The Rift Coda

by Amy S. Foster

  I stop thinking about Ezra.

  We continue to kiss, our tongues snaking in and out of each other’s mouths. He picks me up in one fell swoop with a single hand and in the crook of his elbow carries me to the bed. For a moment, everything is perfect as he props me on top of the thick duvet. My hands are wrapped around his neck and his fingers are holding on to the sides of my face. And then.

  And then . . .

  Those green eyes change. They narrow and glare. Levi’s accelerated pulse begins to get even faster. The Blood Lust. It’s kicked in. I go perfectly still. I bow my head. I try. I try so hard to disappear in that moment, but there’s no point. He’s been triggered and I really thought that maybe we were past this. In truth, I’m more disappointed than I am scared. Still. If he kills me, I’m not sure how that would go down with the Faida. He could even be tried for murder. Citadels in Battle Ground are protected from stuff like that, but here? I have no idea. Levi yanks me up. He snarls in my face as he digs his fingers into my shoulders. He has me at least a foot off the ground. Of course, I could get away. Inside of two seconds I could have him out cold. I’m in my uniform and he’s not. He wouldn’t stand a chance against me.

  If I hurt him, I’ll ruin everything. That’s the thing. That’s the thing that keeps pulling me back to Ezra. He knew his life was on the line when he deprogrammed me and he did it anyway. I almost killed him. Twice. He believed in me. He somehow knew that I was stronger than my abuse and more powerful than my abusers. That’s what makes this whole situation a total fucking shit show.

  And now, here I am. Levi’s hot, sticky breath growling up against my face. I cannot fight back. My strength is my vulnerability, and I have to hope that it’s where Levi’s lives, too. He keeps me in midair for a full twenty seconds. He’s fighting this, I can see it. It’s the inherent problem with the Blood Lust. You can’t fight it. You have to balance on the knife edge of it. You have to surrender your body and your instincts and let that spark of innocence wriggle its way to the surface.

  I want to tell him this, but talking will only make it worse at this point. Levi lifts me higher and throws me like a dart, with all his (very significant) might at the door. I manage to contort myself somewhat in the air, spinning so that my head won’t hit the wooden frame. This maneuver works, sort of. I knew that my suit would absorb most of the impact, but I am not wearing my boots. So, while I’ve managed to angle my body sideways, to protect my skull, I have totally forgotten about my foot. When it hits the door, it hurts like hell. It makes me want to scream, but I suck the sound back into my throat because that would only excite him more.

  Since I’m right here and since killing me might ruin our chance to save the world and all, I think my best option is to make a run for it. Figuratively at least. Before he can get to me, I leap up on my good foot and fling the door open. I close it behind me and hold it shut. The door is thick and solid and the handle is iron so I’m hoping I can keep Levi in there long enough for it to pass.

  As soon as he realizes I’ve trapped him in there, he begins to scream.

  “I’m gonna kill you!” Levi shouts. “You hear me, Ryn? I’m going to rip your lungs out while you watch. Open the fucking door!” Levi begins to pound and it’s enough to alert our neighbors all along the hall and they come rushing out. Ezra is first. He’s wearing nothing but his boxers and the look of sleepy-eyed confusion that he may just be dreaming. Levi keeps banging on the wooden planks.

  “Are you afraid to fight me, Ryn? Because you should be. I’m going to wrap my hands around that pathetic neck of yours and squeeze until you turn fucking blue, you bitch, let me out of here!” There are now at least ten other Faida in the hallway. They look baffled. I don’t know what to say exactly. This is the very definition of uncharted territory. The Blood Lust plays itself out. In person. Well, that’s not exactly true. The first time Ezra triggered me, I told him to run to the bathroom before it well and truly had me in its grip. I bashed my head against the floor until the pain dragged me out of it. Still, that had been just a hand on my clavicle. I think the more sexual things get, the more fierce the Blood Lust becomes.

  So all this yelling and these verbal threats are unexpected. It’s the kind of thing you just think. Hearing Levi say this shit out loud is both embarrassing and unsettling. My heart sinks as I see Arif and Navaa approach slowly. “This isn’t him,” I tell them, still holding the ever-increasingly jerking door. “This is the thing they did to us,” I try to explain. The two look at each other and then me with barely veiled judgment. And then, Arif adds his own hand to the long black iron handle. Levi is just screaming now, his voice getting more and more hoarse as he continues to try and get out. Then, there is a great crunching squeal, the sound you hear when a tree splinters after being cut down. Levi has ripped the door off the hinges and it goes flying back into my room, crashing against the post of the bed.

  Without even hesitating for one moment, Arif grabs me and pulls me down, wrapping his wings around my entire body for refuge. All the other Faida join him, creating a giant teepee of protection.

  “Don’t hurt him!” I yell, though the feathers muffle and dampen my scream. “If he gets hurt, he’ll never get better. Just defend yourselves.” I realize in that moment, I am asking quite a lot of my new potential allies. Levi is stronger than any of them, but he’s not stronger than all of them. Also, thankfully, the protective grid that makes their wings bulletproof seems to be a permanent modification. As Levi begins punching and kicking, I hear the distinctive buzz of an electronic force field at work.

  After about a minute, the sound stops. It’s pitch-black inside. I can’t see what’s going on, but I do feel the slight shift of air as the whirling mass of wings slowly unknits itself around me. Eventually, my vision returns. I am on my knees, curled into a ball, my hands covering my head. I look up and see the Faida have all backed away and Levi, poor Levi, is just standing there. The Blood Lust has run its course. It has hollowed him out and he looks more broken than I’ve ever seen him.

  I know he must be humiliated. I stand up and realize, my foot. I wince and pull it up behind me. “I’m okay. Everything is fine,” I tell him softly. I have my arms out in front of me, hoping he’ll come to me, hoping he’ll show them all that he isn’t some crazy monster. He doesn’t quite seem to see me, though. He is looking through me. “No one got hurt and everyone understands,” I assure him. “Let’s just go back to your room. We’ll get you settled, you can get some sleep. You need to sleep.”

  My pleas seem to snap him back to reality. He swallows hard. I watch as he begins to back away. “I’m sorry. Everyone. I’m . . .” Levi’s voice is barely a whisper. He hasn’t been physically injured, but emotionally, I don’t know how this will affect things.

  As if reading my mind, Navaa walks gracefully toward him. “In truth, Levi,” she says with a sweet and gentle tone that I didn’t even think she was capable of, “we are all aware of what the altered Roones did to you. It is unsettling to witness, but also necessary, I think, to better understand the depravity of our common enemy. We do not judge you.”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s cool. Let’s just go back to your room,” I say. I attempt to walk, but it hurts to put too much weight on my foot. I disguise my pain with a smile. I sort of shuffle toward him, dragging my painful foot behind me.

  “No!” Levi says with sudden authority. “I don’t want to be around you. Or anyone. I’m very sorry.” And with that, Levi turns and rushes into his own room. An awkward silence weaves its way around all of us as soon as his door closes. Ezra walks swiftly over to me. I’m thinking he might be concerned. I’m thinking he may be worried that I am actually hurt. As soon as I see the furious look on his face, I know that is not the case.

  He gets right up to me and whispers sternly in my ear, “I can’t fucking believe you did that. Here. With them. In this place.” He grips my wrist and pulls me even closer. “Your Blood Lust was nothing compared to what I just saw. Levi is going to kill
you. I hope to God you know what you’re doing.” He jerks his hand back as if suddenly my skin is toxic and stomps away, practically slamming the door behind him. Well, I suppose I know where things stand between us now. He’ll never be able to forget what he just saw and I know without a shadow of a doubt that he will never, ever, look at me the same way again. And as much as his masculine sense of entitlement disgusts me, it doesn’t change the fact that his rejection rips at my guts nevertheless.

  I don’t know what to do. Everyone is looking at me. I go to open my mouth, but Arif speaks before I get the chance. “You don’t need to explain. It seems you are injured. Can I offer medical assistance?”

  As if this whole situation wasn’t embarrassing enough, I’m not about to add to it by waking up one of their doctors. “No. I’m sure it’s just a bruise, but thank you. Thank you all for your help with this. I’m going to go back to my room.”

  I hobble away before any of them can say anything else. When I get to my room (now annoyingly without a door), I peel my uniform off and tend to my foot. I don’t think it’s broken, but I take all the medicine the SenMachs and altered Roones have provided in my med kit just to be sure. I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep at all because of what happened, but my body overrides my absolute mortification. I need to heal more than I need to brood and worry. My last thought is of Levi. The look on his face, the shame and desperation. Hatred for the altered Roones quickens my pulse. I keep my fists clenched as I drift away.

  Chapter 7

  Several hours later we are sitting at a large oval wooden table. Unlike many of the rustic pieces of furniture on the base, this one is polished with a slick lacquer that is so shiny I can see my face in its surface. I try to keep things as professional as possible given what happened the night before. The best way to do this is not to look too closely at Levi and Ezra. Denial will always work in a pinch.

  I am sitting at one head of the table, the unofficial boss of the human race. I’m actually pleased to see Navaa at the other end. Maybe with two women in charge, communication will be front and center of these briefings. Navaa had very cleverly separated Ezra and Levi and seated them among the other Faida. If we are all to be on the same side, the three of us can’t be seen set apart from the rest.

  This is a dark, lush room with a bluish light cascading down from the unusually low ceiling. The chairs are black leather with a slim column of padding for the back. It’s a highly functional piece of furniture for people with wings, but as for the rest of us . . . not so much. Still, the entire vibe of this space has a subdued elegance about it. This is a room meant for comfortable sequestration and I find this a bit surprising. Citadels aren’t supposed to ever get too comfortable. Then again, on our Earth, Citadels are only soldiers. But Arif had told us that on this Earth they are other things as well—doctors, engineers, diplomats. Considering that 60 percent of the Faida Citadels were annihilated, I’m not sure theirs is the better way to go.

  A large, flat glass panel emerges from the center of the table. I notice again how they like to keep their technology hidden away, beneath panels, under floors. Perhaps the Faida, with their giant, glorious wings don’t like the reminder of what technology has done to them, or maybe they feel that it is somehow crass. Their posturing is disingenuous. There is only science here, all of it hard and none of it forgiving.

  Navaa opens the meeting. She has an illuminated screen at her fingertips that she is using to control the images we are looking at on the panel in front of us. She brings up all seven of the Citadel races.

  “Let’s begin with what we can safely assume are absolute facts,” she says with her usual air of authority with a dash of arrogance. “Ezra was able to bring us up to speed about his time on the original Roone Earth. Most of what he told us we already knew, but it was nice to hear that the original Roones want to stop their counterparts as badly as we do. Basically, what we are looking at is a game of numbers.”

  “You mean, which of the Citadel races we can get to side with our cause,” Levi says. If he had any residual issues about the incident in my room, he left them outside this one. I can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. He’s not about to let what happened distract any of us from what’s truly important and by speaking up now, he’s proving the point.

  “Exactly. So, the Spiradaels.” Images of the Spiradaels begin to pepper the glass in front of us. “Our team spent a considerable amount of time observing them and we have ruled that they are as brainwashed as the Settiku Hesh. It’s our conclusion they cannot be turned. Humans, do you concur?”

  I don’t need to confer with my fellow humans to make a decision about this. Ezra, for all his knowledge of the Citadel races, never fought one or spoke to one. He never learned their language. Only Levi and I looked any of them in the eye and we had both agreed on this last night.

  “We agree.”

  “Good. Then let’s talk about the Orsalines,” Navaa says as she brings several photos and video footage up on the screen in front of us. I glance over at Ezra. I see that the interface below him has been activated as well. As Navaa speaks, lines form in an iridescent white on the table, just in Ezra’s eyeline. Somewhere in this room there is a mic and a translator hard at work. Not an actual person, but a program and I’m glad of it, because it means I don’t have to do it myself. I have to pay attention to what’s going on here and that requires all my focus.

  Plus the idea of talking to Ezra right now makes my stomach roil.

  “What you are looking at is over fifty-seven shrines that both our flyovers and the Roone drones have photographed. These are temples dedicated to the altered Roones. We knew they had cast themselves as deities, but we didn’t realize it was to the entire planet. Every Orsaline believes the altered Roones are their gods, not just the Citadels.”

  I take a closer look at the “shrines,” squinting as I inspect them on the screen. They are massive multicolored spheres, clearly representing the bald heads of the altered Roones. Some are just three or four rocks in neat pile, while others are actual structures (of a sort) with doorways. The images show Orsalines making their way in and out of them with offerings of . . . rocks . . .

  Typical.

  “We made two recon trips before the sound blockade went up,” Sidra, head of the Faida’s intelligence unit, offers. She speaks with a lulling cadence. This must be muscle memory for her vocal cords. No doubt she’s been trained to keep people at ease, to get them to open up and offer their secrets. Torture really isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Sometimes, all a person needs is to feel like they have someone who’s on their side, someone who understands. Sidra, with her pearly white wings and long curly ashy-blond locks is clearly that kind of operative. “The Orsalines were living in huts when the altered Roones arrived. They were given an origin story, a bible of sorts—they aren’t big readers. The Orsalines may or may not have been drugged, but they have most certainly been brainwashed. To go against an altered Roone would be akin to blasphemy.”

  “Levi and I were worried about this; they’re zealots,” I chime in. “Extremists and extremely stupid. I still find it hard to believe that given the altered Roones’ MO that they would even waste their time genetically enhancing such an infantile race.”

  “Sometimes it’s good to have foot soldiers,” Donav, the munitions officer says. “Put the dumb ones in front. Let them get the worst of it. But also see what kind of damage they can do—and these guys can do some serious damage. It’s a good way to make sure that your best soldiers survive.” Donav’s voice is a syrupy baritone. I could listen to him all day, mostly because he would be talking about guns and explosives. And also—cheekbones.

  Seriously, with his red hair, he’s like an insanely hot Archie Andrews with Batman’s toys.

  I force myself to respond to what he’s saying, and not what my mind is imagining.

  “Right,” I say. “So my feeling is that if an entire race of people have proof—well, what they think is proof—of the divine, I d
on’t think that’s something we could shut down. Even if we got one and explained what was going on, I doubt they’d understand it.”

  “That’s our assessment as well,” Navaa said, nodding. “An Orsaline alliance is not an option. So that makes two Citadel races solidly for the altered Roones.” There’s a clear thread of frustration running through her voice.

  “So what about the Daithi? Did you ever send a recon team there?” I ask hopefully.

  “We did, but the sound blockade went up before they could return home,” Sidra answers in that calm, almost seductive voice of hers. I keep the sigh I want to let go of locked inside my rib cage. That’s two teams they had out and they basically cut them off before even attempting a rescue. Not cool, angel people, not cool.

  “However,” Navaa jumps in, “we do believe the Daithi are our best chance at an alliance. As you know from the research, which we’ve gained even more of since you shared Edo’s computer with us, the Daithi are not a technologically advanced race, but they are a conquered people.”

  That’s not as impressive to me as it sounds like it is to Navaa—it only proves to me that the Daithi are easily subjugated.

  “They put up a fight, Ryn,” Navaa says as if reading my mind. I sit up a little straighter in my chair. There are few images of the Daithi on the panel in front of me. What images do exist are tiny blurs, like a dark fingerprint getting in the way of a shot. They are fast, I’ll give them that.

  “The altered Roones assumed they could be easily conquered, but it took months rather than days. They made strategic strikes and had the Settiku Hesh and altered Roones scrambling . . . all before they were ever given any Citadel enhancements,” Sidra adds.