I Am Not Junco Omnibus: Books Four - Six

by J. A. Huss

  She starts nodding and then puts her arms around me. “OK, I will, I promise. Just port us to the Stag because I have to know what’s going on with that baby.”

  “Well, first off, that’s not a baby, Selia. It’s a… a… thing. It’s not a baby. OK? Babies are human, it’s not human.”

  I can see she’s in the mood to argue that point with me, so I shush her with a hug and we move through time together and exit the shift in the middle of the Stag Camp ruins. Most of the buildings were burned to the ground because Tier blew them up before we ever took Junco off Earth that first time and no one bothered to rebuild out here.

  But one building still stands.

  I asked Tier why he left it back then, but he never answered. I learned later that this was Gideon and Junco’s home.

  “God,” Selia says. “I’ve heard about this place so many times, ya know? But I’ve never seen it.” I feel her shiver and put a hand on her shoulder. “When I was a kid in the Mountain Republic they used to teach us about the Stag in school. All that talk about secret genetic projects, mutants, monsters, and all sorts of things kids use as fodder for nightmares.” She stops for a second to look me in the eyes. “It still scares me.”

  “You can stay here if you want,” I offer.

  “No,” she replies quickly. “I need to see this baby.”

  I ignore the baby remark and let go of her hand. “OK, we’re on the clock now. Follow and obey.”

  “Yes, sir,” she says, and not in a sexy joking way, either. She’s all business now.

  The last remaining building is nondescript, really. It’s made up of cinder block painted a very pale orange. If things all had a color assigned to them, like a living being has an aura, then the Stag would be orange. I’m not sure why—maybe it’s the tall grass, dry and brown as it waves in the wind. Or maybe it’s the deep russet soil that makes you think of Mars. I’m not sure, really. But the color of this building practically announces that we’re in the Stag.

  I walk forward, past the remnants of something that might’ve been a shooting range, based on the shell casings on the ground and the pockmarked wall of earth that was probably the downrange target. I take it all in as we approach the warrior manning the main door.

  He snaps out a salute to me first, then Selia. She outranks him because she’s 039, even if she’s not a warrior. I salute back. “Who’s inside?”

  “Sir, Fledge Team Warriors Merkar, Pike, Tessen, and Fledge Science Officer Wyrd.”

  Why we still call these guys the Fledge Team is unknown. We just do. They’ve never been assigned a number, they’ve never been given a role, really. They don’t even have a commander, because technically their commander is Tier, and Tier ignores them most of the time. So Annun is the leader of the Fledge team, but Annun is almost never with them either because he’s practically connected to Tier at the hip. So, I guess that makes Merk the ranking officer, except Tessen and Pike don’t ever listen. And Bridge, Cres, and Tak were just tag-alongs.

  Their unit is a complete fuck-up. Not at all the team you want running a demon baby in a secret camp a couple of days ahead of the Angel Apocalypse.

  “And,” the warrior continues, “that thing, Sir. It’s been drugged into a coma, but it’s still iffy. Be careful.”

  “I appreciate the warning, warrior.” I look back at Sel. “Stay close, OK?” She nods and the warrior flashes his palm against the biometrics, the doors slide open, and we walk through into a hazy darkness reminiscent of dawn or twilight.

  The doors swoosh closed behind us and I’m just about to breathe out and relax when the screaming starts.

  Chapter Thirteen—LUCAN

  “You can let him up now.” I speak avian in my demon voice as my father stares at me. “That’s your grandson you’re impaling, you do realize that, correct?”

  His stare never wavers, but his knives withdraw from Rikan’s ribcage and I bend down and pull Rikan to his feet. The holes are already healing, the blood stopped.

  “Impressive,” my father says.

  “Yes, well, I took all necessary precautions with his gifts since he’s related to you. His healing skills are unmatched.” I stop and curl my lip. “I do mean unmatched, so let’s not waste time on him.” I turn to Rikan. “Back to Earth with you. Bring us the Seven.”

  My father reaches out and grabs Rikan’s arm and forces him to be still. “Not so fast,” he says in English. I have to give him credit for that because the last time he was this close to Earth, English didn’t exist. His absorption rate has surely increased. “What’s your name?”

  Rikan stumbles over his words for a few seconds and I put a calming hand on the shoulder nearest me. “Rikan,” he finally says. “Number twenty-seven.”

  “Only twenty-seven. Such restraint!”

  I shrug. “I hate children.”

  “As do I.”

  “Rikan, to Earth. Bring the Seven.”

  “No, Rikan. We’ll go to Earth together.” He stops to watch my reaction, but I lock this one down. “After the trial. We’re not animals, we believe in Justice. Speaking of which, where is Rache? And that blubbering geneticist?”

  I call for them in my mind and seconds later my Fallen brothers appear.

  “Gib,” I say as I turn to him. “Aesin was just telling me how little he thinks of your skills.”

  “Is that right,” Gib says with a smirk. “They were good enough to drive him away, though, weren’t they?” We chuckle together, like this is a joke.

  My father nods and smiles. “Lucan, your trick bought you four months of time. Four months. Is this really something you should be proud of?”

  It’s Rache who answers this time. We’re a team after all. “Four months on your calendar. But for us, seven thousands years, Aesin. And let me remind you the life cycle of a human is one hundred twenty, under the most optimal conditions. We can breed them at fifteen and make adjustments. So every millisecond that passed on your calendar, we bred a new genetic line. That’s a lot of offspring, Aesin. A lot of human children. A lot of raw data.”

  “So what took you so long?” he laughs.

  We all laugh then, even Rikan. It’s a good one, right from the belly.

  Aesin shuts his trap.

  “They’re insane.” I laugh again. “I can’t wait to show you Junco. Your Seven!” I clasp my hands and rub them together a little. “She’s spectacular. The only true Seven to live after dozens of live trials on Earth where each Seven child was raised until it had to be put down. She came of age and she is why you were called. She is all you have left.”

  His expression is cautious, perhaps sensing something, but he remains passive with this bit of news. “I can’t wait to meet her.”

  “Rikan can bring her now.”

  “No, we will proceed to trial. You must be found guilty first.”

  “Well, at least the pretenses are over. I’m guilty before the trial, what’s the difference?”

  “Rikan.” He ignores my question. “You are mine now. I’m not sure what culture your father taught you during his punishment cycle, but the culture you come from believes in an eye for an eye. He took this planet from me, and now I can take something from him. I choose to take you.”

  Rikan lets out a long sigh. “Thank the fuck for that.” He smiles at my father, then leers at me as he shakes his head and turns back to Aesin. “Do you have any idea what’s it’s like being his true son, yet not? Did you hear about my brothers? The illegal ones?”

  Aesin raises an eyebrow and a wing at this. “I’ll want to hear all about them, grandson. Soon.” He takes his attention back to the three of us. “But right now I’m very interested in learning more about how your father managed to overcome the genetic defects of the Fallen.”

  Gib scoffs. “I’m sure you are.”

  Aesin’s expression hardens and I cringe internally at Gib’s flippant remark. “Your brothers are mouthy, Lucan.”

  “It’s proprietary information. His remark was justified.”


  He looks at me but he speaks to Rikan. “Your father will not live through this child. I am your master now.”

  “Are you sure?” Rikan asks, his disbelief not the least bit hidden.

  Aesin looks at him and shakes his head. “Do you even know who I am?”

  A shake of the head from Rikan.

  An incredulous look from Aesin to me.

  I shrug again. I love Junco for giving me that carefree I-don’t-give-a-shit gesture.

  Aesin plucks that thought right out of my mind because I let him, but he doesn’t catch the answer, so I verbalize it instead. “She’s pretty in a psychotic small child kind of way. I’m going to keep her when all this is over. She reminds me of someone I once loved dearly.”

  I only have a fraction to digest the look on his face before the guards appear next to me and have a gamma wave inhibitor ring around my head. It immediately begins to restrict my brain wave activity and the vertigo begins. But that look was worth the binding. I fight it of course. Surely they knew I’m not so easily subdued, so I fight against it. But they have sufficient strength in the mechanism to inhibit me enough to clamp an energy restrictor onto my spine, neck, and cranium. The claws dig in, access my backbone, my brain stem and then the ring is engaged and slices a line through my skull at the eyebrow level.

  Once in place, they all squeeze simultaneously.

  I admit—this is painful.

  I breathe through it as best I can, but it’s of no use.

  The world goes black.

  I wake in a cell. My brothers unconscious next to me, my son missing.

  I adjust myself and I’m rewarded with an intense wave of nausea that starts in my stomach and exits my mouth in a pool of vomit. It makes me feel oddly human for some reason. When was the last time I was ill? Too long ago to remember.

  I chance the pain and put up with the vomit so I can see Rache and Gib. They are not faring so well and I’ll hazard a guess and say the vomiting does not make them feel manly.

  Where’s Rikan? I ask internally.

  Just gone, Rache manages. Gib doesn’t even move.

  Guards appear outside the cell line. There are no bars in an Angel prison cell. It’s all controlled via the gamma ray inhibitors attached to our nervous systems. The uniform of the guards has not changed since I’ve seen them last. Massive golden wings, tucked flat against their backs. No shirts, wrist communication device, and the armored skirt.

  And why should they look any different? It’s been four months, he said. Four. Fucking. Months.

  Of all the things that have come to light over this act of defiance, this revelation stuns me. Even though I knew this way back when I decided to defy Aesin and follow Crage’s directive, it somehow slipped my mind that they would not be waiting long.

  Time is relative. The Angels have known this for billions of years. Humans, a couple hundred. It’s not new. But I forgot, because for me it’s been seven thousand fucking years.

  Time is dependent on gravity, which for all intents and purposes is dependent on the sun you orbit and the time it takes to circle your sun once. That orbit length is the measuring stick of how fast or slow time passes.

  Thus, time on Earth passes very fast. Time on our Origin passes very, very slow in comparison.

  It almost makes me laugh, but the guards are pulling me to my feet and even after all my training—thousands of years in my world, months for these winged men—I cannot completely shut off the pain and the laugh abandons me. I can barely focus as they shuffle me down the hallway and then push me through a door to an open arena.

  Much like Deliverance, there is a stone podium in the middle which is flanked on all sides by spectators.

  My jury.

  Officiating is Aesin, of course. He is the oldest Angel present, so the duty falls to him by default.

  I’m not his only son. I’m but one of thousands. But I am the only High Order son he has. Even so, I am no one, just offspring. And yet I command them all in this moment because I have their undivided attention. I try to straighten up so as not to look so weak. It bothers me to look so weak, even if it’s necessary. My straight spine lasts only a few seconds before I slouch from the pain.

  “Lucifer,” someone calls my ancient name. “Son of the Sun, Lord of the Land. You stand before us on trial. Your charges are thus: treason.”

  I look up when silence follows the first charge.

  “What say you, Lucifer?”

  “That’s it?” I croak through the pain. “Treason? Inanna steals gifts relentlessly. She begs favors of Angels and Men alike, she trespasses in realms that are not her own and then cheats the penance required of her, she stole my Seven and amputated her wings without cause”—they gasp at that and I enjoy it for a second before continuing on—“she commits treason every day and you charge me with treason?”

  “Inanna is none of your concern, Lucifer,” the officiator replies calmly. “She has her own free will and her own commitments.”

  “She’s the traitor! And him,” I say, nodding to Aesin even though the pain of it is almost enough to make me retch. If I were to try to point, I’d probably pass out. “Aesin killed all my workers. Inanna mutilated my Seven without a virtual to subdue her! She tortured her continuously through a two-year Archer morph! Where’s my justice? Where’s my Seven’s justice? I demand to be released from my cycle and I demand that I be allowed to punish those who have wronged me and the ones I claim!”

  The officiator’s wings perch up high on his shoulders and he gives me a dirty look. When he speaks his voice is impassive. “You do realize you’re on trial? We’re not here to listen to your grievances. You tried to extinguish the avian race.”

  “He tried to extinguish the human race!” I laugh and then choke on the shooting pain up my spine from the effort. “And you are not avian. I attempted to extinguish an Angel. One,” I emphasize, “one solitary, filthy fucking Angel. The one who above all else needs to be ended. And even though my actions only bought me time, I will never stop until I end him.”

  My head is knocked back from the force of the blow and I go careening across the smooth stone slab. Pain from all that movement makes me roar in agony. I am on fire, the heat travels up and down my spine in a wave, and then more blows make sure it doesn’t stop. My great black wings are unfurled from my back and pressed against the cross.

  They pin me there, like an offering.

  They crucify me in the name of Aesin.

  I am writhing in my own pain when the whispers travel across my cheek, a temporary reprieve from the waves traveling into my ear and shutting off the affected parts of my nervous system.

  “Lucifer,” my father says softly. “Lucifer, you are in no position to finish anything right now. I saved you from Inanna’s wrath. She asked Ea for you specifically. He denied her, because you are mine to deal with. But I left her on Earth to watch you, my son. I left her to spy. She told me all about your little love affair with Junco Coot. I already know this girl. Very well. Your Seven? I don’t believe so, Lucifer. I have seen this girl already, I have been to Earth, I gave Inanna permission to amputate her wings and force her change. I command this girl. She is mine. Inanna is mine. Inanna outlives you, Lucifer, and she will rule the Earth Depot when you are gone.”

  I pull every bit of strength together in that moment. Everything I’m made of, everything I’ve ever learned about their torture methods, and I push the pain into a dark trunk to keep it at bay just long enough to say, “I am Lucan. And I will end you—I promise.”

  The pain ratchets through my limbs this time, every nerve cell synapsing in a pattern that only makes sense to my captors. My back buckles against the beam as I writhe. They pin my feet and then my hands, but I surprise myself and push it away one more time.

  “I will end you,” I repeat, but this time it’s a scream of desperation that echoes off the walls of the justice theater and bounces back to me.

  And then my world goes black as my own sound waves attack my body
.

  Chapter Fourteen—LUCAN

  Tigris-Euphrates River Delta

  5000 BC

  Women.

  It’s always, always the women.

  They drive him crazy.

  I stare out from the overseer’s terrace, the hot wind whipping my skin and drying my wings. I hate the desert and I can’t wait to leave this place. Earth is… I try to find words. Earth is heavy with gravity that pulls me apart and shortens my life. Earth is a hell I want to put behind me as quickly as I possibly can.

  Nothing has gone right. The workers are unhappy, the slaves are unhappy, Aesin is back from his punishment angrier and meaner than ever. I stay away when I can, but the native women in my fields draw his attention. He’s back to torturing them, raping them and killing the offspring he creates.

  He’s insane.

  “It’s over,” my uncle says from behind me. “It’s over, Lucifer. Admit it. This is a disaster. He is unreachable.”

  “He’s in charge,” I say simply. “What am I supposed to do? I’m no one. I am just one son among so many. I have no authority.”

  “I will give you the authority.”

  I sigh and then turn to see he’s reaching out, thrusting a vial at me. “Take it to the geneticist. Tell him what to do.”

  I do not take the vial. I ignore that vial. “You’re insane too, Crage.” And I mean that. These elders are all touched. They’ve lived too long, they’ve survived too much. They value nothing. “I’m not doing it. I’m following his orders, I’m completing my mission, and I’m going home. You’ll not find a partner in me. There is nothing about this planet I enjoy.”