Meant to have this up sooner, but I got distraced by IRL and Inktober. Which is consistently being derailed by IRL, ick.

Anyway, thanks to my readers and reviewer, AGM. Have fun with this foray into Zachar's headspace! X'D

As usual, I don't own Magic: The Gathering or anything else by Wizards of the Coast. I wish I did, but for the sake of the Gatewatch's sanity...mebbe it's best that I don't, ehe *sweatdrops*


Chapter Nine

Owned

It was dark.

Zachar hated the dark.

It was a stupid fear. One that he should have outgrown years ago, but for some reason he never had. And so, that was why he was currently sitting cross-legged in the corner of his pitch-black cell, trying his damnedest to keep the fear at bay.

It...wasn't working.

Currently, he was sitting with his legs crossed, wrists resting easily on his knees, eyes closed (despite the fact that even if they were open, he'd be just as blind), trying to work past the fear and meditate. So far the only effect it was having was keeping his brain occupied enough so he wasn't reduced to desperate puddle of scared vedalken.

Barely.

He took a breath. Calm. Focus yourself, Zachar. Freaking out would be to their advantage, so don't freak out. He reminded himself, unclenching the fists he'd unconsciously made. Try to keep a clear head.

He'd woken up in this cell, the transport already at FTL—he could tell that much at least from the engines. It was subtle, but he'd lived so much on Sleipnir that he knew the low rumble of an active FTL drive almost better than his own heartbeat. The cell had been dark, so dark that at first he'd been afraid he had been blinded...and if he was being honest, he still wasn't entirely sure that was the case. Regardless, he couldn't sense anything outside of his cell, and there was no technology he could reach within the cell he could reach out to. And even if there was, the metal collar around his neck would've prevented it; it cut off his connection to the aether currents entirely. He couldn't have cast spells if he'd wanted ot.

On top of it, by the time he'd woken up he'd been changed into prisoner scrubs; loose pants, sleeveless shirt with no pockets, and no shoes. Zachar tried not to think about his captors changing his clothes while he'd been unconscious; the thought made his skin crawl. They hadn't even left him his chest binder.

He shuddered. That alone made him feel worse than just the darkness. He hated his body, the sheer...wrongness of it. Most of the time, he ignored it as best he could, going about his daily business...and since the world saw the appearance of a man, it treated him as such. But now that he'd had that stripped...

It reminded him just how much he hated his anatomy.

No doubt just as calculated a move as leaving my cell completely dark.

He heard a door open and the shifting of fabric as someone entered. He didn't move from his position; if he did, he was fairly certain he'd either be so stiff he'd trip over his own feet, or so jittery he'd do so. The newcomer stopped before him. "Stand."

Zachar opened his eyes and peered up at where he assumed the person's head was. The door had to have closed, s it was still completely dark. "We're not there yet."

"Stand."

Apparently, he was not going to get any answers out of his visitor. Silently he stood, and the person shifted. A moment later, a blindfold was buckled over his eyes and his wrists were bound with cuffs, before he was led out of the cell and down the hall. The deck was cold under his feet, and it was more than a little frustrating that he'd had to be blindfolded; it wasn't as if he wasn't privy to the existence of the Inquisitorium, or hadn't been on one of their ships before. It seems a bit much if you ask me.

The feeling of dread that had been gnawing at him since he woke up intensified. He clenched his hand, trying for some sort of outlet for the pent-up frustration.

After several turns and a short lift ride, he was led to another room. The cuffs were magnetized to the table and the blindfold removed as he sat. the guard left the room, the door lock whirring shut behind him. After spending so long—at least a day, possibly more—in the pitch-dark cell, the low light of the interrogation room was almost blinding, and the vedalken found himself blinking at the brightness.

The interrogation room was bare. The four durasteel walls were bare, and the chair and table were both matte gray metal. The table was built as part of the floor, and the only adornment on the top was the electromagnet that held his cuffed wrists to it. The chair sitting across from him was a twin to the one in which he sat, indicating that he was going to have company. When, there was no indication of.

His intuition was proven correct when a familiar face entered the room. It was the woman who'd contacted them at the start of this mess, back at Mezlar Station; Sonna. Her dark hair was pulled back into a tight bun, her pale eyes almost colorless, and a thin tracery of lines betrayed her more-than-human ancestry. Her suit was tailored, cut close to her body and her shoes clacked on the durasteel of the deck. She slid into the the chair o the other side of the table and set her data slate down, laying the stylus down next to it in a precise motion. "It seems things have come full-circle, Zachar."

Zachar's fist clenched. "I hope you're happy."

"I get neither satisfaction nor disappointment from this, Zahar." Sonna replied, folding her hands in front of her. "I am simply doing my job."

"Of course you are. Just like everyone else doing the Inquisitorium's dirty work."

Sonna sighed. "It was a mistake for you to leave, Zachar." She said. "You could have achieved so much."

"That's exactly what the assassin you sent said about my parents. As he was standing in the pool of their blood and aiming a blaster at my heart."

"They were a liability. They had to be eliminated before any harm could be done."

Zachar's mouth twisted. "And is that what you're about to do with me? Bring me to be executed in some dark hole somewhere nobody will be able to find?"

"No." Sonna picked up the stylus and tapped on the slate. "You're far too valuable for that."

"Then what? It's not as if I'm part of some counter-organization, nor do I have any political pull whatsoever." He sat back as much as his cuffs would allow, stuck to the table as they were. "What could you possibly gain by bringing be back to home base alive, rather than putting a blaster bolt in my head? Especially given whom you sent to do it."

"You're correct about both of those." Sonna tapped once more on her slate before putting the stylus back down. "As for what we could gain...complete security for Etrides."

"Still on about that?"

The woman sighed, rubbing the tattoo around her eye. "You don't get it." She said. "People like you...these 'planes walkers', as you call yourself, can come and go as they please. You certainly do."

"You've been keeping tabs on my 'walks?"

"You're the reason we can detect when someone leaves or enters our universe." Sonna re-knit her fingers and narrowed her eyes. "If you hadn't joined our ranks, the world of planes walkers would still be unknown to us. Thank you, Zachar."

"Just get to your damned point."

"Etrides needs to be protected, Zachar." Sonna said. "And as none of the Inquisitorium leaders are planeswalkers themselves, you are unique."

Zachar felt ice starting to trickle down his back. "I am not going to go and hunt down other Planeswalkers for you. Not in a million years; the moment you send me on a mission will be the last time you see me."

"I find it hard to believe that you would abandon your colleagues so easily."

"They aren't colleagues. They're friends. I'm sure you've encountered the concept before."

Sonna hummed in her throat. "You'd be back."

"Right at the foot of your boss with a blaster aimed at their head."

"That's rather hamfisted, don't you think?"

"If it gets the job done."

Sonna was silent for a moment. Then she let out a breath and steepled her fingers in front of her. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but you won't be taking your old job." She said. "As good as you were at it. No, you're getting a...promotion, of sorts."

Zachar's brow furrowed. The ice running down his spine got colder. "What sort of 'promotion'? Have you managed to get another Planeswalker on your payroll?"

"No, sadly." She blinked slowly. "But, we only need one of you, anyway. I'm sure you're familiar with the Hive."

It felt like the cold sweat along his spine flash-froze to liquid nitrogen, it went so cold. "You...what?"

Sonna's eyebrow raised. "I see you've grasped what's going to happen to you. Good." Her voice was mild, as if they were discussing preferences for coffee. "Then I don't need to explain anything to you."

"No. You don't." A pause. Then, "Why?"

"Like I said before; the protection of Etrides." Sonna replied, her voice still even. "People like you, these planeswalkers, can't be allowed to come and go whenever they please. How are we supposed to know they aren't here for some nefarious purpose? The mere presence of planeswalkers is potentially destabilizing. If we don't find a way to put some sort of barrier around Etrides, or at least a shield against these beings, one of them could toss the entire galaxy into chaos. Not ot mention what sort of chaos could spread across the entire universe..."

Zachar's nails dug into his palms. "You can't assume every Planeswalker out there is an enemy. Most of them don't even know Etrides exists, let alone give a flying crap about our planar politics."

"But some of them could be enemies." Sonna paused. "Orders are orders, and better safe than sorry, right? And with your knowledge and abilities added to the Hive, we'll be able to track and react to any entries and exits to Etrides even better and faster than before. If we can capture any planes walker who comes here, then we won't need a shield to keep them out."

"If you start kidnapping random Planeswalkers who happen to take a wrong turn, you'll end up with their friends at your doorstep. Their very mad friends."

"From the sounds of it, you planes walkers seem to be under the impression that we 'planes bound', as you call us, can't really do much if you decide to leave."

"That's because you can't."

Sonna looked him up and down. "Really. It seems that we've done a pretty good job of it with you."

A muscle worked in Zachar's jaw. He didn't want to admit that Planeswalking took a significant amount of mana to do; he had to draw enough from both his surroundings as well as across the Blind Eternities themselves, enough to poke a hole in reality just large enough for a person to slip through...and then seal up behind him. As far as he knew, the Inquisitorium did not know that Planeswalking was magically-based.

Though he wouldn't be surprised at all if they'd managed to come to that conclusion on their own. It wasn't as if they didn't have a lot of brainpower in the Hive; he didn't know the exact number of people who made up the hive mind, but he was fairly sure it was easily at least a hundred. All of which with varying skills and of every sentient race—barring dragons—that they knew of.

Except Planeswalkers, of course. As far as Zachar knew, nobody who'd been absorbed into the Hive had an ignited Spark.

No wonder the Inquisitorium wanted him alive. The prospect of knitting the consciousness and skill set of a Planeswalker into the Inquisitorium's central body of command must have them salivating.

He certainly would.

As it was, he was surprised he wasn't trembling. Frankly, the idea of having his consciousness absorbed into a hive-mind was...terrifying.

I wish I didn't have this collar wrapped around my neck about now. I'd send a few special spells through their main computer and crash this ship into the nearest star. Sure, I'd go with it, but at least I could 'Walk away before it hit.

Something in him rebelled at the idea of sending several hundred people who likely had no idea who signed off on their paychecks to their deaths, but he reminded himself that it wasn't as if their employers would think twice about it either. More than once he'd been sent to several destroyed Inquisitorium ships to retrieve sensitive information, rather than find survivors.

Sometimes he did. Other times, either the survivors had left or another "cleaner" had been sent to finish what the crash had started.

His stomach churned at the memory. That's what you joined them to stop. He reminded himself. Along with the rest of their shady shit.

That won't be possible if I'm absorbed into a hive mind, though.

"Before your inevitable tirade starts no, you don't have a choice." Sonna said, jerking Zachar back to the present. "Don't try to fight it; it'll only cause you brain damage during the integration."

A sardonic smirk twisted the corner of Zachar's mouth. "And you wouldn't like that now, would you? A brain-damaged member of the Hive."

"What happens to one of the Hive gets passed to them all, Mister Urin." Sonna responded. "That applies as much to knowledge as it does to injury or illness. It's in not only ours, but also your own best interest not to resist."

"Sorry if I don't find your speech reassuring. The idea of my identity being subsumed into a mass of brains isn't something I'm particularly looking forward too."

"Your identity won't be subsumed. You will still exist; all of your memories and experiences will still remain. They'll simply be made part of a larger whole." Sonna tucked her stylus away into a pocket and stood. "And no, you won't be relegated to floating in a tank; you will be well cared for, I assure you." She slid her slate under her arm. "In short, you will not die, and your self will not die. Your mind will just become part of a greater consciousness."

Zachar set his jaw, flexing his hands. Sonna was stepping away from the table when he spoke again. "Why? Why tell me this? Wouldn't it just be easier just to let me sit and wonder until you plug me into your living computer?"

His oversimplification got on Sonna's nerves, he could tell by the set of her mouth. She didn't respond to the dig, however. Just to his question. "Ordinarily, you wouldn't have been told."

"Then what's different this time?"

Sonna raised an eyebrow, giving him a mild look. " You may not like it, but you were one of our best operatives."

"You mean assassins."

"Call it what you will; you were still one of our most valuable. If only because of your...unique ability." A pause. "Cal lit a kindness. One that if it were anyone else in charge of your delivery, you would not get."

"I'm touched. I'll be sure to send flowers."

Sonna rolled her eyes. "Enjoy the rest of your trip, Zachar." She said. "And let this serve as a lesson. One you join the Inquisitorium, you are owned by us. And we always have ways of retrieving our wayward possessions."

She tapped a control on the wall as she left the room. A moment later the guard returned, replacing the blindfold and deactivating the magnetic lock on the table before leading him back to his cell.

Once back and the guard gone, Zachar rubbed his wrists to get the blood flowing back into them. Well, now he knew what was happening; they wanted to plug their pet Planeswalker into their Hive, and use his knowledge to block and capture—and potentially even study—and others who stumbled across Etrides. That wasn't a prospect he was looking forward to."

On the other hand, from what he'd learned...Sonna was right, as much as it galled him to admit. There really wasn't a lot Zachar could do. At least, not while they had the collar on him, cutting off his connection to the plane's mana.

That means I won't be able to do anything until they wire me into the hive. I won't have much of a window. Whatever I do, it'll have to count, and it'll have to be fast.

"Once you join the Inquisitorium, you are owned by us."

That galled him more than the idea of becoming part of a hive-mind.

Nobody owns me. Not now, not when I was born, and certainly not anytime soon.

He set his jaw and scowled into the darkness. They want to wire me up and add my brain to their central command? Fine by me. But I'm certainly not going along peacefully with their little plan.

A plan of his own was forming in his mind; a form that would kill him, no doubt. But if turning his own brain into a weapon was his only option... I'm going to set off a mental bomb that'll take out the entire Hive. When I go down, they're coming down with me.

This is one possession you should've just let go, assholes.


I know, still no action. It's coming, I promise...just one more chapter or two, I swear *sweatdrops*