by Elana Brooks
Remorse tried to worm in beneath his fury. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. Even if she did deserve it for what she’d done to him.
If she’d shown even a hint of pain or distress, he might have softened. But she only stooped to pick up the shoe, gripping it as if she intended to beat him with it. “You motherfucking gringo bastard,” she hissed. “You’d better stay the hell away from me. I swear if you ever come near me again, I’ll ruin you. The media would love to hear about this. How long will the university let you keep your job when they find out you had sex with a student and then assaulted her?”
A different fear flooded Steve. Her threat was all too plausible. “You wouldn’t.”
“You just try me.” She dropped the sandals and shoved her feet into them. The buckles flopped loose. “I was enjoying myself before you turned into a raving psycho. So I won’t go to the authorities unless you make me. But if you ever threaten me, or approach me for any reason, I’ll be there so fast your head will spin.”
“That works for me,” Steve said. “I never want to see you again.”
She looked him up and down with disgust. “UCLA is a big school. You stick to your part, and I’ll stick to mine.”
“It’s a deal.” Steve abruptly remembered he was still naked. He slammed the door.
He stumbled to the bathroom, humiliation heating his face and souring his stomach. He cleaned himself with quick, harsh movements, the discomfort a fitting accompaniment to his shame. He’d let himself be used in the most degrading way. He’d eagerly fallen into her trap, slobbering after the bait she dangled so temptingly before him.
She must have slipped something into his drink; there was no other explanation for the bizarre hallucinations he’d experienced. Clearly she’d been planning this for a long time. He’d described his nightmares once, to the therapist his parents had dragged him to when his disturbed sleep started affecting his schoolwork. Rosalia must have dug up the records somehow and figured out how to use the information against him.
If he hadn’t seen through her ruse, she would have used him for money and fame as well as sex. And when her fabricated powers inevitably crumbled beneath the weight of truth, she’d disappear, leaving him the laughingstock of the scientific community. Everyone would know Steve Miller was so gullible all it took was a pretty face and a few cheap hooker’s tricks to make him fall for a transparent deceit.
He put on his robe, poured himself a double shot of whiskey, and sat down at the kitchen table. Gradually as he drank, he calmed, until when the glass was empty he was back to something he could pretend approximated his normal equanimity. He’d had a narrow escape, but nothing had changed. He’d go back to work tomorrow just like always. His tests would proceed as planned, clearly demonstrating that minds invariably stayed neatly trapped inside their skulls. Rosalia would know better than to ever approach him again.
His nightmares would remain just that. Nightmares. Dreams. Dragons would never fly down from the heavens, breathing out floods of water to drown the earth. Not ten years from now, as Rosalia had predicted, nor fifteen years from now, as his dreams insisted. Dragons and telepathy and precognition were all equally imaginary.
The bed smelled like Rosalia. So did the couch. Steve dragged a blanket from a closet and rolled up in the hallway. Tomorrow he’d call the maids in ahead of schedule and have them launder soiled sheets and washcloths, empty trashcans of used condoms and empty bottles, scrub the whole apartment with strongly scented disinfectant. After that he’d never have to think of Rosalia again.
Steve fell asleep and dreamed of dragons. The commander gloated to the navigator, “We’ll take them by surprise. Those pitiful creatures will never suspect a thing.”
Chapter 6
Present
Keiko lingered as long as possible in the hazy space between sleep and waking. Surely this time when she opened her eyes she’d be stretched out on her own beloved futon, Solomon slumbering beside her, the dawn light pouring in through the window of their cozy, elegant New York apartment. She would yawn and stretch and climb out of bed to start water heating for the tea they both loved, his the strong dark brew of his Russian childhood, hers the delicate green of her Japanese youth. They would sit at their tiny table, amid the eclectic mix of artwork they’d accumulated during their travels around the world, and talk over the Covenant business that awaited them. Perhaps they’d astrally visit one of HBQ’s far-flung offices. Perhaps they’d spend the day in the gym and workshop and meditation garden, training the strongest of the new recruits. Or perhaps there would be a meeting of the Eight, for each of them to report on their activities and for all of them together to refine the strategy they would follow when the Seraphim reached Earth.
But no matter how hard she fought to stay asleep, the moment came when she could no longer deny reality. She opened her eyes to see blank steel walls through a haze of gray mist. At least her astral form wasn’t stiff and weak after days of motionlessness the way her physical form would have been. Back on Earth, her muscles must already have begun to atrophy as her body lay still without her soul to animate it. She’d never been absent from it so long before. The guardians would have installed a feeding tube to sustain her. Only as long as her body continued to function would her soul continue to live.
She’d worried, when Sarthex had captured her instead of killing her as she’d expected, that Solomon would let himself be persuaded to end her suffering by severing the tether that bound her physical and astral forms. He had access to the point where it emerged from the center of her physical chest. A broken tether was painless; she’d experienced it often enough during training to be sure of that. If it wasn’t reconnected within three or four minutes, her astral form would gradually fade away. Her breathing and heartbeat would stop, and when her brain starved of oxygen, her body would die. Many people would consider that a merciful fate compared to long-term imprisonment and torture.
But she should have trusted her husband to understand that she wanted to live, even under these conditions. Suicide could be a noble action in certain circumstances, but it was shameful if undertaken only to escape personal pain. She’d skimmed perilously close to that shame when she’d taken Solomon’s place in the duel with Sarthex. She’d considered her actions justified because the Covenant needed Solomon’s leadership more than it needed her contributions. But she’d known that reasoning was only an excuse. In truth, she’d been unable to endure the agony of watching Solomon die and had chosen the coward’s way instead.
Now she must endure the life he’d allowed her to keep. What sustained her most was gratitude that she was here and not in Solomon’s place. He was strong enough to continue to defy the Seraphim, even when Sarthex retaliated for every attack by torturing her. She didn’t have that kind of ruthlessness. She would have crumbled before Sarthex’s blackmail, and the Seraphim would have triumphed. While as matters stood, with every horrific vision Sarthex forced into her mind she rejoiced more deeply that eventually Solomon would repay the alien in full for what he’d done.
Keiko steeled herself to endure hours of boredom. Confined to this tiny, featureless cell, she had nothing to occupy her time except what her own mind could devise. She turned her attention determinedly to the task she’d set herself—composing and committing to memory a traditional Japanese epic poem describing humanity’s first encounter with the Seraphim. When she finished, she’d translate it into English. If she was still a prisoner when she finished that, she’d translate it into Russian. She quailed to think that she might remain captive long enough to complete all three versions. But she would continue to endure somehow. By that time surely they’d have reached Earth and new historic events would demand to be immortalized in verse.
She recited everything she’d composed so far, polishing a word here and a phrase there, then concentrated on the stanza she was currently working on. She was having a difficult time finding words intense enough to invoke the terror she’d felt when she’d hurled a deadly ball of e
nergy at a figure who looked exactly like Solomon, but who she was certain was a Seraphim in disguise. Nearly certain. A tiny trace of doubt had remained, turning her heart to water and her bowels to ice.
She’d been right, of course. The relief she’d felt was just as difficult to describe. The challenge absorbed all her attention.
Something moved. She jerked back to full awareness of her surroundings to find a huge Seraphim head poking through the wall of her prison. Fear gripped her. Solomon must have made another attack. Sarthex had come to torture her again.
But this Seraph, though enormous, was not quite as big as Sarthex, and his skin was golden, not black. She swallowed hard—the containment field allowed her face some limited movement—and eyed the alien. “Who are you? What do you want?”
He twisted his body to fit more of it into the little cell without impinging on her containment field. He got his middle fins inside and waved them in the way Keiko had learned indicated respect toward an equal. “My name is Dovex. Commander Sarthex has given me permission to study you, in hopes that I may find a way to counteract the curious bonds members of your species seem able to form with one another. Hannex, who specializes in the design of containment fields, has so far failed to find a way to block the effect. My area of expertise is the manipulation of mental pathways. Commander Sarthex hopes I will be able to find a solution using that approach.”
Fear and hope warred within Keiko. If the alien was somehow able to break her bond with Solomon, she and her husband would both die. Yet if he discovered a way to block it while leaving it intact, Solomon need no longer feel the echo of her pain when Sarthex tortured her. Warily she said, “Do you think you can?”
“I don’t know. If Commander Sarthex’s description is accurate, these bonds are completely outside my experience. Yet evidence suggests that your minds and ours are very similar. Our abilities in other respects are nearly identical. With sufficient observation, I feel confident I can reach an understanding of this one. Perhaps even enough to duplicate it.”
The idea of Seraphim being able to bond and combine their strength was terrifying. How unimaginably powerful would Sarthex become if he was able to join souls with another ex-caste Seraph like this one? Already he was stronger than she and Solomon combined in many ways, although his range was shorter. Soul bonds were the one factor that gave humanity an advantage over the aliens.
She mustered as much bravado as she could. “I doubt that. Everything we know suggests it’s a uniquely human ability. Seraphim don’t have the psychological prerequisites needed.”
Dovex tilted his head in a very human-like expression of interest. She wondered if it was natural to his species or if he was deliberately using it for her benefit. Adrian had said the Seraphim had been monitoring radio and television signals since they came close enough to Earth to pick them up. They’d accumulated a vast store of information about humanity. Far more than the Covenant had been able to piece together about the Seraphim from the handful of Memories passed down through the ages. “Psychological prerequisites? I’m not sure I understand what you mean.”
Should she risk telling him more? Any information she gave him could lead him closer to neutralizing their one significant advantage. Yet it wasn’t anything he didn’t already know. If she convinced him his task was impossible, maybe he would give up. “Are you familiar with the human reproductive cycle?”
“Yes, your broadcasts have given us a thorough understanding of both the biological and emotional aspects. You employ a strategy similar to some animals on our home world.” His fins twitched. Keiko wondered if he was remembering that those animals, along with his home world, no longer existed. “Each individual produces only one type of gamete. Two individuals must come together so one can insert a mobile gamete into the other’s body, where it joins with the stationary gamete.”
“That’s right. Very different from your biology.” According to what Adrian had learned, the Seraphim were hermaphroditic. They all participated in massive annual ceremonies during which they released sperm and eggs into the water for external fertilization, much like some species of fish did on Earth.
“I know you attach significant emotional significance to the act. Although your broadcasts are frustratingly inconsistent about what exactly that significance is, and how strong or enduring it might be.”
Keiko laughed dryly. “That’s because opinions vary widely on those subjects. Personal experiences are quite diverse. But it’s inarguable that humans have evolved the ability to form strong bonds between individuals. Not just their mates.” She thought wistfully of her parents and brothers, her aunts and uncles and cousins, and the children she and Solomon had chosen not to have. “Bonds between parent and child and between siblings can be just as strong. Seraphim know nothing of any of these.” Their young lived wild in the ocean for their first several years, the vast majority dying. Only a handful of the strongest survived to be accepted into the community as adults.
Dovex seemed fascinated by the conversation. “True. Those sorts of relationships are foreign to us. But we do form very strong communal bonds. In many ways our communities function as single individuals. Similar to the insects you call bees. I watched the most fascinating documentary about the species. Like bees, our lives are devoted to the good of the community, the hive, as a whole.”
“Maybe Seraphim could form one giant bond uniting all of you.” That was a truly horrific idea. “Maybe you already do, in a way. But I think it very unlikely that two individual Seraphim will ever be able to bond the way two humans can. We can only do it with someone for whom we feel both a profound emotional attachment and a strong sexual attraction.”
“That’s fascinating.” The frills on Dovex’s neck quivered. “Tell me more. You don’t bond in this fashion with your progenitors or your young, or with other offspring of the same progenitors?”
Keiko silently berated herself. She’d inadvertently let slip a fact new to the Seraphim. It was hard not to, when Dovex was clearly interested in the information for its own sake, not just for how he could use it against them. “I think it would be unwise to tell you anything further. The better you understand us, the more chance you’ll be able to accomplish the task Sarthex gave you. I don’t want that to happen.”
Dovex considered this for a moment. “If I tell Commander Sarthex you’re refusing to cooperate, he’ll inflict pain on you until you change your mind.”
Keiko quailed at the thought of even more nightmarish visions of herself and those she loved suffering, but she raised her chin. “I won’t change my mind.”
“No, I expect you won’t. I understand that you’ve endured the torture he’s inflicted so far with fortitude.” Dovex studied her for a long moment. His middle fins rippled. “I might arrange for your conditions to be made more pleasant. The containment field could be modified to allow more movement. You could be free to move around this room, or a larger one. You could be given access to entertainment in written, aural, or visual formats. Both yours and ours.”
Keiko’s heart raced. She desperately wanted what he offered. But there were things she wanted even more. “Current news broadcasts from Earth?”
Dovex narrowed his eyes until they were thin slits. “Perhaps. If the information you gave me was valuable enough.”
It nearly killed her, but she shook her head. “No. News from Earth would satisfy my curiosity, but it wouldn’t help my people. If I’m going to tell you things that could potentially hurt us, I insist on an even trade. I want details about the Seraphim. Your ship, your trajectory, your command structure. Your technology. Exactly what you plan to do when you reach Earth.”
Dovex’s voice was shocked. “I can’t tell you those things.”
She tried to shrug, but the containment field stopped her. She had to settle for raised eyebrows and twisted lips to express her feigned indifference. “Then I can’t tell you anything, either.”
This time Dovex remained silent for much longer. He swam aroun
d her, his astral form passing through the walls of her prison, only his head remaining within the space so he could keep his eyes fixed on her. She couldn’t turn her head more than an inch or two, but she tracked him as well as she could with her eyes.
Finally he returned to hover directly in front of her. “You have no way to transmit such information to the other humans.”
“Not right now. Maybe I’ll find a way. Or maybe my friends will rescue me.”
“You would surrender your information in exchange for a gamble?”
“You’d be gambling, too. What I tell you could prove useless. What you seek to do might be impossible, even if I tell you everything I know about soul bonds.”
Adrian had said the Seraphim were thoroughly familiar with the concept of gambling, that it was an important part of their culture. Dovex certainly seemed to understand what she meant. He nodded slowly, another human-mimicking gesture. “Neither of us can accurately estimate the odds of gaining more than we lose.”
“No.” She again assumed an attitude of indifference. The containment helped. If she could move, he’d surely perceive that every muscle in her body was tensed.
After a very long time, he said, “All right. Answer my question. Do humans ever form bonds with individuals who are not sexual partners? In return I will tell you the name of Commander Sarthex’s immediate inferior.”
“Not so fast. You want me to speak; I want to remain silent. You have to go first.”
He considered that. “Very well. The second-ranked Ex-caste is called Borex.”
Keiko fixed the name in her memory by envisioning a box of laundry powder with the image of a wagon pulled by mules. “Borex. Good.” She took a deep breath. “No. As far as the Covenant has been able to determine, it’s impossible to form a soul bond with someone other than a sexual partner or potential sexual partner. Parents don’t form that sort of psychic bond with their children, and people don’t form them with siblings or friends. There’s something unique about the sexual relationship.”
