Posted 2024-06-09; beta'd by Eeyorefan12

Bella paused in the hallway, listening for footsteps, assuring herself the dim corridor was still empty.

Clad in Alice's warm coat, she clutched her pillowcase to her, making sure the materials inside didn't knock together as she moved forward. She ducked into a shadowed alcove, listening again. The only voices were distant and low. Most of the building's inhabitants were asleep—she hoped—as she finally reached her destination.

Pulling out the sticks she'd collected from the courtyard, Bella set them beside the metal grate, grunting as she lifted it corner by corner, setting it on top of the sticks and rolling it quietly open. The gap was just big enough for her to lower herself through and down to the subfloor and its opening.

The drop to the next level was farther than she'd anticipated, and she winced as she rolled her left ankle. After a moment's rest, she peered through the dirty glass. No one passed by, but with her angle, she couldn't see more than a few feet on either side. The next drop would be a blind gamble. She tested her ankle with a quick rotation. Sore but serviceable.

The window opened with a creak. She waited. Nothing.

Her arms were already fatigued as she climbed onto the windowsill and lowered herself through the opening. Her grip slipped and again she landed hard, this time on her side. She cradled her stomach with both hands and there was a wave of dizziness. Breathlessly, she waited, almost sobbing with relief as she felt her child squirm inside her. When she forced herself to look around, the empty hallway spun.

Leveraging herself upwards against the wall, she stumbled to the left, meeting a dead-end. Turning, she had to pause, the dizziness overwhelming her. When it cleared, she kept her hand on the wall, maneuvering awkwardly towards what she hoped were the stables. She hadn't heard Demia yet but she had on other evenings. Surely, she'd be nearby?

Two turns and an empty hallway later, Bella heard footsteps. Backtracking, she pressed herself against a locked door, her heart pounding. If anyone turned down the corridor, they'd see her. The footsteps had an echo—at least two men then, that or her hearing had gone the way of her balance. A deep voice murmured and someone else laughed.

The two voices grew in volume, matching the increase in Bella's heart rate. Closer. Louder. Another laugh. Then they faded, the voices receding with their steps as they passed by the hall she'd hidden in.

She exhaled slowly. She needed to get out now.

Cradling the pillowcase and her stomach, she inched stealthily forward.

At a small window, Bella paused, frowning. She wasn't on the first floor but in the basement. No wonder the drops had felt so large. Quickly scanning the scene, she spotted the stable.

She dashed past the window, not wanting to risk being seen from outside. Her determination rose as she moved down the corridor, more dead-ends requiring zigzagging. With its uniform hallways and doors, it would be easy for the place to become labyrinthine. It was a woman's cry—or rather, the sound of the cry—that made her stop.

It came again, and on its heels, the sound of a man clearing his throat.

Bella bolted for the nearest sheltering corridor. The windowed doors off it were flush with the hall, offering no cover. She tried the handles until one turned, revealing a narrow room, a barred window, and a familiar metal frame. Closing the door as quietly as possible, she slid down and sat against the wall, hoping she was out of sight. The square of light from the hallway fell inches from her feet.

Reflected in the window glass, she watched the door across the hall open, a guard stepping inside. The woman on the frame looked up.

Yeta?

The guard didn't bother to close the door.

Watching the too-clear reflection in the glass, Bella felt her mouth open and close as she shut her eyes; it wasn't soon enough to avoid seeing what was happening and what she was powerless to stop. She knew the reason for Yeta's cry now, why the woman's neck was peppered with bite marks, and the full purpose of the matching metal structure in the room where Bella hid.

She couldn't block out what she was hearing, nor did she dare move from her hiding place. As the sounds of Yeta's distress rose, Bella's body protested her sense of helplessness by eradicating her senses, first with the loss of balance, then with nausea, and finally, with the absence of consciousness.

— o — 0 — o —

When she woke, she was still in the dark little cell. The sounds from across the hall had stopped. Bella was still nauseated and dizzy, but her resolve to escape was undiminished. She crawled to the door, pulling herself up, peeking out the window and right into the eyes of a guard outside the room.

She gasped, stepping back as he moved forward, yanking the door open and grabbing her arm.

As she tried to pull away, another bout of dizziness made the guard's face and the stone walls spin into a kaleidoscope. She knew she briefly fought him, but she could barely keep track of what her hands and feet were doing. The spinning slowed, paused, and allowed her to see the ceiling bob to the rhythm of the guard's steps, only to feel him turn again, picking up speed and twirling again the other way so that Bella squeezed her eyes shut.

The guard called to someone else. She tried to comprehend the words and the reply, but the sound shrunk, echoing voices closing to a pinpoint of silence.

— o — 0 — o —

The next days had an eerie parallelism to her first ones on Sabellia, with flickers of consciousness broken by awareness and sound, but there were no female voices. The men who tended her were utilitarian, and each time she surfaced, another layer of her captivity became clear, first in the heavy metal door, then the soft restraints on her hands and ankles, and finally, the ever-present soldier standing in the room.

The restraints were unnecessary. The dead weight of the invisible blanket kept her pinned to the bed.

The drop.

She thought of Yeta in the basement. Was that to be her fate once her own child was born?

The lead blanket felt even heavier.

Does it matter?

She couldn't even summon the energy to cradle her stomach and the little life within. It was too painful. They'd take her baby. To where and for what, she didn't know.

She didn't want to know.

Edward wasn't coming. She knew that now. He'd have rescued her already if he could—if he was able. There was only reason he had not and it meant that Zuar had lied to her; Edward was gone. It was more than she could think of in that moment.

The blanket's dullness was a refuge of sorts.

She didn't react when she heard familiar voices in the room.

"But the infant is well enough?"

Mr. Othonos. There was a flicker of anger at the recognition.

"They're both well enough for now, but mate sickness is progressive." The sherooz sounded sympathetic enough. "There are no guarantees."

"Then treat her. There's too much in what she carries to risk it for the sake of scruples."

Bella turned to face them, her leaden gaze finding the sherooz's troubled one.

"I'll return on my way back south." Mr. Othonos didn't so much as glance her way as he said it. "She should be shed by then."

The sherooz didn't meet Mr. Othonos's gaze, but Bella found a scrap of energy, using it to glare at the traitorous man as he left.

Why? she wanted to ask, but the weight was too much, and there was no point, really. The supposed champion of her kind had left her in Kolash—in hell. His reasons were immaterial.

She closed her eyes and slept.

— o — 0 — o —

Her sense of time evaporated. Her confinement could have been days or weeks. All she knew was that time passed and that she was cold. Even smothered in warm blankets, she shivered and trembled. The mother's tea they constantly supplied her with did little to alleviate the stone room's winter chill.

She tried not to think too much. When the lead blanket lightened, it made room for grief, despair, and other unnamed things she couldn't stand to feel. She watched her breath escape in clouds, imagining it was night, knowing it was cold.

The door unlocked, and she heard the sherooz. "It's too cold for her here," he said to the guard with him. "I'd like to move you somewhere warmer, Miss Swan, but the guards need to hear that you won't try to escape."

Belal couldn't feel her toes. If she'd had the energy to, she would have laughed at the idea of escape. She nodded.

The guard carried her to the sherooz's office, where a small pile of embers glowed in the fireplace. It was warm.

She sat on the small settee, cradling a hot cup of liquid and wondering, not for the first time, if the depression she felt was the same as Kira's—and if she, Bella, was weak for surrendering to it.

"Your drop has been quite severe, Mrs. Cullen," the sherooz said quietly.

Briefly, she summoned the energy to look at him.

"It can be especially bad for humans, particularly with a first pregnancy. I don't imagine the circumstances have helped much." He gave a wan smile, looking around the room.

She didn't respond, turning her head away and staring at the fire.

For a few moments, he left her alone, making notes at his desk. When she was next aware of him, he was sitting beside her. "May I listen to the baby?"

Another nod. Speaking required too much energy. At least she could feel her toes again.

He listened to the baby, then checked Bella's blood pressure, listening to her heart, frowning grimly. "You're very close to delivery."

There was a painful stab inside. It took Bella a moment to understand it wasn't physical. No, it was . . . anguish.

"Your mate sickness hasn't abated."

She shook her head, belatedly realizing her response wasn't required—he was stating facts. She sipped at the tea. It was sweeter than usual.

"Without treatment, the outcomes are poor. Especially for human women."

"No." Her voice was hoarse.

"I understand your wishes." The sherooz looked down briefly. "But I think you should understand the risks."

Bella said nothing as he continued his monologue. "The labor will be prolonged, which leads to strain on the mother—a strain human women don't endure easily. The condition is similar to pre-eclampsia. Perhaps you've heard of it?"

She had. But how had he?

"Prolonged postpartum bleeding is the first sign, after which headaches and then convulsions develop. There is no cure at that point, and the survival rates are low—twenty percent at best, from what we can tell from historical records. Those are significant risks for you."

"They'll take my child," she croaked.

The only part of Edward she had left.

"They will."

She stared at him. "Then what's the point?"

There was real distress on his face. "You. You are the point."

"I saw Yeta," she whispered. "They won't let me go." The lead blanket settled again.

He looked down, clearly avoiding the implied question. "Do you know why the other women are here?"

She shook her head, feeling like she was sinking again.

"The breeding program is simple. The female participants are recruited . . . selected for their genetic capacity. They're all mostly Sabellian but with certain dominant human characteristics. The males are as pure-blooded as can be found." He shook his head. "I know. Ridiculous, isn't it? The children will be almost entirely Sabellian, as close to purebred as one can be"—he snorted—"and therefore, very strong. They'll make excellent soldiers or future breeders of soldiers. But you—you are special. You are the first concrete step towards eradicating the source of the prejudice that has plagued us since we first stepped off world."

Us?

The sinking feeling stopped. Had she heard him correctly?

"Ironically, it was your husband who made it possible." He leaned back against the settee. "Not that he knew. I smelled him on you. I was somewhat desperate by that point. When we travel by refraction, we only know roughly when we will leave and from where. And of course, ours was not an authorized transport, just one that was scheduled to take advantage of the window that was opening for your husband. I could hardly believe my good fortune when you crossed my path that day. You had probably just left him."

There was a flare of energy as she listened, yanking her to the surface, every word from his mouth further confirming the suspicion she'd ignored until now.

"I'd thought we'd leave months earlier," the sherooz went on. "The other candidates I'd seeded were too far gone for travel—or for anything, really. You were a guess as to timing—and my last vial. Finding the lab space, and then pure humans—"

"You . . . you raped me?" Her voice trembled.

"Rape?" He scoffed. "Of course not. Our process is much more advanced than that. It was an injection."

An injection. She hadn't been raped. She waited for some emotion to surface after this revelation, not sure what she was expecting. Relief?

There was none. She'd been experimented on without consent.

And the sherooz was a part of it all.

"Why?"

His bark of a laugh was humorless. "Surely you've been here long enough to guess? Simply by looking at me?"

Warily, Bella did.

"I am almost entirely Sabellian. I'm educated and hard working. I've given years of my life to the service of my kind, but the unfortunate percentage of human genetics in me"—he flexed his hands, drawing her attention to his subtle claws—"the appearance is enough to relegate me and those like me to the edges of society." He met her gaze. "Prejudices are powerful. But with you and your child, we'll have proof that our method can work to completely eradicate foreign genetics. The successful seeding and then conception was the start of it, but your continued intimacy with your mate throughout the pregnancy has assured that your child will be purely Sabellian. And you will be primed to carry another to prove it."

Cooly, she considered his betrayal—and error. "We. You and . . .?"

"You saw Mr. Othonos."

She nodded.

"There are many who wish to eradicate this prejudice, Mrs. Cullen."

By abducting people and using them for experiments. How utterly noble. The women in this facility may have been 'recruited', but the humans and other off-worlders stolen from their homes certainly had not been given a choice—herself included. She nodded, doing her best to offer a sympathetic smile to keep him talking. "I understand."

He exhaled. "The progress has come at no small cost to you, and for that, I'm sorry. Truly. We don't know how the Pisma became aware of our unscheduled transport and then took you from us, but"—he sighed—"thankfully, it worked out well in the end."

Had it? Not for the alien women who had died before rescue. And the human women he'd mentioned so casually earlier were no doubt dead by now as well, left seeded on earth where no one would have understood the cause of their illness. Her hands, warm around the cup, went icy cold.

"You knew," Bella said accusingly. "You knew I had been seeded, yet you did nothing—said nothing."

"I didn't know—not until the day they brought you to have the placia removed. Only then did I learn my last attempt had been successful. And I did tell you what was happening to you then, you can't deny that." His tone was almost indignant.

Was he really trying to justify himself to her?

"I could have died."

Sherooz Adnios shook his head."I knew the Cullens wouldn't allow that. Your mating with Mr. Cullen was the best outcome we could have hoped for. It let us follow your progress closely. Mr. Othonos was especially pleased."

She remembered Mr. Othonos's extravagant wedding gift to her and Edward and had assumed it to be a mark of his affection for his younger protege. Instead, Edward had been made an unwitting pawn in their scheme. Bella's heart ached at the thought of him. If she was right, and Edward was truly lost to her forever, at least he'd been spared the pain of knowing how they had used his sense of duty and his affection—no, his love for her—to manipulate them both.

A brief, hopeful thought occurred to her. "I won't be able to conceive again, not without my mate—with the same . . . genetic components."

"Ah, but you will. Humankind might be ignorant on many fronts, but their manipulations of genetic material is far more advanced than ours. I learned a great deal in my time on earth. I'll be able to reproduce the results here, once my supplies arrive."

She shifted slightly in her seat, testing her ability to move. Finally awake again. A band of pressure rippled over her abdomen.

Pretending to stretch, she glanced at the window. The guard had left. They were alone, and it was dark. Maybe, just maybe, if she could get the sherooz to leave her alone briefly, she could make it to the stable. She'd been so close before. This time, she just needed to be faster.

The sherooz stood, grabbing his blood pressure cuff and snapping it over her arm. "The seeding you underwent isn't restrictive. Once you've delivered, you'll be able to accept a genetic contribution from another Sabellian male, one that will be carefully chosen."

She sipped the tea, ignoring the iciness that had spread to her face.

"Given a suitable recovery time, of course."

Suitable. She thought of Yeta.

"That is, of course, if everything goes well during delivery," he muttered, taking off the cuff and sitting down. "You've had more dizziness?"

Maybe she could ask him to leave and get something for her from her room. The band around her abdomen tightened again. "A little. I feel fine now. I think I've just been cold."

His stare made her skin crawl. She took another gulp of tea, coughing as she inhaled rather than swallowed.

When she recovered, he poured her another cup. "Is the fire helping, and the sidero tea?"

"Yes." She covered her mouth as she coughed. Sidero grass. Edward had talked about it, as had Irene. It was good for temperature regulation, that and . . . and . . . what else had they said that day?

"Good, good," he murmured. "It's important you feel well before treatment begins."

Moving her gaze to meet his felt maddeningly slow. "What?"

He looked away. "I know you don't want this, but it may be life-saving. I'm sorry, but we need to proceed very soon. The summoning—surely you've felt the early contractions starting?"

No. It couldn't be. The stable was so close. Demia. Escape.

She fumbled with the cup, which he then plucked from her hand.

"It's alright."

It definitely wasn't. The settee had begun to sway, the floor tipping back and forth like the horizon on a ship at sea.

Bella tracked the sherooz's retreating hand and the cup, also undulating in front of her.

"You'll go to sleep very soon."

Sedation. Sidero grass was a sedative. She tried to stand, her meager efforts gently resisted by the sherooz.

"We'll take every precaution. The cages are very effective at preventing damage. It won't be a stranger—I'll do it myself. I'll be very careful."

A vague nausea joined the slowly tightening circle of pressure around her abdomen. Bella focused on her route to the stable, trying to push upwards again.

"No, no. The sedative will take full effect very soon."

The tea.

She looked around the room with new eyes. The lights were off, the fire re-lit, and on the far side of the room, a tray of bandages sat beside a freshly padded metal mating bed.

"Naturally, since my DNA was included in the initial seeding, I'm a close-enough match. You won't experience any acclimation discomfort." He reached to take her hand, which her muscles refused to snatch away, and patted it gently. "This is for the best, you'll see."

The fire flickered and dimmed.

When she tried to tell him no again, her lips wouldn't move, her eyelids traitorously falling closed once, then twice—until she felt herself floating away into darkness.

"It's alright, Bella. I'm here." His hands were on her arms, her shoulders, her hair, her cheek.

Then, nothing.