attack.”
“Well, I was making a plan of defense.” The husband and wife stared at each other, glares locked in stalemate. With neither willing to back down, an uninformed onlooker might have believed that the two were not on the same side. The intense staring contest was only broken when Rose emitted a huge yawn. She glanced at the computer screens which she had been working on before her impromptu nap, groaning loudly.
“I can’t look at these figures,” Rose said softly. She reached up to release her hair from its tight bun, trying to knead away the headache that ran far deeper than her scalp. “I told that poor girl I would help her, but this is impossible.”
“Sorry—I must have misheard you. Did I just hear my mad-scientist wife say that something was impossible?”
Rose ran her hands over her forehead, putting pressur
e on her eyebrows to try and ease the ache. “It’s so much money, Vince,” she whispered. “Building the spaceships won’t be a problem—but if that thing is going to hit on August 12th—I need to use the most sophisticated fuel available to have our ships intercept it in time, far away from the planet. Do you know how much the fuel is going to cost?”
“I have little concept of your human financial systems,” he responded.
“Four spaceships require a billion dollars in fuel,” Rose whispered. “If I had more time, I could use cheaper fuel, but I need to use antimatter. It’s made in particle accelerators, and just a few milligrams cost hundreds of millions of dollars.”
“That sounds problematic,” Vincent agreed.
“I can’t justify that much expenditure to the board of directors without evidence of the comet! I need… government grants. And it takes shitloads of time for government grants, and I need to send the spaceships now.” Rose hung her head forward, almost allowing her nose to collide with the desk. “Knowing our government, they won’t be willing to help. Knowing NASA, they’ll want to cut corners and do this as cheaply as possible. No, I can’t depend on them—I need private funding. If I approach my foreign investors…”
“You need to relax, Rose,” Vincent said with a frown. “What can I do to help?”
“Just go to sleep and let me work,” she snapped. “By the time the sun rises, I’ll have this all figured out.”
He disobeyed her, of course, moving over to stand behind her chair and gently squeeze her shoulders. At first, she relaxed into his touch, allowing him to suck away all her tension with the warm tingle of his prana, but she immediately straightened, batting his hands away. “Stop that! This is sabotage! Sabotage! I understand that we have different ways of doing things, and I’m not asking you to help me—you implement your method, and I’ll implement mine! I know you think technology is ineffective, but I have to try. This is the only way I know.”
Thirty Minutes to Heartbreak Box Set (Books 1-3) Page 42
