by Kelly Jensen
The ache in his head—a combination of barely repressed rage and two fists to the face—made mapping his passage into the caves difficult. He tried to keep track of the turns, but lost his bearings after the first few. The darkness between each striplight clawed at him and the tunnels wandered and diverged chaotically, the only sign of excavation the occasional scraped ceiling or wall where the way had been widened. Now and again, an opening in the wall was sealed by a hatch set into the stone. Felix mused over the manner in which the doors had been installed. If he was locked behind one of them, could he hack it? Or could he scrape away at the sealant to either side?
His escort paused in front of another hatch and unlocked it...with a key. Damn it. Though, with power being at a premium, they probably saved most of it for essential functions. Felix had plenty of experience picking locks. Give him the proper motivation, and enough time, and he could get through just about anything. Motivation wasn’t going to be an issue. Felix hated being locked up. And time...
“There’s no light.” The awful observation left him in a whisper.
“It’s just for tonight,” Andy said.
“No, you can’t leave me here in the dark.”
“Don’t worry, the door locks tight. Bogeyman ain’t gonna get ya.”
“You don’t understand. I...The dark...” Felix searched the blackness for anything he might have missed. A source of light so dim it only became apparent after a while. He found nothing. He turned back to Andy and swallowed. A part of him wanted to beg. A greater part urged him to fight, to put Andy and his fellow guard down. Flee. Find Zed. Escape this fucking madness.
He leaned forward and the other guard pushed him back, crowding the doorway and barring escape. Felix drew on his rage and readied his fists.
Silhouetted by the meager light in the tunnel, Andy shook his head. “Don’t even think about it. You seem like a good enough guy and I can’t say as Dr. Preston’s little army makes me comfortable. But this is my home and she’s got the resources we need to keep this place going. So I will hurt you if you try anything stupid.”
Something in Andy’s tone touched Felix—hit the interrupt on his rage and tossed him into reflection. It was the reasonableness of Andy’s statement, though how anyone could reasonably defend Preston was beyond him. But Andy probably didn’t know the full extent of what Preston was doing. His blissful ignorance might be purposeful, but Felix got that too. Because he understood the underlying plea his jailor had just made. This godawful planet was Andy’s home, and for some, that meant everything.
Wouldn’t Felix have fought for his home if he could?
The other guard pushed him into the room and tossed something on the floor as the door began to swing shut. “Night night.”
The door closed with a clang. The sound of the lock engaging scraped the silence seconds later. Batting at his left wrist, Felix activated his bracelet. A small holo threw a shallow pool of light into the dark space. It wasn’t enough. He needed a light by the back wall so he knew how far away it was. He needed to know the blackness wasn’t complete, that it wouldn’t choke him.
He looked at the door. Shit and all the shit. He needed a door that locked from the inside. Not this pitted expanse of metal with no hinges and no handle. Curling the fingers of his right hand into a fist, Felix made to punch the door...and stopped. Breaking his hand wouldn’t help. He needed to think his way out of the darkness.
His back itched. His head ached. His heart plodded along in his chest, every beat a call to his missing other half. What was Preston doing with Zed? To Zed? She wouldn’t cut him up, would she? Turn him into a lab rat?
No, stupid. She’s going to cut you up.
Felix gripped his left wrist—ran his fingers up to the cuff of his sleeve, pushing the fabric back as he caressed his crystalline skin.
There was no fucking way she was taking his arm.
His boot nudged something on the floor. Felix jumped back, his yell echoing inside the dark chamber. Then he remembered the other guard tossing something down. It had looked like a pouch. Rations? Water? Bending down, he swept the light of his holo display across the bare rock until he found it. Looked like a water pouch. He found a tab at the corner and pressed it. The flexible material extruded a small spout. Felix drank. Tasted weird, but the only thing worse than being stuck in a hole in the ground was being thirsty. He’d know. Stin had never given them enough water.
Man, he was tired.
After a few sips, Felix resealed the pouch and tucked it into a pocket of his utility pants. Then he explored the outline of the door. It hadn’t suddenly grown a hinge or an internal mechanism. Would Zed be able to pass through it? It couldn’t be any thicker than the cargo door of the Chaos, but shifting through that had messed Zed up for a while. And, right now, Zed was probably hurting more than he was. More tired too. Sighing, Felix rested his forehead against the metal. Maybe if he stayed here, his bracelet shining up into his face...
The lack of light behind him pressed at his back. Felix turned and sank to the floor, pushing his itching back into the door. He drew his knees up and rested his left arm across the top so that the holo display was between him and the rest of the cell.
Baldy had only taken anything they might use as a weapon. Not bracelets or wallets. Felix looked at the holographic comms button. If he tried to contact Zed, what was the worst that could happen? He’d almost welcome the oblivion of another beating. One more knock to the head would be enough to send him down. Preston needed both of them alive and well, though, and opening the doors to their cells, either to punish them or just take their wallets away, offered another opportunity for escape. If he were Preston, he wouldn’t risk it.
Felix tapped the button. “Zed?”
Endless seconds passed before the connection hissed and Zed whispered in reply, “Flick?”
All the aches and pains in his body joined forces with all the banked anger and frustration, forming a lump that blocked his throat. Felix swallowed furiously—once, twice—trying to clear the obstruction. His voice sounded strained when he found it again, but the only word he could summon was “Zed.”
He didn’t want to name his terrors, he didn’t want to circle his fear. He wanted to tell Zed he loved him, but worried the declaration would precipitate some sort of end. Choking on distress, he wished he’d said yes to Zed’s proposal of marriage the very second he’d asked. Yes, yes, yes.
Maybe Zed would have turned the ship around and...
“Flick, are you there? Talk to me.” Scuffling filled the transmission. “I’m going to try my door.”
“Locked,” Felix managed, though his tongue remained glued to the roof of his mouth.
“Might be able to shift through it. Keep talking, let me know you’re okay. Did they hurt you?”
“No, don’t try the door. I’m good. Just in a hole. I’ll be fine. You’re too—” An aborted shout and thump interrupted him. “Zed!” More of those fucking endless seconds ticked by. “Zed!”
“‘M here.”
“Are you all right?”
“Tried to shift, but I can’t. I’m sorry, I’ll try again soon. Maybe if I rest—”
Felix could picture Zed leaning against the door of his cell—or wherever Preston had put him—forehead creased with pain, shoulders drawn up stiffly, lips moving over needless apologies. “Stop. Don’t do this, just stop. You’re going to fuck yourself up more if you try again. Just...just sleep. We’ll both sleep and tomorrow we’ll figure something out.”
Everything always looked better in the morning.
“Tomorrow I’ll get you out of here. I promise. Tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow. I love you.” It was okay to say it now. Not quite as final. Maybe.
Chapter Twelve
The door swung outward and Felix fell backward, dazed by the sudden awaken
ing and the light in the tunnel. Surely night hadn’t already passed? He’d only just closed his eyes. He attempted to unstick his tongue from the roof of his mouth and managed a vague mumble. His breath tasted awful.
“Get up.” Not Andy’s voice.
Squinting, Felix rolled over and pushed to his knees. He instinctively batted away the hands reaching for him, not caring if they meant to help him up or simply drag him someplace more terrible than his cell. His will to fight rose sluggishly, hampered by a lingering ache along his jaw and up across the top of his skull. In fact, he hurt all over, and had the feeling he’d been fending off nightmares. He also recognized the sick swirl in his gut. The weird emptiness that was more than just hunger. He’d been drugged. The odd-tasting water had been laced with something.
Someone grabbed his arms and hauled him upright. Felix looked at his new guards without recognizing either of them. “Is it breakfast time?” He knew it wasn’t, but asking where they were going would be disingenuous. “I could really use a leak first.” Anxiety kept pushing useless questions forward. “What time is it?”
Silently, the guards continued to drag him forward. Felix’s feet finally woke up after ten meters or so. Walking would save his boots—because he’d be needing his boots, right? After Preston finished—
He wasn’t any more awake or alert than he’d been last night, but being dragged toward his doom helped him grab hold of his rage and use it. Felix dropped to his knees, hoping to pull his guards off balance. The guy on his right barely grunted. The one on his left huffed and squeezed his arm a little tighter. Rocking backward, Felix tried to tug his arms free. His guards pulled him forward again. He kicked out in an attempt to hook his foot behind the knee of the guy on the right. Might as well have kicked a tree for all the reaction he got. Felix continued to struggle, despite the obvious futility, until his guards’ silent and impenetrable will suddenly made sense. They were Preston’s soldiers and they were Zoning. Super strong, less than communicative and dedicated to their purpose, they were focused on their mission objective: get him to the lab.
Fuck.
Felix let his fear take him for a minute. Losing his shit in a dim hallway would be less embarrassing than doing it in front of Preston. He swore and bucked and kicked. Tried every trick in his collection. Then his exhausted body betrayed him, sagging under its own weight, arms and legs all loose and floppy and achy, the pounding in his head like the roar of an attitude thruster.
They pulled him through an open hatch into a brighter space, and Felix immediately regretted having wasted so much energy. Blinking against the harsh lighting, he tried to take stock of his surroundings. They’d brought him to Preston’s lair, that much was clear. Stark and functional, the space resembled one of the workrooms back at the asteroid—except for the clear plasmix wall running down the center. The opposite side looked familiar too: it was set up like an operating theater. A wall of equipment, auto-docs, monitors and trays of standard tools. In the middle were two beds and one victim. Well, Felix considered the woman strapped to one of the tethered floats a victim. She might think differently.
Preston stood on this side, suited up in white, hands encased in weird, shiny gloves. “Strip him and put him through the decon scan.”
Why did he need to be stripped? She was only interested in his arm, wasn’t she? Felix pulled against the tight hold of the guards. “Look, just take a finger or something. You don’t need to put me in there.” What the fuck was he saying? “Where’s Zed? Is he here? Is he coming? What have you done with him?”
She hadn’t already taken him apart, had she? No. No—he needed to stop thinking that. Preston needed Zed alive and well. She wanted him to train her army, right?
Preston didn’t answer any of his questions. Exhausted, Felix put up only a token struggle as he was dragged toward the decon unit in the corner. There, one of the guards held his arms up while the other pulled his boots and pants off. Felix managed to get a couple of head kicks in before they switched places, one guard holding him by the waist while the other pulled his shirt over his head.
Naked, Felix felt more vulnerable—particularly with his new arm fully exposed. Preston seemed more interested in the scars crisscrossing his torso, marking his legs and circling his ankles and right wrist.
“The stin really are a rather barbaric people,” she murmured.
“Like you’re any better. Experimenting on your own kind? You’re a fucking monster.” Felix tried to spit, but his mouth was so dry he produced little more than a tsking sound.
His guards thrust him into the scan unit and activated it. Sonic waves scoured the dirt from his body, and an astringent mist killed anything alien on his person. It was almost as unpleasant as a chemical wash station, except he emerged with hair.
They handed him a thin pair of pants and gave him approximately one second to pull them up over his legs before dragging him toward the door in the clear partition. Surely all this manhandling messed with the decon scan. Preston held out a laser scalpel and Felix wilted. Couldn’t she have drugged him or something? Saved him some struggle and the indignity of being stripped and examined? He cast a longing look at his crumpled utility pants. He still had most of that pouch of funny-tasting water tucked in one of the pockets.
“Tell me if this hurts.” Preston activated the scalpel.
Oh for the love of...He wasn’t Zed. There was no way he could pretend the touch of a laser scalpel didn’t hurt. “It’ll hurt!” he yelled. “It’s like a regular arm that way. It’ll hurt.” He glanced at the woman lying strapped to the other float. Did Preston prod and poke all her people with laser scalpels?
Smiling, Preston flicked off the scalpel and tucked it into her belt and pulled out a hypo. “Can’t have you thrashing about while I explore this marvel.”
Explore?
“Please don’t do this. It’s wrong.” Felix turned to appeal to the men holding him. “Can’t you see this is wrong? Hasn’t she already put you through enough?”
The expression of one of his guards might have flickered—or the light in the lab might have wavered briefly. The other had the beginnings of a familiar crease between his brows. Either way, it was like talking to a wall. Preston pressed the hypo to his neck and triggered it. “I can’t promise this procedure won’t hurt, but you can rest assured I will do everything to make you comfortable. You’re a very important component of this program, Felix.”
“Fuck you.”
The world spun and danced away.
* * *
Zed stared at the men and women lined up before him in the makeshift gym carved out of one of the larger caverns under the cliff. Training people was something he usually enjoyed doing, watching their confusion lift as they grasped a concept or seeing their eyes light up with success.
Right now, he couldn’t give a fuck if the people in front of him got what he was showing them or not.
After waking up with a mild headache and a fuzzy mouth on the cell floor, it hadn’t taken Zed long to figure out he’d been drugged. He’d had a couple of sips of water from a pouch as he spoke with Flick—but he couldn’t remember falling asleep. He should’ve known Preston would enforce her “rest” command.
So now he was stuck teaching a group of ten ragtag wannabe soldiers. A handful of them might have been former AEF—they had the stance of guys who’d been through combat, but for all Zed knew, they might have been from colonies that had seen battles during the war. The others, though—Christ, where did Preston find them? They were so fucking young. He’d bet nearly anything that four of them were university students or recent grads. They had that wide-eyed must-learn-everything look that privileged kids fresh from education often had. The other three—he had no doubt they were station rats. They weren’t any older than the university crew, but their eyes held anything but innocence. These would be Preston’s unseen soldiers—the ones who
got in, did the dirty work and got out, before anyone even knew they were there.
Hell of a life.
Dwelling on what these kids were and weren’t was just a way for him to distract himself from the fact that he hadn’t seen a hint of Flick. When he’d asked about him, he’d been told to teach for an hour, then his guards would take him to Flick.
It had been an hour and a half.
Assholes. Zed walked around the floor, eyeing the kids as they sparred with each other. He looked like he was engaged—but he wasn’t, not fully. Plans for escape flowed through his mind, along with an inventory of weapons and potential enemies. There was an arms locker at the rear of the training room, but with the doors closed, he couldn’t see inside. What was the likelihood of Preston keeping larger weapons that weren’t bio-locked? Her guards only carried stunners. It was possible she refused to equip them with anything more deadly so that they’d go to their training first. The soldiers, themselves, were to be weapons, after all.
As for enemies, he wasn’t sure if he could count every colonist in that column or not, but the men and women he was training definitely were. Even so, the plans couldn’t develop very far without one key piece of data.
Where was Flick? And what shape was he in?
“Again!” Zed barked. He didn’t care that his “students” dripped with sweat. He’d work them until they took him to Flick—or the kids passed out, whichever came first.
Of the ten men and women in front of him, only five could Zone—two of the soldiers, one of the university crew and two of the station rats. Maybe Preston was applying her poison in stages. Whatever the case, Zed hoped like hell that the kids who couldn’t Zone yet were watching the ones who could and seeing the signs of destabilization. The rapid blinking as they struggled to hold the Zone, the permanently etched furrows in their foreheads.
