Ontarian Chronicles 3: City of Tears

by Cyndi Friberg

  She shook her head and motioned toward the cupboards. “I’d like some more blish.”

  “Has this sort of thing happened before?” He retrieved the supplies as he spoke ... his manner as calm and composed as he could make it. “That seemed like more than just an erotic dream.”

  “I dreamt of my first kill.”

  He paused and looked at her. He’d heard of warriors who went into a lustful frenzy after battle. Had she been conditioned to react that way? “Did you want to make the kill?”

  “No. It was a senseless act.”

  “What made you do it?” He kept his voice low and conversational, while compassion squeezed his heart.

  “I was hungry and ...”

  “You were deprived of food by your handler, or you ended the life so you could eat?”

  “My handler utilized a variety of motivations -- isolation, starvation, humiliation, and pain.”

  “Those are textbook behavioral control techniques.” Unable to stay the impulse, he lightly touched her arm. “If you’ll let me help you, I can figure out exactly what they did to you and why.”

  “I know what they did to me, and why was never a mystery.”

  What he knew about Saebin only scratched the surface of what she’d endured. Each incident she entrusted to him, each vulnerability she revealed, made him all the more determined to protect her. Whether she wanted one or not, she’d found a friend.

  “Let’s get back to what happened a few minutes ago.” He nodded toward the section of the bench where they’d sat earlier. “I’d love to think you were overcome by my masculine appeal, but you had no trouble shoving me away in the shower.”

  They sat, and she took several sips of blish. Turning her face away, she stared across the room.

  He touched her chin, bringing her head back toward him. “You don’t consider yourself a virgin, yet you’d never been kissed. It doesn’t take a lot of imagination to figure out what you’re not telling me.”

  “I was never raped, if that’s what you’re thinking. Pleasure can be used just as ruthlessly as pain.” He continued to stroke her face, tracing her jaw line and the crest of her cheek. Even though he kept his touch light and caressing, he half expected her to retreat. “We were allowed access to simulators when we achieved our objectives.”

  “And if you failed or refused to cooperate?”

  “I was injected with something that ... made me unbearably aroused, then vivid images, sexual images, were transmitted across my neurolink. All the while I was strapped to a treatment table, unable to bring myself relief from the burning desire. After several hours, my implants overloaded, so they were forced to abandon the punishment.”

  “Sexual release dispersed the excess energy?”

  She nodded and pushed back from the table, taking her body out of his reach. Drawing her legs up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around her knees. “That’s why my weapon discharged. Can we talk about something else now?”

  “We can talk about anything you like, or we don’t have to talk at all.”

  “Tell me something about --”

  A shrill alarm interrupted her sentence. Lyrik hurried across the room and activated a security screen recessed in the firestone wall.

  “What is that noise?” she shouted above the alarm’s wail.

  “A proximity sensor was triggered.” He navigated through several screens. “Someone is sneaking around out there, but I can’t seem to find them.”

  “Is the storm still raging?”

  “It’s just about blown itself out.” He switched to a different screen and located the intruders. “They’re dressed like miners. They probably spotted my shuttle and trotted over to investigate.”

  “Are we in danger?” She stood and aimed her fists at the entrance.

  “If they have valid identification codes, I’ll talk to them. If not, I’ll arm the external cannons. Either way, they pose no threat to us. Relax.”

  “Why is a storm shelter equipped with external cannons?” She remained at ready, her gaze darting back and forth between the door and Lyrik.

  “Scavengers. Not everyone is interested in stabilizing firestone. In its natural state it’s highly explosive.”

  “How will you know if they are miners or scavengers?”

  “Only the miners have identification codes.” He turned from the screen and looked at her. “If communication has been restored at the mining headquarters, I’d like to send a message back with them. Look me in the eyes, and tell me who you are.”

  She uncurled her fingers and met his gaze. “My name is Saebin.”

  Chapter Six

  Lyrik accepted her statement with a stiff nod and turned back to the control console. This was her first test. No, it was their first test. He couldn’t return with her to the City of Tears until he was certain she could control her abilities. But first he had to determine if they were dealing with uninvited guests or thieves.

  He activated external audio. “This shelter is in lockdown. Identify yourselves.”

  “By whose authority have you commandeered the shelter?” The taller of the two intruders asked.

  “Validate your identification, and I’ll explain.”

  By turns the miners stepped up to the panel beside the door and stated their alphanumeric code which activated a retinal scanner. “Authorized mining personnel, Fem cet Mintar. Authorized mining personnel, Merseth.” The computer confirmed their identities.

  Lyrik switched on visual, allowing the miners to see him. “Commander Lyrik cet Barrel.”

  “We thought that was your shuttle, sir.” The taller one continued the conversation. “Just wanted to make sure everything was sat. Those damn NRS gophers get hungrier every turn. We’ve had to triple our patrols.”

  “No problems here. Is your com center operational?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Notify the overlord that I’ve located our stray and all is well.”

  “Yes, sir.” He glanced at his companion. “Can we be of any assistance?”

  “I have everything under control.”

  “I’ll relay your message.”

  “Barrel out.” Lyrik turned from the console and looked into Saebin’s terrified gaze. “What’s wrong?” He took a step toward her, and she raised her hand, her expression hardening in the blink of an eye. “They were miners on patrol. There’s no danger.”

  “I understood every word you said. Why can I understand your language?”

  Lyrik thought back. He hadn’t even realized he’d switched to Ontarian, but she was right. She shouldn’t have been able to understand him.

  “Sat is short for satisfactory, but it’s also a code used to ask if a communication is being relayed under duress. The miner was asking if someone was holding a gun to your head.” She advanced, hostility burning away the remnants of her fear. “The NRS is the New Reformation Sect, a group of zealots who have recently turned dangerous. They take the unstable firestones and use them to make bombs. Why do I know these things, Commander?”

  He held his ground, knowing any show of weakness would encourage her aggression. “I was contacted this morning when they were ready to bring you out of stasis. I knew a team of engineers had been --”

  She fired a shot precariously close to his head. “They brought me out of stasis for the first time shortly after I arrived on this world. I don’t think they realize how often I was aware, how much I heard.” Pressing her fist against the underside of his jaw, she glared into his eyes. “What is your objective?”

  “Can you tell when a person is lying?” He watched her eyes, ready to counter her move if she decided to do more than glare. A tiny light flashed, so quickly he never would have seen it if he hadn’t been staring into her eyes. All the denials in the world wouldn’t matter if she didn’t believe him. “I was told you were in stasis until this morning, and I had no reason to doubt what I’d been told.”

  “He’s your father! Overlord Cyrus cet Barrel, Supreme Commander of the Cit
y of Tears, is your father.”

  “Yes, but I’m Commander of the Tempest. I spend far more time in space than on the Day Moon. The City of Tears is my father’s domain. I have little to do with what goes on there.” Her posture didn’t change. She kept her fist positioned to fry his brain. “Think this through, Saebin. What do you accomplish by killing me? Where will you go? What will you do?”

  Her jaw clenched, and her nostrils flared. “You told me I’d been rescued, that Ontariese is my home. The engineers aren’t trying to free me from this technological prison; they want to replicate it.” She stepped back, but her hand shifted, targeting his heart. “That’s the only reason they’ve kept me alive.”

  “I knew none of this.”

  “The Tempest is a spaceship?”

  “Yes.” Lyrik couldn’t think about his father right now. Anger would make him careless, and Saebin was teetering on a razor’s edge. The smallest pressure would send her plummeting into the familiar protection of D-159. She needed options. He couldn’t take her to the Conservatory. No weapons of any kind were allowed beyond the Mystic shields.

  “What purpose does your ship serve?”

  She was assessing him, gauging the truthfulness of his statements. “The Tempest is used for a variety of missions, from simple merchant runs to highly classified recon.”

  “Is Ontariese still at war? What does your father want with me?”

  “I don’t know.” But he sure as hell meant to find out. He and his father butted heads on occasion. Cyrus often focused on the outcome of a situation, while Lyrik also considered the means. Those who experienced the advent of the Great Conflict tended to be more willing to accept sacrifice. Still, Lyrik couldn’t begin to imagine how his father would justify this.

  “I will not be taken alive.” Her resolve sent a chill down his spine. “No one should be made to live as I have lived.”

  “I have no intention of taking you back.”

  “They will hunt me down. My armor must be retrieved, even if I am expendable.” He stepped toward her. She stepped back. “Are you expendable, too? If you are not in league with the overlord, as you claim, then your father set you up.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, dread expanding with each breath he took. “I believe it was an unhappy coincidence. The only person capable of withstanding your Mystic pulse happened to be his son.”

  She snorted. “Even if he didn’t intentionally put you in harms way, it’s a poor reflection on his priorities.” Lowering her hand, she shook her head. “I could gut you and leave you on his doorstep, and I would still have nowhere to go.”

  Anger flared through his uncertainty. She’d known nothing but manipulation and degradation her entire life. This was supposed to be a new start. He’d promised her freedom, and it appeared his own father had taken up where Hydran left off.

  “Tell me about Krysta,” she said in a quiet, unsteady tone.

  He inhaled with slow deliberateness. Krysta had so much to lose if D-159 took over again, and Krysta was the one person on Ontariese who wouldn’t hesitate if he asked for her assistance. He was going to confront his father, but getting Saebin to safety had to come first.

  “You and Krysta have the same father. You may have the same mother also, I’m not sure.”

  “It’s complicated?” Sarcasm made her tone brittle. “Does she have powers that led her to believe I couldn’t hurt her?”

  “She has memories that led her to believe you wouldn’t hurt her.”

  “We were close -- before?”

  “Yes.” He didn’t like where this was leading. He couldn’t take her to Krysta, not at her villa anyway. If Trey learned what Saebin had done in the interrogation room, things could get ugly.

  Lyrik sighed. How much did Trey know? He was Director of Covert Ops. It was likely Saebin was being groomed as a covert agent. He shook his head, dispelling the momentary doubt. Trey had led the team responsible for reducing Operation Hydra to ashes. There was no way he was involved.

  An image formed within his mind, and Lyrik shuddered. Dro Tar Nex was unconventional, owing allegiance to no one. Yet she was unflaggingly dedicated to the greater good. It made perfect sense. Still, Lyrik hesitated. Dro Tar was unpredictable to say the least. His father despised her, which was to their advantage. Lyrik heaved a frustrated sigh and squared his shoulders.

  “I think I know where I can take you.”

  “Why should I trust you?”

  “Do you have a better idea?” She crossed her arms over her chest and fell silent. “Don’t look so glum, sweetheart. You’re about to get your wish. I don’t see a way around it. We’re going to Ontariese.”

  * * * * *

  Ensley cet Roumi pushed away from her desk and stood. She’d been staring at the equation for the past hour with no result. The answer would come to her; it always did. She just needed some sleep.

  Perched atop one of the Day Moon’s many peaks, her office overlooked the City of Tears. Far more elegant than any of the cities she’d seen on Earth, the irony of its military purpose amused her. Like a high-priced whore, the City of Tears possessed physical perfection and a soul that was rotten and convoluted.

  She crossed to the massive window that dominated one wall. “Rotate slats forty percent.” The Night Moon bathed her face in silvery light, the tranquility mocking her discontent. She’d experienced more in the eighteen months she’d arrived on Ontariese than in all the years that had gone before. Still, it wasn’t enough. Or perhaps it was too much. Ensley couldn’t explain her restlessness.

  Her privacy sensor beeped, and she glanced toward the door. “Come in.” She didn’t turn around, but watched Cyrus stride across her office in the window.

  He strutted through life with the arrogance of royalty, while he fought to abolish the status quo. He railed against the “evil Mystics,” when what he really wanted was the power inherent in their existence. If he learned the true scope of her abilities, would she be evil, too?

  “Did Lyrik find her?” she asked with a casualness she didn’t feel. Saebin had fought the programming harder than any of the other occupants of ward D. Just when Ensley was convinced Saebin would have to be destroyed, she’d turned into the most powerful weapon Operation Hydra had ever seen.

  “Why are you standing in the dark?” Cyrus clasped his hands behind his back, meeting her gaze in the window.

  “I like the dark.” She turned to face him. “I need the quiet, and you can’t find that here during the day.”

  “Undoubtedly.” Desire erupted in his gaze, but he never touched her. He needed her expertise more than he wanted her body, and they both knew it.

  “Did you solve the equation?” His tone was low and caressing.

  “No.” She shrugged. Cyrus was so easy to provoke, it almost took the fun out of it -- almost. “The equation won this round. I’m going home.”

  Folding his arms over his brawny chest, he pressed his mouth into a grim line. “The Rodytes arrive tomorrow. Lyrik just sent a message confirming his recapture of D-159, but I hardly think she’s ready for a demonstration. Do you?”

  “We use the equation to stall them until D-159 is more malleable?”

  “Something like that.” He paused, his gaze searching her face. “You’ve had no interaction with the Rodytes, but I have. They are ruthless and barbaric. You have no idea what they’re capable of. You must rely on me to --”

  “Don’t patronize me, Overlord.” She sneered. “Out there you might command a minor mystique, but I know the truth.”

  “Do you?” One side of his mouth curved in a smirk. “How do you perceive the truth?”

  “The only reason I didn’t approach the Rodytes directly is because they won’t negotiate with a woman. You need my designs to attract their interest, and I need you to get through the door.”

  “The door will remain permanently closed unless we deliver on our promises. One of our promises is MIA at the moment, so you better get busy on the other!” His volume escalat
ed with each word.

  “Browbeating me isn’t going to solve the equation. I’m tired. Even someone of your renown can understand ...” He raised his hand, and her words trailed away. Fury twisted through her gut. Not using her Mystic abilities to slam him across the room nearly snapped her self-control. “Don’t ever raise your hand to me again.” Her tone was cold and lethal.

  A strained moment passed as they glared at each other.

  Cyrus lowered his hand.

  “The Rodytes are not the only society interested in this technology. They just happen to be the most convenient.” She didn’t need to spell out the rest. If he kept pushing, she’d disappear and her designs with her. “Will Lyrik bring her back?”

  “Of course. He’s my son.”

  She arched her brows at his certainty. “And she’s a beautiful woman.”

  “What does that have to do with anything? Lyrik was given an order by his overlord. He will return D-159 in the morning.”

  “If you say so.” She smiled, knowing it would piss him off. “I’d suggest enacting a contingency plan just in case.”

  Cyrus planted his fists on his hips and raised his chin. “If Lyrik betrays me, I’ll send a clean up team after both of them.”

  “Can I have your word on that?” If Saebin managed to gain control over D-159 the only option was disposal. If she recruited Lyrik in the process, he became a liability as well.

  “You worry about the equation. I’ll worry about my son.”

  “I’m not worried about the equation. All I need is a few hours of sleep.”

  “Then why are we arguing?”

  Because you’re a pompous ass! The comment would only prolong their pointless conversation, so she headed for the door. If Lyrik didn’t return with D-159 as promised, she would take care of the problem herself. “I’ll com you in the morning.”

  * * * * *

  Saebin stared at the violet-tinted sky, trying to reconcile the color with the vivid blue so persistent in her memory. A pale pink cloud drifted by as the shuttle descended toward Frontine. The city spread before them in a splendid cluster of towering buildings and perpetual motion. Twin trams extended as far as the eye could see, one on top of the other, the cars speeding in opposite directions. Many of the smaller buildings sported rooftop solariums. Capped with retractable domes, the greenery provided a pleasant contrast to the endless sea of alloy and transparent composite.