“You are lucky. Sopherim could have done far worse.” Domiant patronizingly ruffled Morwyn’s hair before getting back up. “To answer your question: Somapoline. That’s what you and the rest of your crew have been breathing in for the past fifteen minutes. It’s a personal concoction of mine.”
Domiant paced around Morwyn. “Traditionally, it is used by the Elvrids during their initiation. You see, the post of Elvrid is an incredibly honored and trusted one. And that trust is earned because no Elvrid has ever betrayed that trust and lived to brag about it.”
“Somapoline, which is produced by the vine Soma Divinorum, or Diviners’ vine, gives you quite the psychedelic trip, which I’m certain you are experiencing right now. But that is just a by-product of the vine’s true power.”
“Brother, can we move this along?” Sopherim was clearly in no mood for one of his long-winded lessons. Of course she wouldn’t be interested, a weapon such as her, forged to kill, would have little interest in the “why” of things.
“You should never waste an opportunity to educate, sister.” Domiant passed a hand through his hair before continuing. “But you are right. We do have a schedule to maintain. So I will be brief, Captain Morwyn. What I was saying was that the true power of Somapoline lies in its property to strip its user of any free will, rendering them compliant and unable to refuse any command.” Domiant paused, giving Morwyn a malicious grin. “And your crew has just been ordered to obey me.”
“Interesting,” Zanza whispered from the side as she made certain that her re-breather mask was securely fastened to her face.
“Whenever an Elvrid initiate wishes to take his or her trial, they are given a powerful dose of Somapoline. Then the Elvrids will ask the initiate precisely WHY they want to become an Elvrid. Since they are unable to refuse a command or lie for that matter, they are forced to reply truthfully. If the answer is satisfactory then the initiate is made into an Elvrid. If it isn’t, they are put to death in a manner both cruel and painful, and they are ordered not to resist.”
Domiant shuddered as the memory of old wounds flared up along hundreds of puncture scars on his chest, arms, leg and neck, all of which he kept concealed beneath the finest clothes he could find. Sopherim, in a rare display of empathy, gave him an affectionate rub between the shoulders.
“The past is dead and gone.”
“Indeed it is, sister, indeed it is.” Domiant closed his eyes and gave his neck a crack before opening them once more and fixing his attention on Captain Morwyn.
“Captain Morwyn Soltaine of the Jinxed Thirteenth, I know that you have found and awakened someone of incredible value on your ship.”
It was great to see such a proud man struggle in vain against him. To his credit, Morwyn resisted longer than Domiant would have expected from a Kelthan. “Yes, we have.”
Domiant smiled when he heard this. So his initial guess and order before boarding the ship had been the right one. “Very good, Captain, very good. Now tell me, just where is this priceless cargo located?”
Again Morwyn tried in vain to resist, but he could not fight the narcotics coursing in his bloodstream. “She was in the cantina.”
“Mikali told me she had only found the doctor in the cantina,” Sopherim interjected.
“Then she lied to you in order to mask her damned incompetence, sister.” Domiant scratched beneath his chin for a moment before formulating his next question.
“Who is the Ancient Human on your ship?”
Morwyn struggled again, trying once more to resist. He bit down on his lip and tightened all of his muscles, letting out a deep growl. Beads of sweat were forming on his brow and he was visibly trembling. Domiant leaned against a nearby wall and watched with his arms confidently crossed over his chest.
There was nothing more entertaining to him than watching someone struggle against the inevitable. There wasn’t a Humanis mind in the Infinite that could resist the effects of Somapoline. Like countless had before him, the Captain’s will would eventually crack then break altogether. Domiant patiently watched and smiled as he waited to get what he wanted.
CHAPTER 24
JESSIE
It’s not enough for me to best my opponents. I need to make them regret crossing me in the first place.
—Leonid Marko, Garthem drill-instructor
20th of SSM–11 1445 A2E
It was a good thing for Jessie to see that Phaël was not as shocked as she was at what was happening right now. Not that she was that comfortable with someone, a stranger she had just met for that matter, pointing a weapon at her. It was easy enough to deduce that there was something in the air forcing Chance’s hand, as she was visibly trembling, as if struggling with herself.
In her past Jessie had once read an article about a narcotic named Scopolamine. It could be absorbed through the skin and was both tasteless and odorless. When ingested the subject was supposed to experience quite the trip and become incredibly compliant. Could the air of the ship have been laced with some sort of aerosol variant? If that was the case, Jessie could not help but feel that much worse about the situation playing itself out before her.
“Don’t move. I need to assist the voice.” Chance took a step back, making her way to an intercom panel on a wall behind her. “He needs to know that you are here, Jessie Madison.”
“You are not weak, Kelthan girl. You can fight this.” Phaël’s expression was surprisingly calm from beneath the membrane of that jellyfish-like helmet she was wearing. One hand was raised up in a calming gesture while the other was inconspicuously reaching behind her.
Once more Chance stopped, looking less and less like a person and more and more like a machine that was trying to process a set of conflicting orders. Jessie could see what Phaël was trying to accomplish, but Chance was clearly a trained soldier and she never let her weapon drop.
It looked like Chance was going to break down and sob. “Please, Phaël, stop. I don’t want to kill you but I know that if he orders me to do it I won’t be able to resist.”
Jessie could see that Phaël was reaching for one of her whips. However she would not be able to get any kind of drop on Chance as long as she remained focused on her. “Listen, Chance, is it?”
Chance looked to Jessie, but kept her weapon pointed directly at Phaël. Jet-black with a red charge counter on it. Jessie had never liked guns and she found that even in this time, they looked just as menacing. “I . . . you’re what the voice wants. The human.”
Jessie slowly stepped between Phaël and Chance. “That’s right, shoot me and you fail.”
Chance visibly hesitated and lowered her weapon. It was all Phaël needed. The Wolver vaulted herself over Jessie’s shoulder and slung out her whip. The vine wrapped itself around Chance’s wrist. The young woman was much faster to react than Jessie would have expected as she tossed the pistol into her other hand. But before she could get a shot off, Phaël yanked on her whip and pulled Chance toward her. She balled up her feet into fists and slingshotted herself into Chance. Both fists connected on the young private’s temple and Chance went limp, floating unconscious.
Jessie rushed over to Chance and quickly fastened on her helmet. There was a pressurized hiss accompanied by a green light, which Jessie interpreted as good. In her time green lights had always been a good sign; hopefully things hadn’t changed that much in the thousands of years she had slept.
Phaël shot Jessie a thumbs-up before examining Chance more closely. “She seems like a nice enough girl, despite being a Pax-Born Kelthan.”
“Will she be all right?”
Phaël shrugged as she rolled her whip up and holstered it in a pouch in the small of her back. “She will be sore and have a massive headache. I did my best to soften the blow, but couldn’t risk a firefight in a closed space.”
“Fair enough.” Jessie quickly tied Chance down to a bench in the armo
ry. She made sure the straps were easily detachable, Chance would probably regain consciousness and Jessie would have felt awful if the poor girl was helpless and unarmed when it happened. Which was why she also reholstered her sidearm. Jessie hoped the effects of whatever drugs in Chance’s system would be done by then.
“What are you planning?” Phaël asked as she watched Jessie do this.
Jessie took a step toward the airlock and looked out. She could now make out the tiny vessel that had docked with them earlier today, the Althena. Their ship was overtaken, and Jessie did not relish the prospect of her and Phaël having to go toe-to-toe with any other active member of their crew on top of the mercenaries who had taken over their ship.
She was fairly confident that the Jinxed Thirteenth could hold about thirty people comfortably. The Althena? It was much smaller; there was no way their numbers were in the double digits. If most of them were now on the Jinxed, that meant that their foe’s nest would be unguarded.
She had the bag of explosives, she had her plasma cutters and she had Phaël at her side. Jessie had been running and hiding for longer than she could remember, and she was tired of it. The time had come for action.
“They messed with our ship, so I say we go mess with theirs.” Jessie nodded toward the Althena and gave the bag of confiscated grenades a pat, in case her spoken Pax Common wasn’t clear enough for her companion to understand.
There was something incredibly predatory about Phaël’s grin when Jessie did this. She gave her an approving look. She looked back at Chance and, confident that the young private was safe, she pulled the lever on the airlock.
For the first time since she had awakened, Jessie stepped out of the safety of the Jinxed Thirteenth into the Infinite Void. They had been playing defense all day today. It was time to take the fight to their enemies.
It was time to reclaim her goddamned ship.
CHAPTER 25
MORWYN
We can come up with a training scenario and solution to a plethora of problems. Yet it is the unexpected ones that will really spell your downfall. Try not to act too surprised when they happen, and you might just survive them.
—Gengi Suun, Galasian Khan
20th of SSM–11 1445 A2E
The Pax Humanis military was one of the most well-oiled and efficient superpowers. Officers of the Pax were given training to resist various interrogation techniques. During his days at the combat academies of Barathul, Morwyn had been injected with a variety of truth serums and chemical cocktails, the purpose of which was to harden his mind should he be captured and subjected to such tactics.
The feeling going through him right now was not a painful one, and were it not for the imminent threat posed to his ship and crew, Morwyn might have even enjoyed the heady trip that he was presently experiencing. He shook his head and pinched the webbing between his thumb and index finger. The pain was an anchor he could focus on in this present moment. If he gave in to the trip all would be lost.
And yet there was a part of him right now that wanted, no, needed, to answer Domiant’s question. It was not a loyalty, and felt more like a form of enslavement. He shot Domiant a challenging look as he chewed his lip, fighting the urge to answer the questions he was being asked.
All of this seemed to entertain his tormentor. He merely smiled and clapped his hands in an applause dripping with mockery. “My dear captain, I commend you.”
He knelt down so that he was at eye level with Morwyn. “I don’t want to play this game all night. Tell me, is the Ancient Human on your ship the sickly looking Thegran woman?”
Morwyn hoped that his shock did not play out on his face. How could Domiant have pieced all that together? “Yes.” Morwyn looked away from Domiant, ashamed that his will had so easily been broken.
Domiant patted him on the cheek. “Very good, Captain. You’ll find that all of this is far easier when you stop struggling.”
“I hope the void claims your hateful soul.” Morwyn’s curse was pure venom.
Domiant rose back up to his feet and looked to his sister Sopherim, who had silently watched the entirety of the exchange with her Kohbran companion.
“My dear captain, there is no other side or Great Beyond. I speak from experience, you see. I have died before.”
“Is there anything else we should know about this Human?” Sopherim asked, and immediately Morwyn felt the urge to tell her everything.
“She is with child.” Like before, he was unable to resist, and part of him was ashamed of this. Morwyn vowed to himself that if he made it out of this that he would make sure both Domiant and his crew of criminals faced justice for what they had done to him.
Domiant lit up. “Well, that is interesting.”
“She must still be somewhere on the ship,” said the Kohbran woman with the gecko eyes.
“Do you want me to track her down, brother?”
Domiant pursed his lips for a moment, deep in thought and processing all the new information he had just learned. Just as he was about to open his mouth to say something there was a sudden crackle of static from an old comm-link that Domiant had clipped into his belt.
“What is it, Mikali?”
“We need your help on the bridge. The pilot has sealed us out and won’t let us in,” a grating woman’s voice explained. Morwyn thought he heard nervousness in her tone.
Domiant visibly winced in annoyance before looking to Morwyn and asking, “Does your main bridge have its own independent air supply?”
“Yes.” Domiant had been right; it was easier not to resist. “She won’t let you in. And as long as the main bridge is sealed off, you won’t ever have full control of my ship.”
This elicited a cocky sneer from Domiant. “You are mistaken, Captain. This is now MY ship and you are simply too stupid to realize it.”
Domiant pushed down on the speak button of his comm-link. “You and Niko are to hold your positions. I will be there shortly to solve your little problem for you.”
“Will do, boss,” the woman named Mikali answered back. Morwyn held back a smile. He had the names of the Althena’s crew. Not a major victory, but a small boon nonetheless.
For his part Domiant let out an exasperated sigh before speaking in Wolven to his sister, possibly believing that neither Morwyn nor the Kohbran would be able to understand them. He was mistaken. Morwyn had been given linguistic tutors in his youth, and while he was in no way fluent, he could easily understand and read Wolven, the second most widely used dialect in the cosmos after his native PaxCom.
“The Living Green loves to test my patience, sister.”
“Consider it all a challenge, brother. Either you will overcome it or be destroyed by it.” Sopherim replied.
“You have been most useful, Captain. Now I will need to go solve this little problem we are facing. In the meantime.” Domiant snapped his fingers rudely at the Kohbran. She looked to him awaiting her orders.
“Zanza, get into the Captain’s mind, learn all the secrets he hasn’t told us yet.” Domiant gave Morwyn a cruel look. “Your Paxist military was useless in resisting my manner of interrogation, Captain, and I can assure you that it will not fare any better against the mind of a Kohbran gene lector.”
Morwyn could not help but feel a pang of apprehension when he heard Domiant say this. Gene lectors were not a common foe, and one the Pax Humanis had precious little information about. Rumor had it they were capable of reading thoughts, and gleaning even the most deeply kept secrets. It was one of the main reasons as to why the Kohbran were typically shunned and reviled in the borders of Pax space.
For his part, Domiant seemed to savor the look of fear playing itself out on Morwyn’s face. “Come, Sopherim, let us leave these two alone, that they may get more closely acquainted.”
Domiant walked away, with Sopherim at his side. He stopped before stepping out of the
grav ring. “Zanza, once you are done with him, if it turns out that his mind is reduced to a gibbering mass, that would be most satisfactory.”
The Kohbran named Zanza did not break eye contact with Morwyn when she heard the order. “So shall it be.”
Satisfied with the answer, Domiant and Sopherim left Morwyn alone with Zanza. She placed her hand on Morwyn’s chest and suddenly he felt as if his breath and hers were one and the same. Try as he might, Morwyn could not look away from her and he could now hear a new voice in his mind that was not his own.
He could hear the whisper of Zanza’s voice echoing in his head. “It is useless to struggle against me. Your thoughts are now my own.” Sheer terror enveloped Morwyn as he felt invisible fingers in his mind, unraveling his inner self, piece by piece. Had he been able to, Morwyn would have screamed. Instead he suffered in silent agony as the world around him dimmed into darkness.
CHAPTER 26
DOMIANT
The trick with threats is not to deliver on them. Rather, it is to make the victim believe that you will deliver on them if they do not do as you say.
—Jeno Colt, Argent Interrogator
20th of SSM–11 1445 A2E
Arriving at the bridge of the Jinxed Thirteenth, Domiant found it was all he could do not to verbally chew out both Niko and Mikali, who were standing in front of the bridge’s main entrance. Off to the side, awaiting its next command, was Mikali’s enslaved Machina puppet, Chord. The bridge was locked by a blast door, and it was obvious that no weapon was going to get through it without causing serious damage to the bridge itself. The Jinxed Thirteenth was, after all, a sturdy vessel.
He was infuriated with Niko, Mikali and Jerkol Loc. The incompetence of not being able to mention the tiny detail of the main bridge having its own air supply could have severely jeopardized the plan. As it stood, fortunately, this was a minor nuisance.
Niko banged a fist on the door as Domiant approached them. “Solid door, won’t budge, and the bitch pilot on the other side won’t let us in.”
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