by L. S. O'Dea
“I said I didn’t think you would revert back to how you were before, but I’m not positive.” Conguise’s eyes met his. “I do know it’s dangerous to change too fast. The results...In the past, they’ve been catastrophic.”
He paled. “Couldn’t we try it and if you noticed my blood going in the wrong direction—”
“I also know that once the change goes too far, in either direction, it’s unstoppable. Irreversible.”
He held out his arm. He’d never risk going back to being in a wheelchair, unable to walk, to run, and to mate. He’d take the momentary weakness. His time with Trinity wouldn’t be worth spit if he couldn’t function as a man, because although he hadn’t quite decided on her punishment, he had decided he’d have her as a male has a female. He’d get her out of his system, no matter how long it took.
The professor withdrew a vial of blood and then injected Jethro with the serum. “I’ll be back tomorrow for another sample.” He hesitated at the door. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t greet me in the same manner. Less exuberance would be preferred.”
“Got it.” He wasn’t ready for the professor’s humor over this situation.
As soon as Conguise left Indy entered the room. “Don’t sleep. Tee’s getting you some food. You need to eat.”
He stretched out on his stomach. It was a struggle to stay awake. “Tired. Eat when I wake.” He closed his eyes and let sleep drag him away.
CHAPTER 7: CONGUISE
CONGUISE PREPARED A tray of food for Blue. He needed to take care of her soon. He had recipes to test, taste and make perfect, but not tonight. Tonight, he hurt and he wanted company. Tomorrow. He’d slaughter her tomorrow.
His emotions were in turmoil. He was furious with Jethro for letting Trinity escape but the rate at which the boy had healed was amazing. No other creature healed that quickly. If he could isolate those genes, he’d be richer than he’d ever dreamed and with wealth came power. Perhaps he didn’t need a squad of Jethroes. He could buy his soldiers. Once he was in power, things would change. There’d be no more looking the other way on interclass mating. The current government was corrupt and needed to be destroyed—tossed out like dirty, dish water so the sink could be refilled with fresh.
He carried the tray of food downstairs.
“Oh my goodness! What happened to you?” Blue hurried to the front of the cage.
“A misunderstanding.” Her concern touched him. Afar had shown no emotion as the Servant had cleaned his wounds. He nodded at the table and chair. “Please take your seat so I can bring you your dinner.”
She sat, affixing her shackles and tipping back her head. He entered the cage, placing the tray on the table. He held the knife, staring at her throat. He needed to do this. He wasn’t weak like the others, but he was tired. Tomorrow was soon enough. He cut her food and took his seat outside the cage. She began to eat and he began to read to her. Their habit. Their ritual.
After a few hours he closed the book. He stood and started to pick up the tray of empty dishes which he’d gathered earlier and brought outside her enclosure so she could listen to the story while unrestrained.
“Sir?”
“Yes?” He looked up at her.
“I...may I...” She flushed a bit, her eyes on the floor. “I have some salve that my mother sent with me in case I was injured. If you’d like, I can put it on your cuts.”
“That’s very kind but...” No ointment made by Producers could compare with the medicine he’d already applied, but it was nice of her. She had so little and yet she offered freely.
“Of course. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’m sure you have better medicine than my mom’s homemade poultice.”
“Nonsense.” The word slipped from his mouth and now he couldn’t stop. “It’s only that I don’t want to take the little you have.”
“It’s no trouble, sir.” She looked up at him, eyes bright. “You’ve given me so much and haven’t let me pay you back even in the littlest way. I’d be honored to share this with you.” She went over to her pallet on the floor and dug through the few belongings she had. She returned to the front of the cage, carrying a small container. She opened it and the odor of fresh mint filled the air.
“It smells nice,” he said.
“May I?”
He moved closer to the cage. She dipped her fingers in the ointment and dabbed it carefully on the cuts on his face. It was cool and her fingers were warm and soft.
“It does take the sting away.” He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to please her.
“You can have the rest.” She put the container in his hand and closed his fingers around it. “You move like you have other injuries.”
She was right. His entire body was bruised from the beating Jethro had given him. He wanted to take off his shirt and let her rub the ointment into his skin. It’d been a long time since he’d been touched by a tender, caring hand. His gaze rested on her brown hair. She was young, but she was from a different class. They matured faster than Almightys. Still, it wouldn’t be right. “Thank you. Goodnight.”
She moved to her bed and stared at him, as if wondering why he was still standing outside of her cage.
“Are you happy here?” He wasn’t sure why he asked or why it mattered, but it did.
“Yes,” she said softly, her eyes darting down to her hands which were folded in her lap. She was lying.
“Please, tell me the truth.” He wanted to be able to trust one creature. Just one.
“You’ll think I’m ungrateful for everything you’ve done, but I’m not. Truly.” She glanced up at him.
“I won’t. I promise.” It was important that her stay be pleasant. That was the only reason he wanted to know.
“It’s just that the days are so long. I’m used to working but here I...well, I have nothing to do. I only have your visits to brighten my day.”
“Of course, I should’ve realized.” Producers worked hard from the day they learned to walk. Sitting alone in a cage with nothing to do must be horrible. “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you, sir.” She smiled at him.
He took the tray and book and went upstairs. He had a small garden in his courtyard. There was no reason she couldn’t work out there. He’d hook up a chain so she couldn’t escape. It’d be nice to have more fresh produce and that was a Producer’s purpose...well, one of their purposes. He placed the dishes in the sink and hesitated. He needed meat. He should take care of her soon and if he did that, there’d be no reason to go to the trouble of setting up the chain and pulley. Of course, then he’d have to continue to do all the gardening himself and he really was quite tired. No, he’d move her to the small room off the courtyard. He’d hook up a chain for her ankle and she could garden all she liked. He could purchase another Producer. His hand trembled. That wouldn’t work. He didn’t have time to get it used to him and he wouldn’t go through another experience like the first time. He could, however, go to the warehouse district, witness the slaughter and then purchase the meat. As long as he saw them kill and package it, he didn’t need to do it himself. It’d cost him more per pound but this one time it’d be worth it. Later, he’d bring another one home for slaughter.
CHAPTER 8: HUGH
HUGH WAS DONE with his testing. Well, he was as done as he was going to be. Normally, he’d go through everything another time or two but these weren’t normal circumstances and it wasn’t like he was being sloppy or careless. He’d run the DNA reports, analyzed the differences in the genetics of the classes and then did it all again. The results were as expected. They were all related - cousins in a way. They were all descended from the same species. Jason and the Council were going to love it when this information hit the papers. All he had left to do was test his new batch of serum to verify that it was identical to the original. His last attempt had been similar but not identical and that wasn’t good enough when it was the only thing keeping the Trackers from killing everything in their paths.
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br /> He put samples of the two serums into the machine and started the analysis. He didn’t fully understand how the serum worked. The Tracker and Handler blood was different than all the other classes. Their base DNA and some other strands were very close but other parts were completely foreign. By testing their blood before and after administering the serum he’d discovered that the serum altered the baseline DNA of both species. It strengthened recessive genes thus weakening dominant traits. He’d never seen anything like it and he’d love to understand exactly how it worked and why but figuring it out would take more time than he had.
He needed to get back to the war effort. He had no idea if they were still winning. The only comfort he had was that Bruno would pull him from this place if everything were going down the crapper. Plus, if he were honest, he wanted to get back to the forest, back to Trinity. He missed her and wanted to talk to her about what he’d uncovered about his biological mother. She had a way of helping him put things into perspective and he was having a hard time understanding how Martha could’ve lived this close to him all these years and not said a thing. Trinity would tell him to ask her and that’s exactly what he should do. What he would do. Jethro should be in the field with the Protective Services, so it’d be safe for him to stop by and talk to Martha on his way back to camp. He could find out what had happened and then move on, either with her in his life or without. He hoped she’d like to start a relationship with him, not mother-son but friends. Why she’d given him up didn’t matter. He’d had Sarah and she’d loved him enough for ten mothers.
He moved to the computer and turned it on. It was time to run through his exit strategy. Tomorrow, he’d meet Bruno and give him the new coordinates and three days later, if he had the serum completed, he’d escape. His body hummed with excitement. Soon, he’d see Trinity. He’d honor his deal with Meesus and return before the auction but he wasn’t going to stay here as her prisoner. Had she told him that was a condition of their bargain, he would’ve refused. As soon as he was back at camp, he’d have Tim take her a note. He grinned as he pulled up the mapping software. Tim wasn’t going to appreciate that job.
He’d already located the cameras and knew how to hack into the system so he’d be able to divert them when he left. There was an older gate by the building that looked like it belonged in the Warehouse district. The area was perfect—overgrown and isolated. He’d do a dry run tonight. He ran the code to move the cameras and turned on the timer virus he’d inserted into the system. It’d open that one, old gate for a few moments, long enough for him to slip through. He had thirty minutes before he needed to be at the gate, a trip that should take ten minutes at most. He’d leave as soon as he verified there were no Guards or Servants anywhere near his path to freedom. He couldn’t risk one of them hearing the click when the gate unlocked and then locked again.
He pulled up the map of the estate and turned on his search for all tracking devices in the area. The house was full, but no one lingered outside. He zoomed to the camera by his exit point and it was at the correct angle—pointed away from the gate. He followed his course backward, checking each camera and his heart stilled as he zoomed in on the lab. Someone with a tracking device was here, in this building. He glanced around. Maybe he should tell Parson and go back to the room. He couldn’t risk running into a Guard or Servant, but he didn’t want to leave without his analysis on the serum. He may have time to wait. He zoomed in closer to determine exactly where the Guard or Servant was.
The dot on the map wasn’t moving. They could be waiting for him, but it was only one device. Jason would send an army to capture him, not one lone Guard. His hand trembled as he zoomed in a little more. He clicked on the dot. There was a number but no name or identification. He turned on the building’s floor plans and his heart stilled and then slammed hard and fast in his chest. It couldn’t be. He took a deep breath. He had to remain calm. He turned the computer monitor so he could see it but Parson couldn’t. He moved across the room. The dot on the screen shifted with him.
The blood pounded in his ears as panic surged through him, telling him to flee, but that wouldn’t do any good. They could find him—anywhere. He had to remove the device. He was a danger to anyone he was around. His breath hitched. If it were a new device, everyone he knew was still in danger. Every place he’d gone would be documented. He had to clear the records. He moved back to the computer and clicked the device. The breath left his chest in a whoosh of relief. It was an old device. Only he was in danger. He glanced at Parson who was busy with his project—well, him and Parson.
He turned back to the computer and stared at that one little dot that could do so much damage. He took a deep, shaky breath. This wasn’t logical. If Jason or the Council knew about this device they would’ve arrested him a long time ago. He took another deep breath, his heart slowing now that capture and execution weren’t looming nearby. He had to think this through. Jackson had scanned him in prison and he’d been clean. The device had to be entered through the skin.
“Bob,” said Parson.
He jumped and Parson snickered.
“Sorry. Too many nights in the forest.” He forced himself to laugh. If Parson found out about the tracking device, the other Almighty would kick him out.
Parson watched him a moment longer and then went back to his work. “Doug told me the beakers weren’t clean enough. He’s a picky sort, but decent. He told me so he wouldn’t have to report it, but you’d better sterilize them good.”
“Okay. Yeah. I’ll get right on that.” He wouldn’t be testing his escape route tonight. He re-adjusted the cameras, deactivated the bug that opened the gate and cleared all traces of his hack into the system before shutting down the computer.
He emptied the garbage and finished cleaning the lab, paying particular attention to the beakers. By the time he was done, so were his tests on the serum. He stuffed them into his garbage bag and headed for the room. Now, before he could even consider leaving, he had to remove the tracking device and that wouldn’t be easy. Writing software and hacking into systems was simple, finding the hardware to build a tracking pinpointer wasn’t. The lab was filled with equipment but he had no idea which machines were used infrequently enough that he could pirate parts.
On top of that, he had to figure out who had implanted it in him. He had many enemies but he couldn’t think of one who’d had access. In order to insert the device, he would’ve had to have been cut. He’d struggled with Bruno at the Howling Hut, but although he’d had plenty of bruises there’d been no tear in his skin. Others at the club had been close, but again, no cut. The only one who’d cut him had been Trinity but she wouldn’t do something like that. He froze—his hand on the doorknob. Meesus. She’d cut him a lot. He’d had scratches, some of them deep, in his back, chest and legs. She’d implanted the device in him. He opened the door and dropped onto his mat. It explained how she’d had no problem locating him even after they’d moved camp. It also explained how The Victor was always waiting when he met with Bruno. The Servant carried a satchel and before Hugh’s arrest a company had been working on a handheld unit to help track runaways. He leaned back, hitting his head against the wall, once, twice. That night with Meesus was going to haunt him forever.
CHAPTER 9: HUGH
HUGH SAT ON his mat in the room pretending to study his reports while he waited for Parson to finish his shift. He was going to have to help the other Almighty with his project. It was the only way to get the equipment he needed for the pinpointer.
Parson came into the room and sat at the table, pulling a bag of chips from his stash of snacks and drinks. Hugh glanced at him as the other Almighty crunched away on his treat. Parson never offered him any. He was given a sack of food every week—bread, fruit, vegetables and dried meat. It was plain, tasteless food and there wasn’t much of it, especially since he refused to eat the meat. His eyes drifted back to the chips and he reminded himself that he wasn’t there for the food.
“Did you still wan
t some help with your project?” He tossed his papers aside.
“I thought you were too busy.”
The other Almighty was suspicious and he should be, but Hugh had dealt with craftier men than Parson. “I am but I’m also stuck. I can’t figure out...something and working on something else might help clear my head.” The most believable lies had a basis of truth. Working on other projects had helped him figure out troublesome issues in the past and he was confused about the serum.
“Hmm. I do that too.” Parson nodded. “Yeah, I’d appreciate your help.” He pulled out a large file stuffed full of papers.
Hugh moved to the table, pulled up a crate and sat. Parson’s eyes narrowed but he didn’t say a word. Hugh wasn’t allowed at the table so this was the perfect move to alleviate Parson’s suspicions—act cocky like the other Almighty expected.
“What’s the purpose of your project?” This would determine if his suggestions would help or hurt Parson’s task.
Parson lowered his voice. “It’s top secret. I have to deliver a device that’ll be implanted under the skin, like your tracking device, but it’ll secrete medication on—”
“What kind of medication?” Something scurried around in his subconscious, making him shift in his seat and glance at the door.
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I’m not exactly given choices on what I work on around here.”
“Well, you should’ve. The distribution method will depend on the viscosity of the fluid.” Not being given enough details was typical of many labs but this one reminded him too much of Conguise’s—too many secrets. A chill ran through his body, but he kept his face impassive. Now he remembered. He’d been working on something like this for Conguise years ago, before he’d quit and started his own business.
“I hadn’t thought of that.” Parson pulled a notepad from his shelf. “I’ll find out the viscosity.”
