Part 1 – The Black Ship

Chapter 5 – Solitary

The room was completely dark, but it was different. She was free to move around; there was no space for a table, or for four men. The room was not precisely three meters cubed: it was slightly less. She could tell because she was almost (but not quite) one meter tall, and if she spread her arms to use them like an end-over-end ruler, she could flip from her back to her front and then back again from one wall to another.

It was still cold, but she had her things back, so she could bundle her jumper about herself almost double when she curled up in a corner. There was no cot, but there was a bucket. She'd pushed it with the toe of her boot into one of the corners and tried to stay on the opposite side of the room. There were no noises or lights, but given how noise and light ended up the last time, she was fine with that.

In her corner, nearest the door (she'd found the seam for it on her third circuit about the room with her fingertips trailing the wall), she nestled her chin on her drawn-up knees. The darkness meant she didn't have to close her eyes to focus, so perhaps it was habit that forced them to fall shut. She had never clicked before.

She hoped she never did again; a big part of the problem, though, was that she only made awful things happen when she was asleep. That meant that she could easily hurt someone. If she clicked and the fire actually caught… she'd break so many things… so many people… She'd broken her own mother's ulna the last night she spent in the nursery. After that on the ship, she'd avoided sleeping until Doctor Trixie made it alright.

The churgeon had told her throughout the week what she remembered of her time on a Black Ship… and this was nothing like it. She'd said there were holds full of people, like a swarming sea of humanity that stank of unwashed bodies and poor sanitation. She'd said that when she made it into holding people were like caged wild animals; big ones, little ones… they all growled and tried to bite and steal one another's food. She'd said that they were all drugged – a stronger form of what she had administered at bed to keep the dreams away – all the time, so that they couldn't use their power to harm each other. She'd said that the very best thing someone as little as Ellie could do was keep her head down, her mouth shut, and stay away from the fights.

All in all, Ellie decided, whatever she had done during the tests, she'd caught a lucky break to have space of her own. She stood, and walked the perimeter of her black room, fingers again trailing the wall. She walked like she was trying to keep up with an adult twenty-five times in one direction, and then twenty-five in the other; it calmed her mind; she didn't count the circuits out loud. She liked the silence, the familiar, almost imperceptible hum of the ship through the floor, the taste of scrubbed air. This was a haven. She curled into the corner again, resting her head at the juncture of the walls, and stared into the darkness

Even better, she wouldn't dream. It was like the medicine Doctor Trixie had given her, only stronger. She hadn't been aware that she could feel the threat that was waiting for her to sleep when she was awake – and perhaps feel wasn't the right word, because it wasn't a physical feeling, or even a gut feeling. It was a sort of pressure just above the bridge of her nose, and it felt like her brain processed it near the place it processed smell. Sometimes it made her head throb, and sometimes it was familiar; now there was nothing there at all. This room was like her own, real bouncing ball. It kept her safe. And so, safe, her eyes drifted shut with no fear of nightmares.

When she woke, there was something pressing against her boot. Curious, she felt in the dark for it – cold, tin, flat – a tray, with a built in divot for some sort of food. Whatever it was her fingers had dipped into it as she was exploring the new acquisition. It smelled completely bland – and tasted the same.

She wasn't particularly hungry, so she moved the tray against the wall next to her. The walls were good – she could fumble about in the dark center of the room for goodness knew how long. Truth was, goodness knew how long she had been here – would be here – it was hard to keep track of time in the dark and alone. She had her thoughts for company, though.

She thought about the last book she had borrowed from the chapel, about how different her mother and Doctor Trixie had cooked, about her last math lesson, about her father stalking coldly out of their suite to answer a call from the bridge…

She thought about the other children playing catch, about handing an errant ball back to Dorn and the way he'd smiled and asked her to join them, and then the way he'd turned around in his seat to tell her a joke, and the way he'd rolled his eyes when Miss Jemedar told him to face forward.

She thought about sitting with Merica, sharing their dolls, their lunches, their secrets… She had plenty of memories to think about. She didn't want to think about the future.

After a while she fell asleep again, walked the room fifty times again, took a few mouthfulls of the nutrient-paste, thought, prayed – if this was what the journey to Holy Terra would be like, she could handle it. Just so long as she didn't have to think about what was coming, what decision those men had made, even though she had told the truth. It didn't matter what they had decided. She would serve as she could.

Some interminable time later, there was a rush of light swiftly blotted out. She stood immediately and gazed up at the man standing in the door. He was enormous – bigger than anyone she'd ever seen before, and light from the corridor glinted off his armor in black and gold. He had one glowing red augmentic eye that gazed into the room, and she focused on it because its light hurt her eyes less than the blinding brightness behind him.

Opening the door had let in new air, and it woke her near-smell; she took a deep breath. There was something there – something faint for only a moment beyond the smell of machine parts' friction, ceramite, and recycled air that couldn't quite get rid of the stench of the holds below. She wasn't sure what it was, but it reminded her of Trixie. She smiled shyly at him and murmured knowingly, "Oh… You're real."

From the glow of his red eye, she could see one of his brows lift just a bit. He stepped further into the room, turning to face her; her eyes caught insignificant details of him, lingering over the welds and joints of his armor, his bald head, the scar by his augmentic eye, the flare of his nostrils. He regarded her in silence for a very, very long moment; part of her wanted to melt into the wall to get away from him, and part of her was madly curious.

When his voice finally came, it resonated roughly in her chest with a deep, gravelly tone and no trace of an accent. He informed her dispassionately, "You will maintain your silence until I give you leave otherwise." She couldn't see his mouth moving, the shadows from the hall concealed it.

She bit her lower lip to stem the tide of questions she had.

"You," he said it quite specifically with a bit of disdain, "and your very existence are an affront to the Emperor." She knew it was the truth – of course it was. She was a monster, no matter what Doctor Trixie had said; oh, but it was a painfully shattering thing to hear. She had dared to hope. "You," his chin was held high, accusatory, "are a threat to the Empire's stability, because you do not know what power you wield, much less how to do so." But how much she wanted to learn. "You do not know the million horrors that could come to be because of you; you do not know the uncountable warp-beasts that want to rip through the scrap of your flesh; you do not know the threat you pose."

If she did, would she be safer? Then she realized: she wasn't safe enough. She knew what he would say next. She bit her lip so hard it bled to keep from crying in front of this man. "The Interrogators have judged that you should be sacrificed to the Throne." She lowered her head and nodded as she did, hoping she could blink away the moisture that had started to cling to her lashes. She wished he hadn't told her. "While this is the Council's decision, I fail to agree."

Her brows came together as she suckled the coppery blood from her lip, and finally looked up at him through a wet, swimming haze of barely unshed tears.

"I believe that there is the potential that you could serve the Throne well." If desire could be translated directly to deed, how she would. "Should you prove to be of worth," his tone did not supply if he thought she would or wouldn't, "I will provide you the opportunity to serve as few others can –" his augmentic eye gave her an appraising, if cursory, glance; she focused hard on the floor and remained completely still, afraid that even the slightest movement would change his mind, "– and no other will."

Anything for the chance… she had none here… one with him… Be of worth…

"Come here," he commanded, "and kneel as you are before me." She complied in a heartbeat, her fingers laced together as if in prayer, lip bitten, eyes downcast. She could feel his gaze boring into the top of her head, like he could see inside her. "I will be your master now; you will address me by that title alone." His heavy hand was on her unbrushed hair, like a benediction, and he lifted her face until she could view his, still partially in shadow. Her dilated pupils constricted from the brightness beyond him. One of his eyebrows lifted, like he was prompting her – like he was waiting for something.

Taking a breath, she replied obediently in her mellow timbre, "Yes, Master." This seemed to satisfy him and he straightened his form. He had given her leave – at least for that – to speak and she slipped in an earnestly sweet, "Thank you."

He regarded her inscrutably for a long moment before he turned from her and moved to the door. Pausing at the threshold, he looked back to her, raised his eyebrow, and tilted his head almost imperceptibly towards the life that waited beyond.

A Note from YourFriendlyNeighborhoodGeist:

This is the end of Part 1 (technically Chapter 1, but having all of that on one page for you folks would be overwhelming and probably incurably boring, what with scrolling and all).

If you've gotten this far and haven't reviewed yet, I'd really appreciate it if you took a quick moment to do so!

About half of Part 2 is written and/or outlined with detail notes, so more will be coming at some future time. Not trying to be a review glutton, but hearing what you have to say would seriously pump me up for working on this more!

Thanks for sticking with us,

-Geist