by J M Hamm
Some deep part of my mind responded, a great hunger that desired to make the energy part of myself. Ourself.
The energy quickly filled the room, and I felt as if I was swimming in muck that clung to me and threatened to pull me deeper into it like quicksand. The grey paint on the walls began to peel and warp as if time and entropy had been sped up.
I instinctively reached out towards the energy but pulled back in disgust.
It felt much more active and volatile than the reddish black energy I was used to working with. As it caressed my skin, trace amounts of the energy would seep into my pores, filling me with a sense of hatred for the living.
Whatever this heart belonged to had died terribly, and I could still feel it calling out for vengeance.
My arms and torso shook and sweat began to pour down my face. My face paled, and I could feel the contents of my stomach beginning to rebel. I struggled to push the energy out of my body when Sebbit snapped shut the canister with a deafening bang that reverberated between the walls of the narrow concrete room.
The energy didn’t immediately dissipate, instead lingering as a literal cloud of malaise.
I reached up to touch my face and ran my thumb through a weeks’ worth of scraggly beard, before placing my hand over my eyes. I couldn’t get the emotions out of my head. I yelled, pushing up from my chair as I forced the last of the energy out of my body.
“What the hell was that?”
“Hmm …” Sebbit vocalized. “As I said, this object was taken from a cultist. A human that murdered several highly trained Peacekeepers. I should not have to tell you how difficult that should be for any citizen, let alone a tier four citizen armed with primitive weaponry.”
“And why are you showing it to me?”
“I needed to see your reaction,” said the computerized voice of Sebbit’s translator. “It was … informative — you clearly had a very strong reaction, and yet your claims of ignorance are honest. You’ve either never seen a dungeon core before, or the memory has been … tampered with.”
“And what does this have to do with Liv?” I said. “Why did you show me … that,” I pointed towards the photo that still sat on the table.
“Mr. Finn, please know that this gives me no pleasure. My only wish is to uphold the Accord and to protect every citizen of the Hegemony. I take my oaths very seriously, especially this one.”
“Please, just tell me what is going on …”
“Very well, Mr. Finn. That photograph and this core ...”
His hand rested on the silver canister, and he pulled it slightly towards himself. His eyes narrowed, focusing on the display for several seconds before he continued speaking.
“These items were recovered from a terrorist that was captured during an attack on my forward base. Nearly a dozen women under my command were slaughtered, many of them due to my order to take at least one of them alive. It does not lessen the loss, but their sacrifice was not in vain.”
“You let your soldiers die … for this?”
“And for the prisoner, yes. It was incredibly important that we understood the abilities and motivations of our attackers. Each displayed power I have heard rumors of but had never witnessed for myself … Powers very similar to your own, Mr. Finn.”
“My, what? Captured? Is she here … is she?”
I couldn’t continue. I just stared at the expressionless face of the alien captain. I tried to convey my question through eye contact alone. I tried to will him to tell me if she was still alive. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.
Sebbit watched me as I gasped helplessly. He denied me even the simple mercy of telling me what had happened, and if she was still alive. He stood, looking down at me for a moment before turning silently towards the door.
“Sebbit, answer me, you son of a bitch. I’ll do whatever you want, just tell me!”
I banged on the table and the cheap metal legs bent, sending it across the floor where it smashed against the far wall. I turned and flung my stool, striking the door just as it closed.
“Sebbit, please …”
I exploded with rage, calling for him to come back — demanding that he answer me. Instead, he simply left me alone to stew in my own rage; a rage that was fueled by a thick cloud of anger and resentment. A palpable, literal cloud.
The energy I had rejected was still lingering in the small room. I allowed my anger to overcome my disgust at the unpleasant feeling of the energy. I called and it responded.
Each drop of energy fed my own anger in a self-reinforcing loop, more and more of the energy flowing into me as my anger peaked. I could feel it growing and contracting into a denser and denser sphere — as if building up to a critical mass before going critical. I felt as though I would explode.
The small amount of energy I had absorbed previously fought with the new energy, trying to contain and convert it. Soon there would be more of the new energy, and it would overwhelm the defenders. Soon …
Stop, Finn …
The voice barely registered as I allowed the energy to continue to control me. I no longer had to direct it, it came willingly, picking up speed as it spiraled around me like a drain that led directly into my soul. My body shook and ached, but I continued.
Finn, you must stop … Please.
The voice was different this time. It was comforting and familiar — feminine.
Please, calm down.
"Liv?” I asked. “How can you be …”
My rage gradually dwindled, and with it the rage-filled energy slowed, allowing the black-red energy of madness to exert control once more. The energy slowly stabilized and was absorbed, growing the tiny bit I had collected previously.
That brief interruption had been enough to interrupt the cycle of hate and anger. The break was enough, barely. Without it, I might have been lost and unable to break free of the hatred and anger that had run wild in me. I still felt it, but I recognized the rage as my own. I had kept it bottled for too long.
“You’re there,” I whispered. “I can feel you in my mind. I thought I was finally free of you, but you’re just one more reminder. One more failure added to the pile.”
I felt exhausted, no longer having the will or energy to be angry. I was drained, almost apathetic. Nothing mattered. All I could do was accept the truth. Liv was gone, maybe in ways I couldn’t even comprehend. Could it be true?
“Come out, Fisher! Dark Gemini, Avatar of … Whatever you are, you know more than you are telling me. You wanted me on your side, well now you’ve got me.”
I waited, but the creature had gone silent once more. I had a vague sense of it in the back of my mind. It was weak and struggling to remain awake. Our connection was beginning to be restored but was not yet strong enough for me to borrow its senses or pinpoint its location. Or was it the other one speaking with me?
“Help me find her, and I’ll do whatever you want.”
But the Fisher did not answer. Instead, my ravings were interrupted by two sets of impossibly strong arms that lifted me by the shoulders and dragged me into a narrow, dimly lit hallway.
***
Sometime later, the door to my cell was opened and a green-skinned Peacekeeper deposited a thin metal tray on the floor before turning and leaving. She never said so much as a word, not that any of them had. My keepers were not the chatty type.
The tray contained more of the red fruit and another dull, gray slice of bread. Beside it was a tin cup of water. I ignored it, as I had done the last half-dozen. The trays would come, and then be picked up an hour later — each time untouched.
“You need your strength,” said a faint voice.
“I don’t care.”
“They want you for something.” The faint outline of a small bird was hidden in the shadows that filled the opposite corner. “This waiting is nothing more than theatrics meant to break you, to make you beg them to do whatever it is that they want from us.”
“So, why have you finally decided to show up?” I sa
id. “Your timing is perfect, as usual. And what is it that you think they want?”
“I’m nothing more than a little bird,” the creature said. “What could I tell you?”
“If that were true, you’d leave me alone. What the hell do you want?”
I slumped down and let me head lean back against the cool wall. I found the cold touch relaxing, perhaps my last remaining pleasure.
“Did you come to torture me with meaningless riddles, or did you just stop by to say hi? Perhaps you want to tell me that one of my best friends is either dead or working with a cult of murderers?”
My dry, brittle throat burned in agony with each syllable I spoke.
“No, Finn,” the creature said. “While you’ve been wallowing in your own misery, I’ve been trapped in mine. Mind.” The creature laughed with a sickly wheeze. “They’ll be back, and when they do, we’ll be ready.”
“Ready how?” I asked. “You can’t possibly think we could escape this place. Catayla alone would take us out, not to mention Sebbit and his army of giant warrior women.”
“Escape?” I could feel the creature grin despite it being nothing more than the silhouette of a small bird that had no lips or teeth.
“No, my boy, they are going to let us go.”
Chapter Thirty-nine: Family Ties
Four years ago …
As I opened the door to my room, my senses were assaulted by perfume and the pleasant smell of ozone and freshly turned earth that always followed a thunderstorm. I could feel a gentle breeze caress my face and I heard the rhythmic thumping of an open shutter swaying in the wind. The curtains billowed and swelled like blue sails as gusts of wind blew through an open window.
“Shit, Liv,” I said. “Can you close that window?”
“Oh … Sorry,”
She reached out and pulled the two halves of the window closed. As the wooden frame clicked shut the howls of the wind died down to a quiet whimper.
“I should have texted first,” she said, plopping down on my dry formerly dry sheets, “but I just needed to see you. I hope it’s okay?”
Her nose scrunched up as she pulled her lips into a tight smile. I gave up on trying to pretend I was angry. Her effortless cuteness was like a reset button for my nerves. It was like a superpower she’d had since we were kids.
“Of course,” I said “though you know you can use the front door? You’re more welcome at my house than I am.” I stared at her for a few moments – my eyes lingered on the pink dress that clung to the gentle curves of her hips. “Uh, you’re soaking wet. Just wait here, I’ll get you a towel.”
I gave her a smile as I walked towards the closed door of my bathroom. I opened it while making sure to keep the door angled so she couldn’t see the mess inside.
“Here.” I tossed her a white, folded towel and closed the door with a gentle click.
As she caught the towel she smiled, tracing the gold embroidery with her finger. I tried to hide my embarrassment, ignoring the fact that she had clearly seen my initials, AFF, sewn into the towel in flowery script.
“That was a gift from the parentals,” I said. “Haven’t even used it yet so it should be clean.”
I rubbed the back of my head with one hand and looked down at my feet. When I looked back up at Liv she had stood back up and was looking out the window, watching the retreating storm clouds.
She held the towel down at her side. It hung loosely, still unused and partly folded.
“So… where’s Troy?” I asked “He’s been avoiding me all week. You have been, too. I miss you guys.”
“Troy hasn’t been avoiding you, Gus. He’s just been working through some stuff, is all. Me too.” Her voice trailed off at the end, and for a moment I could detect sadness in her eyes.
“What kinda —”
“I’m pregnant.”
“That’s…” I started. I just stood there like an idiot for a few moments. “Why are you telling me this? I mean we’re only juniors, for Cris… Are you going to finish the school year? Does Troy know?”
“Yeah, I told him when I found out last week,” she said. “He knows it’s his and he asked me to marry him.”
She turned and stared at me with unblinking eyes. I could see her determination from the way she protruded her jaw slightly, something she always did when trying to look serious.
“Are you sure it’s? I mean, how far… how many weeks?”
“That’s not important, Gus. Just promise me you’ll leave it alone, okay? I love you both … but it’s his baby, okay?”
“Alright, Liv...”
I regretted the words instantly. I screamed internally as I raged at myself to take them back. I didn’t want it to be okay, but I refused to come between my two best friends. They'd been together since almost the beginning, as I quietly carried my torch.
“Just tell me one thing,” I said, trying to hide the quiver in my voice.
She glanced up, and we locked eyes for a few moments. I burned the image of her face into my memory. Her blue eyes were framed by lines of running mascara and golden curls that threatened to consume her face at any moment. Her mouth was drawn tight and her red lips were slightly puckered.
“I love you, Liv,” I said. She started to say something, but I reached out and placed my hand on her shoulder. “You’re my best friend. You both are.”
I removed my hand from her shoulder and placed it over her clenched fist, drawing it up to my chest. I could feel her hand shaking, but her face kept the same calm look of determination.
“I’ll always be here for you and Troy. The baby too.”
***
“I was expecting your father.”
The blue-scaled alien looked down at me and blinked. The slowness of the action is what made it so strange. Multiple translucent membranes rotated inward like the iris of a camera as her two main eyelids slowly drifted closed. As her eyes opened the thin membranes of her inner eyelids slowly unfolded.
“Captain Xern told you?” she asked. “He’s generally more … circumspect.”
“Not in so many words, but I figured it out. He seems proud, Catayla, I mean you did manage to set a trap for the notorious Augustus Finn. You’re the first girl to succeed, though many have tried. I think that deserves a pat on the back.”
“I’ve enjoyed your entirely inappropriate quips, Finn,” she said. “My mother once told me the best way to judge a warrior was by how she responded to loss, and you’ve lost as much as anyone. That’s not why you wanted to talk though, is it?”
“Lost as much…” I shrugged. “I’m not sure how to take that, so I’ll just call it a compliment.”
“Why are we here, Finn? I didn’t get the feeling that you were too interested in social calls during our last conversation.”
“I want to see Troy Swanson.”
“Who’s …”
“You took a photo and some kind of device off a captured cultist,” I said. “Your dearest dad made it seem like you had captured the woman in the picture, but I know that isn’t true.”
Catayla began to talk, but I raised a hand and asked her to wait. It had been a week since she had last come to see me, and despite my anger, I was enjoying the company and was in no rush to end it. It certainly beats talking to shadows and smoke. Or myself.
“How long has it been since you last came to see me?”
“Six days, Finn. Twelve since you were first taken into custody.”
“Not even two weeks …”
I had been experiencing two sets of sensory inputs since reestablishing my connection to the Fisher; combined with long stretches of time spent in meditation and the windowless cell, I had lost all concept of time’s passing.
“Look, I’ve enjoyed your hospitality. It's been grand, though a book or two wouldn't have hurt ... but, I also know the pillar of light is growing stronger, and that you’ve fended off attacks at least three times while you’ve been keeping me here to rot. I want to help.”
Catayla’s eyes
narrowed and she bared her small, sharp teeth in an expression I had come to associate with a frown or grimace. The Peacekeepers, or Kree as their species was called, were hard to read at first, but once you learned to look for the subtle changes, they were no more complicated than humans.
I waited before continuing. I had played through this conversation in my mind many times, and I experienced a strange sense of déjà vu when I finally spoke the words aloud. Catayla seemed in no rush to continue the conversation either. She merely sat across from me, watching me with unreadable eyes and a cold empty expression.
“The attacks are growing worse, aren’t they?”
“How?” she asked, her cool finally broken.
“Never mind, I am aware of your ‘Dark Gemini’, but that’s impossible. You’ve been Censored, and your class sealed.”
“Not all power is external, Catayla. This is all me, no assembly required. That’s not why we are here, though. I can get to Liv, and I can stop her, or whoever is controlling her. At the very least I can get her to tell me what the fuck is going on.”
“How do you know we don’t already have her?” Catayla asked. “We’ve captured several cultists over the past weeks.”
“Look,” I said. “Liv is as vain and flawed as anyone, but do you really think she carries a photo of herself? On her phone, sure, but an old printed wallet photo? It’s just not her style. Besides, I’ve seen that photo before, and it was in Troy’s wallet.”
“And you think he’ll tell you where she is? He hasn’t given our best interrogators anything, and you don’t even want to imagine what they are capable of. Trust me when I say that you’ve been treated well.”
“You’ve just told me that he’s alive and that you have him,” I sat back and crossed my arms. “Not bad, for a human.”
I smiled and steepled my fingers. I took several breaths and spoke slowly, trying to project an image of calmness and confidence. I could feel the Fisher grinning; the conversation was surprisingly close to how the creature had said it would go.
