The Genesis Sequence Books 6-10

by Mackenzie Morris

  "Fine." Ben grunted as he sent the cane slicing through the air to collide with Vance's stomach. In a blur of anger that was fueled by all the things his husband had done to him and to the people he cared about, Ben unleashed a flurry of blows on every exposed part of his prisoner's body. Each hit felt like freedom, like ecstasy, like the release of everything he had buried deep inside his soul.

  Vance's gasps and yelps morphed into suffered groans and the labored breathing of someone who had given up. His muscles ceased their tensing, resigned to being bruised and tortured without stop. His legs buckled until he was hanging from his wrists and his head was bowed in submission.

  Once he was soaked in his own sweat from the exertion of hitting his husband with all of his strength, Ben dropped the cane to the floor with a clank. He took Vance's stubble-covered chin in his hand and forced him to look up at him. "Ready to talk yet? If not, I will be forced to take things to a different level. You will not find it pleasant. Your back is bleeding and you are covered in bruises. How much more can you really take? I think I cracked the cane on your shoulders."

  "It's nothing I haven't gone through before. I'm no stranger to torture. I already told you people that I won't talk to anyone but Benjamin. Send him in here."

  "How do I know that you won't try to attack him or trick him into freeing you? He is your husband, after all."

  Vance began to quietly beg. "Ben. Let me talk to Ben. Please."

  "Are you going to talk?"

  "With Ben."

  "Ben doesn't want to talk to you."

  "What are you going to do with me now?" Vance asked.

  "Something that violates many morality laws in various galaxies." Ben walked behind his husband then grabbed onto Vance's jeans. He reached around him to unbutton them. In one swift move, he pulled the pants down around his ankles.

  "Don't. Don't touch me. You can't do this. Even you have to have lines you won't cross. Please."

  "Oh, so you know what's coming for you." He unwound the chain from the hook on the ceiling then pushed Vance towards the table. Once he was on his hands and knees, Ben wrapped the chains around the legs of the table that were bolted to the floor. There was no way he was getting free.

  "What are you doing?" Vance's voice reflected his growing panic. He thrashed his legs, but the chains around his wrists kept him tethered to the table. "Don't. Please."

  Ben moved behind him and began scraping his fingernails down Vance's already bleeding back. "Shut up. You're the prisoner here. You don't get to give orders anymore. I'm tired of you bossing me around all the time. Now it's my turn."

  "Ben? Are you . . . is it you, Ben?"

  "It's me. Now, if you move too much, this will only hurt you more."

  Vance smiled, despite the pain from his back and shoulders. "You are so hot like this. I love it when you take control. Where did this come from? I've never seen this side of you."

  "Are you enjoying this?" Ben kissed his husband's sweat-slicked cheek. "You're not supposed to be enjoying this. What is wrong with you? I just beat the crap out of you and you're on your knees and vulnerable in chains. Now you want me to continue?"

  "What can I say? I'm only a man. Yes, you have my consent. You know you never have to ask for that." Vance bowed his head. "Listen, I'm sorry. Really, I am. There are reasons I did the things I did. I know it looks awful on the outside, but I did what I had to do to keep you safe. If you untie me, I swear to you that I will explain everything. I've been begging Kalimis to bring you in here this entire week so I could talk with you, but he said I needed more time to cool off. I haven't had any of my warbringer hormone injections or the chemicals I was using. My mind is clearer than it has been in years. I know the things I've done. I've had plenty of time to put my shattered thoughts back together. It's all me now, Ben. I'm not the crazy monster I had become. I know how to end this war and save as many humans as possible. I want to help. What do you say? Can we talk?"

  "Oh, we will talk . . . after I'm done with you here."

  * * *

  Rav cautiously carried the green canvas duffel bag over one shoulder as he walked through the checkpoint that sat next to the tarmac, careful to not jostle it too much. As he passed through the sliding doors, he reached back to pat the lump in the bag. The entire Flight Force base was bustling with pilots and gunners, all racing to get to their aircraft and set out to the front lines to defend Southern Elysia from an attacking Azimandian force. His personal orders were to bomb a Valmoron fleet that was stationed on one of Elysia's moons before they had a chance to launch an attack on the main planet.

  Screens filled with battle orders, ongoing dogfights, and targets in the various human galaxies broadcast the growing hostilities of the war between humanity and the aliens. With Birom essentially wiped from existence through genocide and the Valmorons being pressured by Azimandia to submit or die, there were no alien races left on Elysia's side. The known universe was being ripped into two pieces. And Rav was stuck fighting for a corrupt government that abused its citizens all in the name of victory.

  He smoothed the wrinkles out of his white flightsuit with the golden sash across the chest and the large embroidered gold wings on the shoulders as he walked up to the shortest line for the checkpoint. The attendants and the pilots in line stopped what they were doing to salute him before turning back to scanning the flight bags and passing through metal detectors.

  As he waited in line with the slightly squirming bag on his shoulder, he watched the crowds of pilots with their assigned gunner partners eating at the food court and playing cards before being deployed together. Even though he was going to be flying a Galaxy Glider, Rav was not assigned a gunner. For that, he was actually relieved. It made the plan he had with his flight bag that much easier to carry out.

  After the line of pilots ahead of him dwindled down, Rav turned his attention to the attendants. He smiled at them. Like always, he sped through the metal detector and headed towards the food court, but someone called out something he couldn't hear over the sounds of the planes outside on the tarmac taking off and the chatter of the pilots as they ate. Rav took one more step, but his arm was caught by one of the attendants.

  The young woman in the blue flightsuit and the silver beret motioned to the scanner. "Sir, you're not free to leave yet."

  "Excuse me? Is there a problem?"

  "Place your duffel bag on the scale for inspection."

  "Inspection?" Rav's heart leapt in his chest. His palms immediately became clammy. "Do you know who I am?"

  "Yes. You are Commander of Flight Rav Avery Tillman. Please place your duffel bag on the scale for inspection . . . sir."

  Growling under his breath, Rav slid the canvas bag off of his shoulder then delicately placed it on the conveyor belt that doubled as a scale. He bit his lip as he watched the green numbers on the digital scale grow.

  The attendant frowned. "Your bag is thirty-five pounds over the weight limit."

  "I'm not going up in a Star Streaker. There are no weight limits."

  "There are always weight limits for flight packs, no matter what ship they are being taken on. We are going to have to search through this and remove some weight before you will be allowed to continue to your ship. We will have to send this through the x-ray machine. Please unzip your bag for further inspection, sir."

  That was the last thing he wanted to do. "What? Why?"

  The attendant's left hand drifted to the laser pistol on her hip. "Remain calm, sir. Did you pack your own bag?"

  "Uh, yes."

  "Are you knowingly attempting to transport unauthorized cargo onto a Flight Force Galaxy Glider?"

  "I have no idea what you're talking about." Rav glanced down at his communicator. "I'm needed on the tarmac. You're going to make me late for my flight."

  "If you refuse to open your pack for us, then I will have to do it myself." The attendant pulled on a pair of blue latex gloves before cautiously unzipping the bag. She held up a flashlight with one hand to s
hine inside while she stuck her other hand inside to begin pulling out the contents. First, she took out a rectangular box filled with crackers and a juice box with a straw on the side. She raised her eyebrows. "Apple juice and animal crackers?"

  "They're for my son."

  "Why do you need them for . . . oh God." The attendant turned as pale as a ghost before turning the bag for Rav to see the sickly bald boy with the mint green eyes who was curled up inside. "Are you smuggling children? Are you selling them?"

  "No. He's my son. He's Nemo Tillman. I have all his medical documents. He's fine."

  "He doesn't look fine. He's covered in bruises and burns. What have you been doing to this poor boy?"

  "Nothing." Rav pulled some folded papers from inside his uniform jacket. "Here. Here are his medical records. You can check everything out yourself. If there was a problem or if anyone suspected me of harming him, they wouldn't have let me take him with me."

  She took the papers and flipped through them. "He's seven years old but he only weighs thirty-two pounds? You're starving him. Why is he so small?" The attendant stared at Rav with wide eyes. "Sir, you can't take him on a Galaxy Glider. More than that, I'm going to have to report this."

  "Then I'm not flying. You can't report this. There's nothing wrong going on here. I didn't hurt him. I've never hurt him."

  She picked up her communicator and quickly dialed a number. "Allow me to call for General of Flight Cunningham. I'm sure you will listen to your superior. Do you know that you could be executed for child abuse on this level? Who knows what else you have done to this child? Either way, you will not get on that ship. The punishment for insubordination is four months in solitary confinement and a flogging."

  Rav kept an eye on his tiny seven-year-old son who remained curled up in the bag. "You don't want to do that. I'm sure Cunningham won't try it either. I'm the best damn pilot we've got. Locking me away for four months won't get us any closer to ending this war. If you value your job, your family, and your life, you will let me get up in the sky so I can fight to save your ass."

  "Oh, here he is now. Over here, if you please, General of Flight Cunningham. We have a security breach issue that I need you to check out."

  The man in the ankle-length white leather coat with the golden sash that was covered in colorful medals strutted up to the attendant. He ran his hand over his brown buzz-cut hair. "What is the problem? Do you not understand that we're at war? We don't have time for this petty bickering."

  Rav stood at attention and saluted the general of flight. "Sir."

  The attendant held out the bag to Cunningham. "Sir, we found this inside Commander of Flight Tillman's bag. He was attempting to smuggle it through security and onto his Galaxy Glider."

  Cunningham took the bag, glanced inside, then set it back down. His rough tanned face hardened. "There's a child in your bag, Tillman."

  "Yes, sir. He's my son."

  "He doesn't look well. Has he been cleared by medical?"

  "Yes, sir. He is in a permanent state of trauma. His computer brain can't cope with all the abuse he's been through. The medicine the doctors gave him interferes with his processors, but if he doesn't take it, he just sits there and screams. I'm the only one who can take care of him. I refuse to leave him with anyone else. I still want to do my job, sir, but my son comes with me. I trust you were given a copy of my deposition that details the events that happened a week ago, so you know why I will not leave Nemo with anyone ever again."

  The general of flight took out his communicator then scrolled over some data on the screen. "Yes, and I received word from medical that you were cleared for flight. However, it is against protocol to allow a child, even an android one, onto a fighter plane, especially one that will be in dogfights. You're a fighter pilot, Tillman. You could be shot down any moment while you're up there. Any number of things could go wrong."

  Rav was not about to give up that easily. "You and the rest of the military are kidnapping children younger than him and forcing them onto the front lines where they are mowed down by Azimandian warbringers. How is this any worse? If something does go wrong, at least my son will die with me, not alone and afraid on a battlefield."

  "I can't argue with that logic, Tillman. Very well. You're clear to go. However, if you insist on taking your boy with you, do not stuff him into a duffel bag. Everyone knows now, so you can carry him or let him walk on his own. He is not cargo. He is a human being. Despite what the rest of my colleagues believe about using children, I do not hold their same views. Take care of your son, Tillman."

  Rav helped Nemo out of the duffel bag then fixed the boy's green t-shirt and jeans. He cradled his silent son against his chest. "Yes, sir. I will, sir. Thank you."

  Chapter 2

  Sandra spun around in her chair next to Kalimis as they watched the footage from the camera that was set up in the cell. She played with the ends of her curly brown hair that framed her dark tan skin and the black 'R' on her forehead. As she spun around in a circle in the middle of the messy cockpit where pink toolboxes and frozen burrito wrappers littered the floor, she listened to the audio coming over the screen. "Kalimis, what's going on in the cell?"

  "Don't know. Wait. What the hell is going on in there?"

  She stopped spinning to look at the screen. Her cheeks burned pink with embarrassment. "Is Ben doing what I think he's doing?"

  "He won't. He won't. Oh! He did. He's doing it."

  She laughed. "We could totally sell this footage on the internet."

  Kalimis covered his eyes with his hands, but he peeked through his fingers. "I can't watch . . . but I can't look away."

  "Turn the cameras off. We don't need to watch this. Go stop this. It's clear that Ben isn't doing what he is supposed to be doing. We don't have time to be playing around with this. Vance has vital information that we need to make our next move. Time is running out. Even this morning, over two full battalions of Elysian military soldiers and vehicles were firebombed on Elysia's moons. According to the reports I've been receiving from the rest of the Red Sand Rebels, the casualties from fighting on AX-97 and Elysia's outer territories has doubled since yesterday. On top of that, Darkshot has been invaded. I don't have details about that because it's so early on in the event. The Elysian government has issued a warning for all of Darkshot, including Darkshot City. The entire planet is on lockdown. We're losing this war."

  Her twin brother with the green mohawk glanced back from where he was on his knees beside the flight consoles, tinkering with the autopilot functions. "What's going on in there? How's the interrogation going?"

  "Uh . . . it's . . ."

  "They're fooling around, aren't they?"

  "A bit. Anyway, do you have anything for me, hermano?" Sandra asked, sliding her fingers under her red suspenders. "Did you get my autopilot working again? We've been drifting out here for two days. I thought you said you could fix my ship, Sawyer."

  "I'm making progress. I think a couple of Ben's children got in here and tried to play with the consoles. I found peanut butter and jelly smeared over the connections down here. Other than working on this, I received a message from a Galaxy Glider pilot under the call sign of Quasar Luminous."

  "That's Rav! What was the message?" Sandra asked, scanning over the data on the screens.

  "He says that N. T. is safe, but not well. He is returning to the front lines to end this war. He wants to talk to Vance."

  "N. T.? Nemo Tillman? He found Nemo? That's wonderful."

  "He also said that we need to go to Odyssia and meet him there."

  "Odyssia?" Her smile vanished. "No. I'm not welcome there. Does he know why I have this rejected 'R' on my forehead? Because I was deemed too worthless to be executed down there. They hate me. We will all be tortured to death if we go back there. That underground city is beyond saving."

  "I think he found something there, something that will help us end the war."

  "I won't make any decisions until I speak with Rav directly. This
could be a trap. It could be someone using his call sign to send false messages. Someone go get Ben and bring him up here. I don't have time to wait around for our confused leader to stop doing whatever it is he's doing with his husband. I'm about ready to sneak down into that cell tonight and slit Vance's throat. I don't trust him to be on my ship. He's the warlord of Azimandia. If just one warbringer gets word that we're holding their leader as a prisoner, we will have the entire force of Azimandia bearing down on us. We'll be dead."

  Kalimis chimed in, flexing his muscles as he spoke. "I see what you're saying, but I trust Benjamin to make the right choices here. He knows what he's doing. He is the only one who can get through to Vance. If this technique will get Vance to open up and tell us what we need to know, then who are we to stop it? Ben is our leader, so we need to stand beside him and let him lead us."

  Sandra shook her head as she studied her radar screen. If she didn't change the subject, she was only going to grow more angry. "Where are the children? I don't like having fifteen seven-year-olds running around without supervision. That's asking for trouble."

  "They're with Slayven in Ben's room."

  "Where are the Biromians?" Sandra asked. "Dallis and Neon, right?"

  Kalimis leaned back against the wall and picked at his claws. "In the room they share with Visht, Jezzien, Derek, and Lucas."

  "How is Lucas?" Sawyer asked, crawling back under the consoles.

  "Better. Getting him off those drugs has let him think again. We actually put him in his exosuit yesterday and he walked around the hall without having any flashbacks."

  "That's promising."

  A beeping sound came from the front consoles by the glass as static came across the nearby screen.

  "What's that?" Kalimis asked.

  Sawyer called out from below the screens. "An incoming call from someone. I traced the signal all the way back to Elysia."

  "Answer it!"

  A deep authoritative voice came over the speaker. "Greetings to the Red Sand Rebels. I am General of Flight Cunningham with the Elysian Flight Force. I am requesting to speak with your leader, Prince Benjamin Trainor."