(Six)
The subject of Remy's thoughts leaned in the doorway of the Cloud Jumper's loading bay, making sure he was well out of view. Jael was observing Simone, his newest acquisition, something that had to be done with a large degree of stealth.
Jael knew he had better things to do than to tempt fate with this Siskan. Xavier still had to be dealt with. Jael had arrived back in the Arizona desert and while Xavier's exact location was still elusive, Jael was doing his best to plan for some kind of offensive. He was training his men, stockpiling weapons and gathering supplies for an extended siege. Jael did know one thing for certain - he was still determined to back up his threats. Xavier would hand over Kimble and whatever other Siskans he possessed willingly, even if Jael had destroy the world to make it happen. Xavier would pay. Meanwhile, while all these various plans were falling into place, Jael was spared a few minutes here and there to spy on Simone as best he could.
Simone remained in the cage Jael had constructed for him, he had proven to be far too violent to ever be let out. He had kept up his hysterical ferocity, going spastic anytime anyone approached the bars. The only one he remotely tolerated was Steve, the bioproducer who fed him his balls of plasma twice a day. Even then Steve was readily dismissed afterwards, no words or bonding passed between them.
Simone was a puzzle Jael was determined to solve.
Star's attempts at communicating with this strange Rogue had been in vain. Obeying her Master's wishes, she had tried again and again to get Simone to respond to her in some positive way, tempting him with food and music. It was a waste of time. He reacted more violently to her than anyone else, especially if she tried to use the Kundatesh as a bridge between them, something inexplicable. That was the greatest mystery, why the one thing that connected all of these Lushna-esk 'grams together would be the trigger for his worst of rampages. He would damage himself to the point of unconsciousness to get at her, howling and frothing until he choked on his own spit. Star was horrified.
Still, she had gone to great lengths to persuade her Master that Simone was indeed powerful in some valuable way, his shine was sparkling bright, more brilliant than her own. Jael knew about the shines, he had an alpha on his team who saw them as well and he backed up Star's claim. What was frustrating was getting Simone to reveal what that great power was.
During the times Simone was unconscious, Jael had cameras placed in and around the cell. He was hoping that if left alone long enough, Simone would relax enough to display his special talent on his own. Jael reviewed those tapes every day but so far Simone was keeping his secrets. Not that Jael didn't learn anything about him. It was increasingly clear that Simone was a Siskan who had spent long periods of time completely alone. He was happy to be left to himself and found ways to make himself happy. Though, in this regard, something odd and notable had come up. Jael had lived with Siskans a long time, he knew they could be broken and that they needed to be entertained, that their appetite for sex was enormous. Such horny little bastards, each and every one. If a Siskan didn't work with clients within a certain period of time, they made do with themselves.
Simone did not.
These past few days, longer than most Siskans could go without getting off at least once, Simone spent his time curled up in the corners of his cage, usually as far away from the door as possible. He refused all food, never eating a bite. What he was given he threw back at his captors as if in spite, cackling prideful, arrogant laughter at his mess. He accepted no clothes, acting as though he did not even understand what they were for. He shredded up what was offered and played with the rags, tossing them about and later making a nest out of them, curing up in them to sleep. Simone entertained himself. He sometimes rocked himself in the corner, his arms wrapped around his large black shoulders while crooning some sort of gravelly nonsense noise to break the silence. He did not, however, touch himself once. No jerking off, no humping the floor, nothing. Jael didn't get it.
Back in the loading bay, Simone laughed softly, shuffling in his cage.
Jael broke away from his thoughts and leaned in deeper for a better look. Simone was sitting on the floor, his back to the door. A moth had somehow drifted in from the outside and was now fluttering about the cage. Simone was captivated by his tiny visitor, his silver eyes tracked it with exquisite precision. He lunged at the moth suddenly, coming up on his knees while being ever so careful not to crush it, and cupped the fragile creature in a cage of his ebony hands.
He moves fast, Jael thought to himself, impressed. The movements had been swift and tightly controlled, not the thing a feral junky 'gram would make.
Simone sat back down and brought his cupped hands to his lips. He grumbled something inside them, words so badly mangled, Jael didn't have a prayer of making them out. He didn't even know if it had been Siskan or not. This Rogue's voice had a deep guttural quality to it, like someone who had been shouting for far too long, and the sounds were lost, mere grunts for all Jael knew. Simone next opened his hands slowly, revealing the calm and placid moth simply sitting there, unharmed yet charmed somehow into staying still long enough to be properly observed by a strange yet curious Siskan. Simone laughed again, pleased with himself, his own wings twitching with excitement.
Jael scowled. Was this some kind of power? An ability to control insects? That was stupid and of no value. Of course it could be empathy, he thought in consolation. That simply confirmed Simone's Lushna-esk status, not that he was any more or less powerful than any of his other acquisitions.
Simone was a Rogue! He should be so much more than this! He had wings yet made no attempts to fly, he simply flapped them about when he attacked the bars, making a great wind and noise to intimidate, but not to actually take off. He should be making shields and swords or spreading the sparkling Morrowhiem everywhere. He didn't even try to heal himself when he was damaged, he would lay in a heap, gasping for air until Steve came and charged him back up again.
Jael really didn't have time to wait around for Simone to reveal himself, he was under a great deal of pressure. Just moments ago, he and Razel had exchanged some heated words, the teleporter was concerned that Jael was delaying far too long in his search for Xavier's exact location. Surely they now had the means to lure the X-men out of hiding. Jael was taking his time to be sure, but he had his reasons.
Jael had the Cloud Jumper in position here at Arizona and had ordered two of his three other ships - The Mayfair and The Hellion - off to war. One was headed towards the Xavier Mansion in Westchester, the other towards Xavier's secondary but no less valuable Massachusetts site in Boston. Jael had a little surprise in store for the little X-men.
Both ships carried his best alphas and perhaps that was Razel's real concern. Razel knew that sooner or later all three vessels would end up here together again. The larger the group, the harder Razel would have to compete for Jael's attention amongst all these men that had gathered. If Jael would just get on with this, they could have the X-men taken care of on their own, with no need for the rest of the crew.
Jael chuckled softly to himself. Razel had nothing to fear, there was no one else he trusted more and - except for some kind of blatant mutiny or treason of course - Razel would never be replaced as his Second in Command. Jael knew he would need the skills of all of his crew to pull this off, the main reason he was consolidating his forces. He wasn't about to let Razel's insecurities get in the way of his plans. Better to go for the overkill than come up short. He would destroy as many of Charles' resources away from here to punish the man and force him to surrender Kimble. Jael knew there was no way Xavier could clean out so many sites completely, some things would be left behind for him to steal or kill to make his point. Any losses would weaken Xavier and a little intimidation was always helpful. Afterwards, Jael would bring all of his ships here. He would send out some spies to try and pin down exactly where the X-men were and try to get a better view of theirs weaknesses and strengths, something he should have done in Westchester long ago, but had always been too impatient to set up properly.
Razel saw the reasoning in his Master's plans, he just argued that any delay was going to give Xavier's people time to grow as well. It was no secret that new recruits were pouring in every day and Razel wasn't confident that attacking any of the Xavier satellite sites would stop this.
Jael could care less. Those recruits were more starving refugees than real fighters. What threat were they against his well seasoned crew? An army needed to be trained and his own had earned their stripes in the trenches of this world, spreading such fine unrest in the streets of the great United States. Jael's gangs of mutant thugs had been largely responsible for most of the anti-mutant sentiments fueling the war ongoing right outside Xavier's door.
Jael was going to win, he would do whatever it took to see this done. Everything he had worked for depended on it.
(break)
Remy spent the morning getting through his chores as quickly as possible. He wanted to get back to Aiden's diary right away. He had read only half of what Seth had sent the first time and the young Siskan had sent him even more files just after he had woken up.
Remy's first order of the day was to make his checks on all of his charges. Kimble had passed the night quietly and had used his morning furlough to head right back to Aiden's. They had gone up to sun together, but only for a few minutes. They had wasted no time in returning to Aiden's tiny apartment, no doubt for another round of play. Remy had found Kimble back in the Lab, only moments after his return from Aiden's apartment, his eyes heavy from Kundatesh and his grin wide and happy. Kimble promised that he would spend the evening with his daughter, eating at Remy's as usual. Gambit left it alone, satisfied for the moment that Kimble was recovering.
Gambit peeked into the Lab where Seth worked and saw the young pilot still tip tapping away at his computer. Seth had been given permission to build his new craft, but it wasn't scheduled to start for a couple more days. They were waiting on the last of the building materials. For now Seth was killing time, working on Aiden's book and Remy wasn't about to interrupt him. Kimble and even Aiden had been given permission to work on the Dragon site, someone finally seeing reason in keeping all of the Siskans in one place where they could be watched. Logan himself was in charge of the security there and was already forming his teams, getting the area ready for the construction.
Remy went next to Aiden's, he was still responsible for charging Babette's power cubes. He found the place cleaner than ususal, Kimble's handiwork, probably. Aiden was drunk but in a decent mood. Kimble had just left and the Dreamer was all smiles. He made pleasant small talk, making no attempts to pester Remy or complain. He didn't mention his diary though he knew it had been passed on to others. Gambit said nothing, wanting to finish the text before asking Aiden about any of it. He accepted Aiden's peaceful chatter and went about his business.
Babette was in better spirits, too, Remy could see. As bizarre as the situation was, Gambit couldn't really complain. It seemed her brothers had come up with a better cure for her depression than anyone else here. She was sitting on the couch, happily playing something on a Playstation2 Remy had provided earlier. Her shine was bluer than it had been though some small corner of grey remained, something that would probably stay with her always. She had suffered too great a loss to fully recover. Remy charged her cubes, gave her a kiss and left, eager to get back to Aiden's book.
He returned to his own apartment and wasted no time in getting back to where he had left off. The Dreamer was talking about Siskan life, something Remy desperately wanted to know more about. This next file was dated two days after the first, the first day Aiden had been moved into the apartment.
The blue Mark of the Receiver was ours and our Shemusk well over as I enter the next phase of my tale.
Talalanay spent a long time with Quishnalay, learning the ways of the Kundatesh, but even now I don't remember all of our kin, we didn't mingle long. I did get to know my brother Mishnar some and we fought from day one. He was cruel even then, his teasing meant to hurt and injure me. Knowing now that he was broken at that time doesn't stop the sting. I don't remember Babette, though I am certain she was there. We are all brothers and sisters and I will forever think of us that way. Most of us were sold off quickly to private buyers, but Talalanay, my first self, was allowed to remain. His memories are my memories because he was first.
What can I say about Mishnar? My memory of him is not pleasant, but it is important. Mishnar was a Rogue, something we - the collective parts of Talalanay - were to learn more about later. He wasn't the first Rogue Talalanay met though. No, you were. Kimble.
Again Remy was forced to pause. How was this possible? Aiden never gave him any sign that he had known of Kimble from the beginning. Even at Trishnar's he'd said nothing, nor had he shown any sign of that here. It did explain some of Aiden's eagerness to know Kimble well.
Secrets are troublesome things, they breed distrust. No one knew this better than this thief, they had gotten him into trouble all his life. He was resentful at first of what Aiden had withheld, but now he realized the Dreamer had not intended to withhold forever. This book had been generated to be shared with Kimble when the Dreamer felt the time had come. Remy knew Kimble well enough to know that the pilot would have passed this along to him in time.
Talalanay had always been precocious and inquisitive, a trait we both share, he and I. I won't say it hasn't gotten me into trouble more than once because I'm sure you'd recognize that as an outright lie. Quishnalay's home was quite large and had many doors through which Talalanay was not allowed. It didn't keep Talalanay from trying.
One day Talalanay followed the Master, playing his secret game, and saw the man disappear through a new door, one hidden in the Master's great office. Talalanay saw how this secret door was operated and of course could not resist. Once he thought enough time had passed, he tried the door himself and found that it would open for him as well. He was too nervous to go through it at first, but more curious than any cat counting on its nine lives, the thought of it preyed on poor Talalanay's mind. Finally giving in to temptation, he followed his Master once again, this time not stopping at the threshold.
The secret door opened onto a long hallway with a great many doors, too great a temptation for this would be cat to resist.
Through the door Talalanay went, moving as quietly as he could manage. He tried the doors along the hallway as he passed, but they were all locked. Well, all except the very last and this one not quite latched and left slightly ajar. Talalanay crept through, smiling as he found himself in a room filled with toys. Brilliant colors from numerous paintings filled his eyes and bright open windows let in streaming light. Large cabinets filled with bright clothes were open, inviting a game of dress up, something all Siskans enjoyed. This room had clearly been made to entertain curious and playful Courtesans.
There was another door to the back leading to yet another location, but Talalanay wasn't focusing on that, he was looking at the room's single occupant. In the middle of his strange and wonderful room, surrounded by stuffed animals, sat a young girl.
Talalanay took a step forward, breathless, and came face to face with a pair of eyes as blue as his own.
"Good morrow," she greeted, her eyes merry and happy to see him.
Talalanay jumped back in surprise, but how could he be afraid? He saw before him a girl as young as he was himself, but one look at her told him she was a Courtesan, too. She was beautiful with her big blue eyes sparkling and long lovely raven hair down to her waist. Her shine was a deep rippling blue, brighter than any other 'gram Talalanay had seen before. She wore a soft leather dress, laced at the front, Court style and lovely, a perfect compliment to the innocent beauty before him. Her neck was collared with a tag as was his own, marking her as a Courtesan of Quishnalay's making. She was looking at him with such bright and playful curiosity that Talalanay found himself stammering in return, "G-good morrow."
"M name's Kimble. What's yers?" she asked, her face eager. In a room full of toys and Siskan treasures, this girl was more enthralled by his company than anything else here. She was lonely and sad in a way he had never seen before.
"Talalanay. How come you talk so funny?" It was true that Talalanay had never heard such a strange accent, it wasn't like Sharek's. More than that, he was compelled to keep her interest, her shine was growing ever more blue by the second. She wanted him there.
Kimble laughed, but there was a look of such sadness in her eyes. "Cuz I'm special. Look, I gots the Purple."
Talalanay didn't understand, but then she stood up and loosened the leather strings of her dress, opening the front for him to see. Blazing across her tiny little torso was a bright purple Mark, the first one of its like Talalanay had ever seen. He had his own Mark, but not so bright and certainly not that color. He'd known of the four colors - the blue, the red, the green, and the brown - and thought that was all there was. Now he was confronted with something special and new. Just the fact that she had a Mark the same as he did meant they were somehow connected. He couldn't help but reach out to touch it. "It's so pretty."
"Ain't you gots one, too?"
"Yeah, but mine's Blue," he replied, opening his own shirt to display his Mark.
Kimble laughed, a bright tinkling sound that sent shivers of happiness right through him. "Well, what do ya knows about that? Yer likes me. What's yer title?"
"Receiver, but I don't know what it means. What's yours?"
"Facilitator, but I don't have one clue what it means either."
Remy stopped here, unable to suppress a shiver at reading Kimble's catchphrase. Well, what do ya knows about that? It was Kimble's favorite expression of discovery, and one he hadn't heard in some time. Really, what was there left for Kimble to discover when he spent so much time confined? Remy was discovering, though. At last, he had Kimble's Title. Somehow knowing it wasn't all that helpful. Facilitator? What did that mean?
Talalanay couldn't help himself but like this strange new friend. He smiled at her. "Why are you back here by yourself? Can you come out and play with the rest of us?"
Kimble looked at him sadly. "The Master don't ever lets us out."
"Us? Is there more of you back here?"
"Yeah, there's six of us. Well, there useta be. Don' really knows why, but Simone is gone. He wuz so small and scared alla the time. Maybe he's somewhere's better than here."
"You don't like it here? The Master is nice to us."
Kimble smiled her strange sad smile. "I likes it that he's nice to ya. Yer nice."
Talalanay stood in wonder as she came forward then and lightly brushed her lips with his own. It was the most perfect kiss Talalanay had ever had.
You must believe me Kimble, that I did not immediately recognize your name when Remy first spoke of you to my Master. You have to understand, I am eighty years old or more. These first memories were buried under so many troublesome and ugly things. It has taken more of an effort than you could know for me to dig them out. It wasn't until Remy sent me a photograph of you that I fully realized who you were. That picture spoke to me, whispering, "Don't you remember me?"
Destiny is a hard thing to escape. If you had asked Talalanay if he believed that he'd just met the one he would love forever, he would not have believed it. But me? The Dreamer? I know just about everything long before it ever happens. How could I not believe it? From the moment I saw your face reflected back to me from that photograph, your purple Mark blazing, I knew we were destined to meet again. I just don't know exactly how it's all going to come about, of what will come from our union, but I know this for a fact, you will be mine. Even now I shake in anticipation. The dreams of you are the only ones that don't scare me half to death.
Remy paused again, smiling. All this talk of destiny made him realize that the shy little Dreamer was just as melodramatic as any of his kin. He was also a romantic, it seemed. Remy knew many things, but could one kiss have made such a lasting impact on a life as turbulent as Aiden's had been? The Dreamer seemed to think so. Whatever the case, it pleased Remy to read it. These simple words gave him such hope for him and Kimble, he could only pray their reconciliation would last. Still smiling, Remy continued to read.
Talalanay could not forget that first kiss. It had burned a bright hot place into his - our - soul and would never leave us.
"Come sees me again," Kimble asked, her eyes wet with happy tears. "Please!"
Talalanay could sense her happiness, but also her deep loneliness. "All right."
There was thumping noise beyond the rear door and Kimble's eyes widened in alarm. "The Master's comin'! If he sees ya, he'll punish me again!"
Talalanay hesitated. He was confident that with his own good standing in Quishnalay's eyes that he had nothing to fear, but there was pure terror in Kimble's shine. It disturbed Talalanay to see it, knowing that somehow Quishnalay was the cause of it. He didn't know why Kimble feared the Master so, but didn't want to add to her distress by staying.
Talalanay fled, going back the way he had come, making sure to leave no trace of himself behind. He was successful and when he saw his Master later, Quishnalay didn't question him at all about it. Talalanay was determined to keep his promise, he would sneak back in to see Kimble again. Perhaps later he would get her to tell him why she should fear Quishnalay so.
It was a while before he succeeded and when he did, he was in for an unpleasant surprise.
Talalanay snuck inside that secret chamber, dismayed when he found it empty. He rediscovered the rear door and tried it. It was unlocked and he went through, holding his breath for fear of being caught. The door led into a whole other apartment he hadn't been aware existed. It wasn't so nice as Kimble's room or his own, it was more like a workshop. There were no lavish furnishings or large playrooms. There were no Love Rooms here, no clients waiting to be served. As he moved deeper in, he heard screaming, sounds of someone in pain. He wasn't sure who it was, but just the fact that he'd seen Kimble alone back here made him instantly afraid that it was her.
Spurred on by a hero's need to save her, Talalanay grew bolder, going farther and deeper into the apartment, and soon getting lost as he traveled through door after door. The sounds of pain had devolved into pitiful weeping, they were growing weaker. The sound of it and the vibrations of misery were strong here in this new place, causing him great pain. Still, Talalanay kept moving, he had to free his new friend from whatever torment she was being forced to bear.
He went a few paces more but was suddenly halted by the presence of another child, this one a stranger. "Good morrow," Talalanay greeted, his voice shaking with fear.
The newcomer stood there fearlessly, obviously used to these sounds and vibrations and not the least bit disturbed by them. He had come out of a dusty corner, unseen by Talalanay who had been preoccupied by looking for someone else. This child was as small as Kimble had been, dressed in the skin of a six year old boy. He wore a collar about his neck as Kimble had, but the name was obscured and Talalanay couldn't make it out. His hair was red and rumpled, and his eyes were all bloodshot whites and brown. He wore only a torn pair of leather pants and a bright yellow Mark blazed across his torso. He was scuffed and dirty, looking like he had rolled around in the dirt.
"Who is it, Mishnar? What does it wants?" the boy questioned to no one there, his bloodshot tawny eyes looking Talalanay over with disgust as if he was a piece of garbage. His voice was as broken as Kimble's had been, but instead of sadness in his face there was only madness and insanity.
"It's a sneaker. It breaks in where it's not wanted!" he replied to himself, the voice changing enough to be someone else's. It was low and deep, scratchy from screaming. The boy's eyes had changed as well, becoming savage and cruel. "Let's kills it, Flaylee! Kills it and eats it!"
At first Talalanay thought that this might be some kind of game. He loved games as did all 'grams, and perhaps this was just a trick. It was only when the boy launched himself at him, his shine swirling with evil intent, that Talalanay realized to his horror that this child in front of him was hopelessly mad and broken in some terrible way. It was something he would become all too familiar with himself, but that was years away. He had no defense or understanding of this now. Talalanay turned and fled with a shriek, his earlier bravado forgotten.
Mishnar/ Flaylee gave chase, cackling madly as he followed, creating quite a ruckus and breaking things as he pursued his prey. Talalanay was hopelessly lost, he'd gone too far inside this new area to recall the exit. He scrambled and crashed into things, blinded by his terror.
Moments later Quishnalay appeared, alerted by their racket. His face was flushed with anger at being interrupted from whatever it was he'd been doing. His skin was hot and he smelled oddly, reeking of melted plastic and burnt things. Quishnalay snarled curses as he grabbed Mishnar away from Talalanay and held him easily by the hair and one scrawny arm. "Mishnar! Who let you out!" Quishnalay howled in anger, ripping him away from Talalanay with ease.
Long ago, Talalanay had speculated that Quishnalay gave them the skins of children to better identify them. He saw now that that choice had been all about control. It was nothing for the Master to grasp Mishnar and subdue him. Quishnalay twisted Mishnar with a cruel yank and smashed one mighty fist into the boy's face, the first sign of violence toward a Courtesan that Talalanay had ever seen.
Mishnar howled in pain, collapsing as a stream of different voices poured out of him in a jumbled mess. Gel blood poured from his face in a gush, grey and terrifying. He broke down into deep guttural sobs, his shine all pain and injury now as he lay in a tortured heap.
The violence he witnessed was more than Talalanay could take. Never in his life had he seen such action taken against another like himself. He fainted, overcome by horror. Darkness took him and he saw no more.
To be continued in Ambuscade.
