Victoria carefully laid her clothes in the chair she had been occupying. The bandages from the soldiers' kit, she placed in a box for biological waste provided by the doctor.
Iro grew more comfortable, more clinical as well, as she inspected Victoria's wounds. She came to the deep gash in her side from the elite's sword and asked, “who did this?”
“The elite.”
Iro chuckled. “No, I mean the stitching.”
“I did that myself.”
Iro hummed. “With your permission, I'd like to remove these stitches, clean, and re-close it myself.”
“'My permission?'” Victoria echoed. Out of everything she experienced since encountering Pallasophia and her team of soldiers, that simple statement jarred her more than anything else.
Iro nodded. “I'm a doctor, not a jailer. I won't do anything without a patient's permission.”
“Even if the Hexarch orders it?”
“A doctor has certain privileges that supersede rank. Regardless, may I?”
Victoria nodded, and Iro went to work. She numbed the area, a sensation Victoria found profoundly strange, removed the thread she had sewn there, and washed the cut.
“You used mastigas blood on this.” It was not a question.
“Yes. I knew about it from... another life.”
“I see.”
“That idea bothers you, doesn't it?”
Iro continued looking at her work stitching Victoria's side up. Her voice was suddenly formal. “As I said before, I objected on an ethical basis to the manner in which this Project was carried out. That, however, is the past. I could no more change it than I could have fought that elite myself.”
After another two hours, Doctor Iro pronounced her wounds as cleaned and cared for as they could be. She provided Victoria with a simple, gray hospital gown. Her clothing and weapons—aside from a single fonias knife she insisted on strapping to her bare calf despite Iro's assurances that she did not need it—now resided in a large bag slung over her shoulder.
As she escorted Victoria back to the waiting room, Iro reminded her that she had only cleaned Victoria's wounds and impressed upon her the necessity for bathing as soon as she was able to remove the rest of the dirt and blood. She also promised to tell her everything the tests found, and to explain, if necessary, what any of it meant.
“One final thing,” Iro said. “We will most likely want to schedule several more appointments over the coming weeks to monitor your vital signs and other important factors.”
Victoria nodded. “I understand.”
Pallasophia was waiting for them. She wore a blue robe like the doctor's, but of a different shade and with different embroidery. The bruises and cuts still stood out on her face, but she looked like she had washed and cleaned her own wounds as well. She too stared when she saw Victoria without her helmet on.
Iro smiled. “Hello again, Pallasophia.”
The other Second Lord shook off her surprise and stood. “How is she?”
“Excellent health, despite her wounds. Perhaps in better health than anyone else I have ever seen.”
Pallasophia nodded, then turned to Victoria. “Good. I'm sure you want to sleep. If you'll follow me, I'll escort you to my suite here.”
“Your suite?”
“Yes. I have a private kitchen and dining room and several guest rooms.”
Victoria nodded slowly. If the guest rooms were as comfortable as the chairs in Iro's examination room, she supposed she could do worse. More importantly, she still had her knives and baton.
“Thank you, doctor,” Pallasophia said, and turned to leave.
“Go with the suns, Victoria,” Iro said, inclining her head slightly.
Victoria paused, turned back to where Iro stood watching the two of them and nodded in return. Unsure of what she was supposed to say in return, or even if there was a proper reply, she said, “you too, doctor.”
Epilogue
Later that evening, a man in an yellow robe met with a woman in green. They stood just inside one of the smaller embarkation areas adjacent to the main landing pad atop the Aphelion's roof. Shuttles came and went every so often up there and it was always milling with people, so the two of them went entirely unnoticed.
A shuttle roared nearby, loud even through the walls.
“You are certain?” she asked.
The man nodded. “Fourth Lord Markos confirmed it himself.”
“And you trust him?”
“I have no reason not to. He said that Second Lord Glaukos was very reverent in her presence.”
“Did either of them address this woman by name or title?”
“No, Third Lord,” he replied. The two of them had never used names, only the ranks that were obvious by their robes.
“And yet you are sure?”
“I am, Third Lord. Markos said she was not in the system registry, and the only people who would be missing from the system are criminals, those religious fools from Prosgeiosi, and...”
“And,” the Third Lord Finished, “someone who was born at this facility.”
“My thoughts exactly, Third Lord.”
“I assume you have proof to back up your claims?” she asked.
The Fourth Lord nodded. “I do.” He produced a small holodrive from the folds of his robe and held it out. It glittered with the same sort of artwork and decoration that covered everything else around them, perfectly unremarkable.
The Third Lord pocketed the holodrive with a swift, but unhurried, motion.
“That contains the few images that Fourth Lord Markos was able to capture as well as the biometric data the passive scanners were able to measure through her armor.”
“Armor?” The Third Lord asked, raising an eyebrow.
He nodded. “Yes, Third Lord. Fourth Lord Markos said that her armor looked to be mastigas in origin.”
“Fascinating.”
“My thoughts as well.”
“You have done well, Fourth Lord,” she said after a moment's consideration. “I will arrange to have the payments made as discreetly as possible.”
“Thank you, Third Lord.”
“I should be thanking you, Fourth Lord. It is not often I get to bring such news to the First Lord. My Hexarch will be pleased to have a leg up on Tritogenes when the time comes.”
“Go with the suns, Third Lord.”
“Go with the suns, Fourth Lord,” she said, and turned. “I must be off. My ship will be leaving very soon.”
AUTHOR’S NOTES
The story that would eventually become Scourge of Gods started out as two separate writing projects. I’ll explain what one of them was in the notes of volume 3, I think. Even going into what that idea was would result in a number of spoilers for volumes 2 and 3, so it’ll remain a mystery.
The one I will talk about now goes back to the age-old divide among writers between people who plan their stories and people who just “wing it.” I’ve always been the latter, what we call a “pantser,” because we write “by the seat of our pants,” but I wanted to see if I could take that one step further.
So, when I started writing Scourge, then simply titled “Arena Story,” I did so with zero plan at all. I had a single image: a shadowy figure watching a monster prowl an arena, grumbling about how “none of them are good enough” before the hero/heroine arrived to kill the monster. That was it. I had no idea if the figure was good, evil, or something in between. That figure ended up being Tritogenes, so make your own moral judgements.
Likewise, nothing about the Technocracy was ever planned. It all flowed organically through the first draft. Later revisions would clean things up, but the initial pieces of Technocrat culture and symbolism are essentially exactly as they came to me. Even “Hexarch” was an idea fleshed out after the term came about—I wrote “Hexarch” and then had to figure out what the hell that actually was.
What resulted was a single 170k novel. When every beta reader agreed that they wanted more, I sat down to break it apar
t and re-write it. That resulted in what you have now: three 109k (roughly) novels. It’s still Victoria’s story, but we get a lot more of the rest of the world, and I think that was a change for the better.
The expansion allowed me to show more about the other Titans, the Hexarchs, and even the world itself. I got to explore how the world functioned and why, and what sort of customs and art these people have. When it was all said and done, Born in Darkness was roughly 50% original draft and 50% new material.
Ultimately, I had a lot of fun writing this story, and the cast and worlds are some of my favorite so far. I feel like I say that about every story, but in this case it’s actually true.
I chose, again, to center the story around a female hero, a female superhero in this case, because I feel the world could use more of them. I see what those kinds of characters mean to people close to me, and I think, “yes. More of that.”
Special thanks to my father, John Farmer, and to Don Church, both of whom convinced me to re-write the story as a trilogy. Jason McTeer, William Wagers, and Alyssa Underwood also deserve a ton of thanks for being excellent editors and sticking it out with me.
Additional thanks to: Rick Lowden, Mike Huddleston, Ashley Ward, Steve and Diane Mitchell, Becky Spain-Kaiser, Jacob Forbes, Heather Green, Beth Davis, Kaycee Dortch, Will Nunn, Jan Parks, Sarah Phillips, and Susan and John Farmer
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
https://www.facebook.com/tafarmerauthor/
https://www.amazon.com/Thomas-A-Farmer/e/B01A436HFO/
Born to geeky parents and raised on a diet of Star Trek and Babylon 5, Thomas started writing at an early age, working his way through fanfictions of all types. For good or ill, a lot of that early work has been lost.
Writing occupied much of his spare time throughout school and the years after, eventually culminating in an ostensible magnum opus he calls the “Chronicles of St. Michael.” To this date, those stories still reek of many “early writer” problems, but he promises they will, one day, see the light of publication.
What can you expect next? Odds are, the next project is going to be the sequel to “The Week the World Ended,” but the title is, for now, a secret.
He also hosts a podcast (internet radio show, when he’s feeling fancy) called “Authors in Abstract.” As of this book, the show is well into its second season. You can listen to the podcast on a variety of platforms, or by going directly to www.authorsinabstract.com
When his hands aren’t full with books, reading or writing, he fills them with swords. Four nights a week, as of this publication anyway, he teaches historic fencing, also called HEMA (Historic European Martial Arts) as one of the head coaches of the Knoxville Academy of the Blade (www.facebook.com/KABFencing)
He lives with his wife, Stephanie, their three cats, lizard, and snake.
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