Jason paced the main room, shivering, barely registering the cold. He was alone; everyone else were in their cells. There were only a few left now—even of the adults. One by one they'd been dragged upstairs.
His heart ached for the ones who had been taken; they were mostly in the harem. It was worse there for the adults than the children, because they had to 'work'. At least they had some reprieve, though. The other options were even worse—become playthings for the guards, be experimented on—which meant they'd be torn apart and eventually discarded—or become an elex—"customized", trained and sold to a buyer who would abuse them in unimaginable ways. Perhaps keep them alive for as long as possible, considering how much money was paid for them.
They were training Sasha as an elex at this very moment. He felt like screaming, breaking things—but there was barely anything here, and besides, it would only hurt him which would be counterproductive.
Elena was still in critical condition, apparently, and so all the programs set in motion before she went into labor were still ongoing. They couldn't be stopped except at her orders.
Jason had had her word that she'd free Sasha. But his pleas didn't mean anything to Tamara, or the liaison, or the guards—only Elena's orders mattered. So he had to wait.
He couldn't afford to wait. Who knew what they were doing to Sasha.
None of this should be happening in the first place, and for a little girl to be taken for something so horrific… and rather than freed, stay in a hellish place because of a technicality…
A dull pain cut into his palms. His fists were clenched as he stood near the cinderblock in the center of the room, dim sunlight filtering down onto the cement. His fingernails were digging into his flesh but he ignored it.
Translucent images of Sasha dancing in the sun swirled around him; Sasha playing with her friends, pretending to be an agent, standing beside Quinn just to be there for him…
Tears sprang to his eyes. He could almost taste the food she'd given him. The cake he'd shared with her, delicious because it was for her birthday rather than what Elena had intended it to mean.
Chills spread through him at Elena's name. He couldn't look at her directly—only at the earthshaking event that partially blocked what he dreaded accepting.
It was the baby that mattered—Elliot's son, who was healthy even after the vivid slash of desperation, the anguish of waiting. Something difficult and beautiful—just the thing to curtain his view of anything beyond it. It was a new start. He could move forward. He had to.
The only thing was… he had made a deal with Elena. As much as he hoped she'd be incapacitated for a while—ultimately he had to look forward to her recovery because he needed her to free Sasha.
If only she'd been able to give her subordinates one more order before she went into the operating room… then Sasha wouldn't have to endure days of whatever torment they had in store for her. She could've been with her parents by now.
He considered paging Brianna again, but he'd done that already this morning. Elena still hadn't been up to taking calls.
Or—perhaps she was just dragging this out on purpose. Hurting Sasha just because it hurt him.
Anger seized him.
He lifted the cinderblock. As he strode toward the wall, he threw it with all his strength and it crashed into the wall, shattering in several pieces. A sharp shard nicked his bicep, stinging.
He looked down at the cement pieces with satisfaction. At least he'd been able to do something…
A deep ache wound through his right hand and regret laced through him.
I can't afford this… need to use all my energy for something productive…
He picked up the largest piece and was able to salvage it, then used his left hand to do some repetitions. He almost dropped it in frustration, though, because what use was he one-handed? He couldn't save little Danny, he couldn't save Sasha… even if he worked out as much as possible, the crushing weight of this place would pin him to the ground easily.
And bargaining, even with his body… did nothing.
He screamed and smashed the makeshift weight… didn't regret it because it wasn't the best thing to work out with anyway.
He paced the room, trying to grasp a plan… but it slipped away because there wasn't anything to hold onto.
Not eating for days didn't help… He supposed he should have eaten but he hadn't felt hungry. Determining to protect the kids… had ended in nothing. Jason had tried to get upstairs with his credits, but the elevator wouldn't open for him. He wasn't taken up for training. The guards mostly ignored him; the only contact he had with the authorities was with Brianna, and she couldn't tell him anything. There was no way to get Above, no way to even ask for anything… he was cut off from even the appearance of influence, as if he'd been forgotten. Without Elena, he was reduced to a ghost… The others trapped in their cells, he wandered this place, fading… the cold numbing him, the lack of food wasting away his flesh and bone…
They hadn't even fed him for the past two days. He had barely noticed. The others had offered to share, but he'd refused, surviving on air and desperation…
I can't keep on like this.
I have to get myself together… plan…
Escape is the only way to help them.
Eventually they'll let me Above again…
So I have to be prepared.
If I'm taken to training, get to Tamara… she's in charge when Elena isn't available.
If I'm taken to Elena—
He stopped near the bare grating over the coffin. Heat and cold raked over his skin.
Have to take advantage of my… position…
It's betraying Connie not to get close to Elena.
It's betraying her to get too close…
Enforce limits—how? Elena can take what she wants.
Can she?
What I did… was my choice…
So you did want it. You seemed pretty… eager.
It was just to save Sasha. I didn't want any of it.
So those feelings… were, what. Illusions? They seemed pretty real…
He neared the wall and felt like slamming his fist into it—but that would re-break his hand.
So? You're only good for one thing anyway…
Stop it! I didn't want to do it… Dear God—you know I didn't. I didn't see any other choice.
There's always a choice, said the echoey voice in his mind. You could've waited. Figured out a way to escape…
It might be too late for Sasha by then. Besides… considering how airtight it is here… getting close to the leader might be the only way…
It always seems to come back to that, doesn't it.
I'd never go past a certain point. I already went too far…
Pain sliced intimately through his heart when he thought of kissing Elena…the insidious slashes of—something he hadn't steeled himself from, because he didn't know he could be compromised that much…
It had taken him off-guard, because he hadn't felt any attraction for her.
But perhaps she was right, she was expert at drawing pleasure from an unwilling subject… or perhaps it was just the mechanics of it… skin against skin…
Something that should not be.
I'll avoid it if possible
Anyway… she won't be up to… anything like that for a while…
There are other ways.
It sickened him he'd resorted to it… perhaps some part of him did want it… perhaps he'd gone too far, was too damaged by Elena and Zar to pretend he still belonged to himself. That he had enough value to return to the real world. That he could ever feel Connie's touch without ripples of shame and guilt racing through him, ruining everything they had together…
I'm not that far gone yet.
But if he looked directly at what had happened, he couldn't stand it, couldn't deal with it…
To sacrifice himself was one thing, but to feel something for his enemy…
Part of him was already lost. Or could be lost.
It meant… if she did try to take him by force…. She could do it. Wring from him what only belonged to one…
It meant he might give her that much again if it seemed the only option. It might be worse if it didn't seem forced. She'd gradually subsume him…. In trying to escape, he'd just be bound tighter…
Avoiding her totally wasn't the best option.
If he could avoid touching her again… not let her touch him but get to her somehow…
She probably wouldn't be healed for a while, so he'd have time to find a way to manipulate her… Even if that wasn't his forte, it was better than just… giving himself to her one piece at a time…
Another thing he dared not look at directly was not just the feeling—which was just the basest of things, after all, didn't mean anything, or didn't have to (had nothing to do with any sort of affection or love or even respect)—was the fact that he'd longed for a way to forget… part of him had even wanted to immerse in that feeling, not resist it with all his strength…
That was a betrayal more than anything.
He sank to his knees, the grating digging into them.
Maybe Elena should be my punishment… or reward…
Too far gone… should just give her the rest of me… if it means letting the others free.
Pain shot through his jaw, his teeth clenched, chattering. He curled up on the cold cement.
If it's my fate to be a slave… might as well use it… that may be the only power I have left.
The thought shot like a lightning bolt through him… along with a longing to at least have some agency… not this endless dim grayness, fading into the numbing blankness of the cement…
Maybe there is something else I can do.
Being here makes me feel like I'm only fit to be a slave.
But now that the baby's born… I could drug Elena. Force her to do what I want.
He stood, thrills racing through him.
I'll powder the painkillers…. Give her a cocktail that'll force her to spill her secrets… get a weapon and take her hostage…
It's action that's the answer. Not this slow death.
The faint whoosh of the elevator descended, and his heart thumped hard as he heard the elevator doors open and footsteps approach.
The doors from the intake rooms opened.
"Hello, Jason." Daric walked casually up to him, Gleb and Kent trailing him closely. Daric looked down at him, his hair slightly tousled, and frowned a little. "You're getting thin, Jason. We've got to keep you from wasting away."
"You haven't given me anything to eat for two days."
"You were already refusing food. Do we have to feed you intravenously?"
Jason winced at that image; he never wanted such a thing.
"I've got something for you." Daric gestured to Gleb, who held a brown paper bag. A faint savory smell wafted up from it. He took a step forward, reaching for the bag.
Gleb yanked it away with a smug look. "Not yet."
"Come with me," said Daric.
"Long time no see," said Kent, grabbing Jason's arm.
"I can walk on my own," said Jason, pulling his arm away.
Kent grabbed his arm, tighter this time.
Resisting that much wasn't worth the energy. He let them lead him to the interrogation room.
Kent shoved him down onto the chair and the guards wrested his arms behind his back. Jason struggled—being bound shot bright shards of fear through him.
"Sit still, please," said Daric, standing beside the opposite chair. He carefully set his notepad and pencil on the table.
Gleb set the paper bag onto the table and Kent tapped Jason's shoulder with his shockrod. Jason stilled. Tension trembled through him, his heart hammering as the rope was wound tightly around his wrists and jerked tightly, then tied to the chair.
The vivid image of being tied in the cabin blazed through his mind. He braced for a slash of white-hot pain across his cheek—
He forced himself to breathe, even though his heart insisted on trying to leap out of his chest. Gradually it slowed to a manageable level.
"How will I be able to eat like this?" he asked.
"We have other things to focus on right now." Daric sat down and intently scribbled something on his notepad.
The letters looked like hieroglyphics, perhaps code of some sort.
Perhaps I should gain access to that pad…
There are things I can achieve here if I don't panic.
Daric looked at him for a few moments, as if taking inventory of how he'd changed from last time. Then he intently scribbled a dark circle on the top of the page. "You've been holding out… so we'll have to be a bit more… shall we say… insistent. Don't worry. It doesn't mean pain, per se."
"So you do prefer hurting people in some cases."
"My preference is to get the job done, in the most efficient way possible. It has to be specific to each subject. Considering how resistant to pain you've been in the past, other methods may be more effective."
Pain might not make him give in… though the jury was still out—it almost had on several occasions—but he was infinitely relieved it wasn't on the table for the moment. Though he dreaded what Daric had in mind… there were more ways than physical injury to cause pain. And who knew if Daric was telling the truth or messing with him.
For one thing… the ropes did hurt.
But he could deal with it. Force himself to ignore it… focus on the mission—
Perhaps do a covert reverse interrogation…
A thought hit him that had been only half-formed before: I could get one of the torture instruments from the walls, use it as a weapon… He hadn't fully realized this before because he normally wanted to stay as far away from torture instruments as possible.
I can't afford to be squeamish. Have to do uncomfortable things—probably the only things that'll get me out. Bias against them is a luxury not for people who are enslaved in the depths of Yavesh.
"Elena doesn't need amina—but she'd rather have something that'll make her job much easier. I'd prefer it if we give her what she wants as soon as possible."
"I'll never give her that." Déjà vu hit him—this was what he'd been keeping from Gray the first time they met. Gray wasn't in this room, but he was in this compound. And Farah was here now, too—the developer of the formula he'd tried to keep safe. Things had come full circle… and gotten even worse.
Except he wasn't yet nailed to a wall—
A sharp pang shot through the nail scars in his left hand, and he had to force himself to stay in control, not give Daric the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to him.
For one thing—if he knew how closely that hit home, he'd probably dig further into his wounds. Not that he wouldn't do that anyway…
Stay in control.
The pain in his right hand from foolishly using it earlier slammed that reminder into his heart.
Don't let them win.
Anything is better than… what he determined to not look at directly.
Cutting up my body is better than cutting up my soul.
It might come to that anyway… Gray took something from me I can never get back…
"It's in your best interests to give us the location of the formula."
"It's not in the best interests of the world."
Daric smirked. "So honorable." He sat back and slid his hand through his red hair. "I understand it's a matter of principle for you. And you've held out so long before. But you really don't need to keep being the hero. We will get what we want in the end… the only question is, in what shape will you be in by that point?"
"Elena doesn't want me to be too damaged."
"That's true, and I have to use delicate instruments to get to you. But some are… extremely uncomfortable. I don't like seeing people squirming under the knife, metaphorically speaking. But I take great pride in accomplishing what needs to be done, even if it's unpleasant for me. I'll hold out at first… but I can only wait so long. I know you're a stubborn subject. But it'd be best for the both of us if you'd just tell us what we want to know." His face was earnest, almost pleading. It seemed genuine, as if it pained him to do the 'unpleasant' tasks he was referring to.
He leaned forward again, resting one arm on the table. Jason realized that he wasn't wearing his reading glasses, and they weren't in his front pocket either. Without the glasses, his eyes were piercing, incisive, like the glint of topaz underwater. "Unlike the one who wanted amina before, we will take good care of it. In our hands, it will create a glorious future."
The cultish devotion to Elena's plan sickened him every time he encountered it. He couldn't imagine giving in enough to accept it, and they didn't know him as much as they thought if they thought he'd come around to their point of view. He'd die first… or his soul would be so broken he would be useful to no one. Unless they really did know something about him he didn't, or were really able to mold people to their whim… in any case, he couldn't give them an easier way to that goal.
"You'll use it to enslave people."
He waved a hand. "Immaterial."
"I'll fight it with everything that's in me. I would have before… and I will even more now that I've seen firsthand what slavery does to people." His throat tightened when he thought of the horrors he'd witnessed here. "I might be in your power, but you can't make me be a part of such evil."
"That's probably the trickiest part. Your morality. It's strange how much allegiance you have to it."
"It's normal for people to abhor slavery. You're the one who's twisted beyond imagining… I'll never come close to understanding someone who justifies it."
"You aren't fully privy to Elena's vision. When you are, you'll see how people must be molded, their natures controlled, to conform to the best possible future."
"A future that allows slavery—that's the opposite of a utopia. You're out of touch with reality if you think you can ever get me onboard with that."
"Breaking is a delicate business… it's true you may not turn out how we want. That's the risk and the adventure of it." His eyes gleamed.
Jason looked away, tired of this. He wished they'd just untie him and give him the food… all this was going nowhere. He doubted they could do something, short of giving him actual brain damage or turning him into a quivering wreck, that would make him come to their side, and that would defeat their purpose… so they were at an impasse.
He did want something here… he should pretend to have a conversation so he could get something out of his interrogator…
What he wanted most was to find out about Elena's condition so she could free Sasha.
"We need him in a different position," said Daric. "Don't want him to get too comfortable."
Gleb and Kent, who'd been sitting on the slab in the back, jumped off and strode over, Gleb pushing aside the chain dangling from the ceiling.
"Finally giving us something to do?" said Gleb.
"Time to take this to the next level."
"About time," said Kent. Daric frowned at him.
Kent grabbed Jason's arm and untied the ropes.
Jason took a deep breath as he brought his hands in front of him, reveling in the feeling of relative freedom. Pain cut through his wrists; his hands tingled—the blood had been nearly cut off by the ropes. Dark impressions were superimposed over the faint rope scars. He fought the urge to rub feeling back into his left hand—his right hand had to stay useless for now so it could recover as soon as possible.
The guards wrested him to his feet. His head spun; he realized he should've eaten when he'd had the chance. Now, food was sitting right in front of him, getting colder by the moment. Perhaps they would refuse to let him have it.
They pulled him further from the enticing paper bag.
Ice burst down his spine when he realized where they were taking him. Standing near the drain in the floor, the guards tied Jason's hands behind his back, then lifted them up, just to the point of pain, and tied the rope to the chain. He stood awkwardly, hunched over slightly to keep the ropes from pulling too hard on his damaged shoulder.
Daric dragged his chair over to face Jason. He tapped the pencil on his paper in a maddening rhythm.
"Now you should be in a position more… conducive to listening."
"I don't know… this is more distracting, I think."
"Being on your feet keeps you more alert."
"If it was just that, tying me wouldn't be necessary. The thin façade of civility is rubbing off. Why you waited so long I don't know."
"I wanted to give you a chance. But it's true getting to you through reason was a longshot."
"You definitely won't convince me you're the good guys this way."
"It is too bad your allegiance to your morality keeps you on the opposite side. Otherwise, we could convince you without resorting to harsh tactics. But loyalty overall is a good thing—and you wouldn't be worth pursuing if you were prone to giving in easily. You're lucky Elena wants you, both as an agent and a consort. Otherwise, she wouldn't hesitate to go all out, and by the end of the day, or week at most, you'd be broken open and spill all your secrets. I'd probably be more hands-off in such a brutal thing, although I get my hands dirty if I have to. You, however, are worth my time to vivisect, carefully dislodging secrets from one by one. Those are the challenges I live for." He gave a self-satisfied smile, looking up at Jason with detached consideration.
Jason shifted, trying to get in a less awkward position. But when he tried to stand up straight, the ropes pulled on his wrists and pain shot through his left shoulder.
Of course they weren't going to stay civil about this. But he wished they'd just get it over with… perhaps drawing it out was even more torturous. He didn't know what to expect.
And they were targeting his shoulder on purpose. They'd studied him, looked at his previous interrogations… something he hadn't wanted to acknowledge before.
They'd focus on his weaknesses. He couldn't let them set him off-balance. Somehow, he should work counter-intuitively so they'd be caught off-guard… do things they wouldn't expect of him…
Perhaps that was the key to escaping. To not be predictable.
Good thing he was good at improvising.
Or… used to be.
What exactly did they expect? They didn't know everything about him; they didn't understand some of the things they thought they knew.
"I think he needs to be a little more uncomfortable," said Daric. "Let's get that shirt off of him."
Jason's heart froze. Such orders usually meant he was about to be cut into….
Other images and feelings superimposed on the old scars. New ones twisted deep into him in a different way… the horrible shame of being an object, something desired, when he had absolutely no say in the matter…. Targeted by people who wanted him and had all the power over him….
Flickers of gold— Pain entangled with the violent humiliation of being cut up with vicious delight by someone who would stop at nothing to take what he wanted—
Blue eyes grazing him, cool fingertips brushing his skin… the heat of her mouth as her hands pressed into the small of his back—traitorous curve of pleasure, the longing to escape for just one moment—
They were already getting what they wanted, freezing him because they'd piled trauma on top of trauma and he couldn't escape it—couldn't fight his way through it—
Kent stood in front of him. Light glanced off a knife.
The guard grasped his chin, lifted his head up.
There was something insidious about the intimacy of being touched by an enemy. What did the guard want? Would he just do what he was told… or something more? Would it be painful or… something else? There was no telling what people would do in this place. He couldn't be surprised, even if he could be in denial after all he'd seen, if someone tried to take something from him by force….
And now he was bound, helpless… Could he get free of the ropes? It might hurt, might be futile… Why didn't I fight them in the first place? Why did I let them bind me?
Have to conserve my energy… choose my battles…. And they can't do too much to me anyway….
Sickness gripped him. Fighting the part of him that was resigned to anything they did—because he'd already given in too much, so what was the point—he turned his head away.
A hand grabbed his hair and wrenched his head back. Kent laughed, the sound echoing dully against the cement walls.
Jason glared at him, anger striking through his body.
Since they're drawing this out—I might have a chance to steel myself, hold myself together—
Kent released him and brought the knife closer. Tapped his chest. The cold of it slammed shards of ice into him, cutting through the fire, though not even close to smothering it.
Kent grabbed his shirt and then cut through it, making jagged slices, catching on the fabric a little, but, surprisingly, not cutting into his skin. Jason flinched several times but managed to conceal it from the guard, who was intent on his task.
He slid the remnants of the shirt off and flung it unceremoniously to the floor.
He shivered as the cold air hit him. It seemed to be blowing from invisible vents pumped straight from the arctic. He wondered that the guards and the interrogator weren't dressed in warmer clothes. Just the standard guard uniform and Daric in a light long-sleeved plaid shirt and blue jeans.
Daric regarded him, head tilted, and Jason feared he might order the guards to cut the rest of his clothes from him. But then Daric waved the guards away, to their visible disappointment, and paced around him. Inspecting him, touching some of the scars.
That made him flinch, partly because his fingers were cold, while also freezing him.
Perhaps anger is the only thing I can rely on to break me free of the fear that'll always be lurking under the surface….
Anything to prevail rather than lie there passively or worse, participate in my unraveling…
Even if you do give in a little… and deserve to because you weren't strong enough—people like this don't deserve any kind of success. They can't win—or the world is lost.
Keep from reacting the way they expect you to.
Which means not reacting to them with anger, either… using it solely as energy to feed on, and conforming that energy to my will.
Daric laid a hand on Jason's chest. "What a privilege it is to work with you."
"I'm not working with you."
"You will eventually… Right now, it's like melody and harmony. Parts of a symphony. Which reminds me. Dorian—play Daric's Playlist Two."
Classical music spilled through invisible speakers, loud enough the bass thrummed into Jason's heart. Violins hummed through the air, then trilled lightly, a bright thread skating through the darkness.
Daric's hand slid lower, and Jason's breath caught—but he just touched one of the whip scars on his side rather wistfully. "I admire his style… but he didn't know you enough to get the right approach." He continued taking inventory of the scars, touching random ones, avoiding others. Jason's face burned.
"Stop that," said Jason. One of the things he wouldn't stand for. A show of strength when they were trying to slice into him was always good.
Daric rubbed a scar on his hip. "Such pain… So strong to resist all of it."
Jason pulled on the rope, ignoring the pain in his shoulder. "I said stop."
Daric rested a hand on his shoulder. "One of the things I was worried about—despite the fact scars can be useful—was that your trauma might be too debilitating for you to be an agent. But you've been able to fight through it." He slid his hand down his back, then gave his side a light squeeze, as if they were on the same team instead of adversaries.
The music swelled and crescendoed and Daric stepped away, his back to Jason, arms spread out as if to gather the full force of the music.
Then he turned back, looking at Jason with unabashed admiration. Almost affection.
Jason trembled under such a gaze—but forcing himself to meet it, it didn't mean what he expected it to mean.
It's not unreasonable to expect more of such things in this place… but I can't be flinching at every look, expecting it at every touch….
Daric clasped his hands. "Despite the fact you're getting a little thin, you've got commendable muscling. Many would give up in your place, but not you. And the defiance branded into every inch of you… forgive me if I geek out for a minute."
"You've been with me for a while."
"But not properly. Now it's… the beginning of the core of the symphony rather than just the prologue. You can't understand a story by just looking at the cover—you have to open it. I like to really get a sense of the beginning of a story before I dive deep into it. I like to establish a foundation for the rest of our time together."
"You're doing an amazing job so far. I'm so looking forward to being with you. You seem like a wonderful person to get to know. Not just a torturer, not just a human trafficker, but someone who believes in a future that only causes more pain."
An affronted look crossed Daric's face. "You misjudge me." He took a step forward. "Our future intends to minimize pain—that's the whole point. But I'm not here to persuade you. I don't own anyone though. And as you well know, I don't torture people if I can help it."
"What do you call this?" He jangled the chains.
"Facilitation of conversation."
"Even if you don't keep slaves—you approve of it."
"It's true you can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs."
"That's an original cliché if I ever heard one."
"It doesn't mean it isn't true. The ends have to justify the means. Because life is messy. Have you ever cleaned a closet? It always gets a lot messier at first, but once it's done—everything's in its place."
"Even if using evil means didn't infuse the ends with evil, from what Elena's told me, the magnificent future is just more of the same: a dictator creating injustice. You can't order things top down without a lot of say from the people it effects… you can't have a just government without a lot of checks and balances. Power corrupts—and that is a sickness that seeps through every pore of this place."
"Only a few are able to use their power for good."
"That's not Elena. I doubt anyone can without others to help keep them grounded."
"She has us."
Jason laughed; it felt good to let the sound rumble pleasantly through his chest. "You're just the kind of people to keep her grounded!"
Daric sat down with a sigh. "I suppose I can't expect you to see us in a good light after what you've been through. But we're so much more than the shreds you've been exposed to." He spread out one arm, fingers moving in rhythm to the orchestra playing through the speakers. "There are lots of things we could talk about…really get to know each other."
"I'd prefer it if you'd just get this over with."
Daric smiled wryly. "We could oblige… I don't want to wait too long, although Elena has her program…"
"Wouldn't she just want amina as soon as possible?"
"We can't… move forward very far without her permission. We have to wait for her orders for every large turn in the road."
"How is she doing?"
"She is recovering. She'll be fully herself soon."
"Is she able to get up and around?"
"She's still on bedrest, although she's getting a bit angry at Doctor Miller." He smiled fondly.
"How is the baby?"
"She adores him. Although she's not up to taking care of him… and won't have much time for him when she goes to work full time."
"So she's keeping him."
"Yes."
That made him both relieved and unsettled.
"He's just what she wanted from Elliot," continued Daric.
"What about Nalika?"
"Elena wasn't sure about her at first, but Nalika has been so attentive that she's become indispensable."
"Since Elena is feeling better… would you be able to… get a message to her for me?"
"What is it?"
"Or—from her to me. Elena told me that she would set Sasha free."
"Why would she set Sasha free?" Suspicion creased his brow.
"Because—" Here the shame of what he'd had to trade caught up with him. "The only thing that matters is what Elena told me."
"She sets no one free without reason. She would only do that under special circumstances." He looked at Jason intently.
He wants to make me say it. That's his game.
"This isn't that big of a deal, is it? If Elena wanted something, she should have it. Or else you'll be in trouble."
"I'm not letting you order me about."
"They're sending Sasha to be an elex. It has to be stopped."
"It may be too far along—"
"Elena promised!"
"I'll find out. If you tell me what you traded for it. I won't believe you otherwise."
It was such a small thing… nothing really…
He took a breath. The words were trapped in his throat.
He shouldn't have to relive it. They still might not honor the deal. But if there was a chance he could still save her… It wasn't as if he had to actually… do what he'd done.
"I… " Don't let on that it affects you this much.
I just—want to be able to get past it, pretend it didn't happen! Is that too much to ask.
Well— I can't exactly do that when the deal isn't finished. Just get this over with.
"I… let her… kiss me."
"And?"
Did he know what had happened? How much did he want!
"I… um… kissed her back." Shame cut through him.
"There. Was that so hard?" Daric smiled, not without a certain sympathy. Jason was grateful he didn't try to drag more out of him.
Daric tapped behind his ear, and, after a moment, spoke. "Hello. Is Elena—May I speak with her?... Alright."
Daric leaned back, closed his eyes, reveling in the music—which was now a Muldavian rock song.
Jason looked at the opposite wall, let it fade out, and imagined a beautiful scene of a mountain stream, until Daric spoke again.
"Hello, Elena? I'm sorry for bothering you. I have Jason here, who claims he made a deal with you. For a child— Thank you. Yes—he's here in all his glory. Defiant as usual. I don't mind. You're the boss. I understand. I'm sorry for—Yes. I will."
He looked back at Jason. "You're right, she did make a deal and intends to honor it. Her order will be sent down so the child's program will be stopped."
"Thank you."
"You see—we honor our deals."
"When will Sasha be freed?"
"When Elena's able to get around to it. Right now she's in Med. Don't worry, the order will go through. But Elena has to authorize an outgoing vehicle in person."
A thrill raced through him. Sasha would be free!
It wasn't that much I had to give up, really… I can ignore it now.
Daric asked him about the things he liked… things perhaps they had in common… but Jason wouldn't take the bait. It was all interrogation, even if Daric implied that getting to know each other would make this go more smoothly. "And keep this from getting tedious."
Finally he wound back around to amina. Jason was able to tune him out. Just the barest edge of impatience crept into his voice.
Daric motioned the guards back over. They'd been pretending to torture each other in the back of the chamber. Almost falling over each other laughing.
Daric motioned them to stop several feet away and walked up to Jason. "Just watching you is entertaining… I would like more interaction, personally… but we're not here for my sake. We do need to move this forward, though. If you won't speak at all… we'll have to resort to other methods."
"How about this?" said Kent, tapping a metal rod in his palm.
Gleb lifted a whip with leather cords. "No—this is more…striking."
"I'm talking about something that literally loosens tongues. It'll double as a demonstration of what we already possess—just a fraction of the power that we seek. Please retrieve the container of zyx from the cupboard. And the syringes."
Jason's heart flipped over. He'd taken zyx before… but how much did they plan to give him?
He'd been drugged in Paraguay… he didn't even remember the time he was under. And when Gray had given him truth serum, he'd come the closest to breaking under its power.
"Also—yes, let's bring the mushrooms too. The cocktail is best for the most recalcitrant subjects."
"So you had this option all along," said Jason, breaking his silence. "Why didn't you lead with it?"
"It's not my favorite tool. It's cheating—interrogation is supposed to be a conversation. And it makes everything a bit too messy. I have to admit—part of it is because I like you. It's so unpleasant to see strength like yours reduced to a blathering wreck… drugs are truly the great equalizer. People become completely subsumed by them… their personality disappears… but that's why it's so effective." His green eyes flickered with sorrow.
"So—I take it I don't get to eat today."
"If you speak under the influence, you do."
More rewards for things he would never willingly choose…
The guards set the items on the table and Daric poked the needle into the container of liquified zyx, then used the little spoon inside the powder container to pour a small amount of the gray mushroom powder onto a third container. He squirted some of the zyx back out, mixed it with the powder, then used another syringe to sip the mixture back up. He held it up to the light, tapped it to release the bubbles, then had Gleb hold Jason's arm as Kent held him still with the threat of a shockrod, and pricked Jason's skin with the needle, gliding it into the vein on his bicep.
For a few minutes there was nothing as Daric paced and the guards looked on eagerly.
Panic hit him. He hated the idea of being controlled by an alien substance … and now they'd be able to do anything to him and he wouldn't even be able to resist…
He fought the dull pleasant haze… then a warm feeling twined into him… a very faint flicker of iridescence ringed his vision… and a vague sick feeling settled in his stomach.
"I truly am sorry about this." Daric's voice was lower, slightly distorted…. "The mind-warping mushrooms don't mix well with zyx… not from the subject's point of view." His eyes were emerald glints. They tilted a little… slid off his face— his mouth floated away, rising up to meet the musical notes near the ceiling… He followed the notes for a bit; they soothed him, drew him away from all the unpleasantness on the ground. He floated along the ceiling and looked down on himself… a single point of pain at his wrists keeping him pinned there, otherwise he might float through the ceiling—
Euphoria hit him. I could be free! If I just figure out to undo these ropes…. I can fly right up above the roof. Or fly higher, as long as I can get down eventually… A tinge of fear hit him at this, but it didn't concern him too much.
He sank back down reluctantly and yanked at the ropes behind himself. He could see the marks on his back… some of them were sliding off, creating a design in the air…. He didn't like what form they were making and waved at them, and they floated away mockingly…
He tried to turn his finger into a knife, but it shook right off and swelled up into a balloon that popped! when it hit the ceiling.
Something patting his face. He merged back into his body; there was a figure in front of him, a strange blur for a head, tapping at his face with hands that looked like boards.
"Sh—top…. top…" He laughed as a top spun off into the distance where the wall gave way and a silver waterfall spilled out of the ruins.
I can just float off into it… I'll be free…
His heart jumped hard in his chest; it was twice the size as normal and weighed him down heavily. Perhaps the ropes were just an illusion…
"Stay with me, dear," said the voice, which merged with a bouncy song, trilling up up up to the sun—blazing down on them, making the floor into a desert. A frog hopped to the side and was swallowed by a large yellow snake. The snake bulged and twirled sideways then flopped over and segmented into a thousand tiny crabs. The crabs crawled up his legs and arms—he shimmied up the pole and reached the top, where the tree embraced him in its shadow…. Below the desert stretched to eternity, bumping up against the watery paradise…
I'm too high. Panic hit him—his stomach turned over.
"Easy to overdose on the shrooms," said Daric, suddenly in front of him, his face sharp with laughter. A hand on his shoulder—too heavy—sickened him
And suddenly he was on the floor, sand crawling away into the drain, and a hand was holding his head up. "It's okay. I'll get you through this."
Pain wrenched his stomach—chills fluttered through his body, striking sharp aches randomly through his muscles.
Something warm against his back; a hand stroked his hair. A gentle smile. "Can't do much if it doesn't stay down… Hm…. We could try the other kind…."
"Whathh…." The sluggish word glomped away in the form of a large purple slug, which vanished into the wall.
"I couldn't do that to you. We're not to that point yet. I really didn't anticipate this much of an adverse reaction… but there are always roadbumps." Daric sighed and stroked Jason's hair back. His other arm was wrapped around him. He knew he should feel alarm, but he was too drained to think or feel much more than relief. And a remnant of longing for the idyllic world that had never been.
At least his wrists were free…
Daric lifted Jason's arm gently and held it near his wrist. There was a violent red mark there, and a patch where the skin had rubbed off. "We'll get you fixed up."
The guards carried him to his cell; Gleb set the bag of food on the table. Daric helped Kent lay Jason on the cot. Then he carefully washed the wound on his wrist and spread salve on it. By this time, Jason's heart was rebelling against this; gentle treatment was just another tactic. And he didn't want to be cared for by the enemy. But he was too worn out to do anything about it; it felt like he'd been hit by a train.
Daric paused and said, "Don't eat for another half hour or so. We don't want you to get sick again." Then he left with the guards.
Jason was tempted to do the opposite of what he suggested, but he was too weak to drag himself out of bed, and so he lay there, breathing hard, trying to regain any strength he had left. Fragments of thoughts floated through his mind, too weak to gain traction.
When he was finally able to get to the table and fight away the remnants of queasiness, he forced himself to eat slowly. He couldn't afford to lose what little food they'd given him.
It was a beef patty and some snap peas. Delicious, but not nearly enough to keep him going, especially if they didn't feed him another two days.
There are always the mushrooms.
He couldn't help but laugh.
He awoke, shivering. He pulled the sheet up over himself; he felt like half of his body had turned to ice. He thought it might be because he had a fever—chills and aches raced through him—but then he saw swirls of mist rise away with each breath.
He sat up; his head whirled, the fantastical images of yesterday imprinted like ghostly afterimages. He pulled the sheet around his bare shoulders. They hadn't given him a shirt to wear after the interrogation. Perhaps they wouldn't give him another one.
Is their plan to make me freeze to death?
Cautiously he stood, his stomach churning as if he were on a heaving ship. The room seemed to tilt, the edges fading.
Aches bursting through his muscles, he shuffled over to the dresser and spilled a painkiller and restorative into his palm. After dropping them onto his tongue, he drank from the faucet and swallowed. Then he sat back on the wooden bench along the wall and leaned his head back against the cement.
Gradually the aches subsided.
Since the cold didn't disappear, he kept shivering. When he felt up to standing, he walked around the room, trying to get warm. He tested the door; relief flooded him when it creaked open. It was slightly warmer in the hallway, although he could still see his breath.
His vision wavering, he walked slowly out into the main room. Kiran, Quinn and Lucia were sitting along the wall near the Mush Room. There were just a few others wandering around the room. It hit him with a jolt that all of the kids were gone—and Sasha was gone too.
Had Elena set her free yet? Anger wound through him that Elena might not have "gotten around to it". Elena was still recovering—but Sasha was in danger every moment.
"Hey, Jason!" said Kiran. He lifted The Odyssey. "Don't worry. We weren't discussing it without you."
"Are you alright?" said Quinn, concern in his green eyes.
Jason nodded. He wrapped the sheet tighter around himself.
"They didn't—take your shirt?" said Quinn.
Jason nodded again.
Quinn's eyes flashed. "It's already so cold—what are they doing."
Jason attempted a smile. "Attempting to break me down."
"I'll get you a blanket!" said Lucia in Italian. "I have one in my room." She leaped to her feet.
"No—I don't want to take your blanket."
"You need it more than me." She dashed off down the intake hallway.
"So… you all got caught up?" said Jason.
Kiran nodded. "It was a lifesaver. It actually inspired the next part of my story when I was stuck."
"How is your story going?"
"They haven't taken the pen and paper so far. But I'm trying to memorize it in case they do. I've got five chapters."
"That's amazing!" Jason sat down beside him. "Can I read it?"
"Well… it's pretty rough. And the cold doesn't help my mind. It might not be anything—but at least it's… something to focus on."
"Did you find out about Sasha?" asked Quinn.
Jason nodded slowly, not wanting to reveal anything about the deal. He'd just told them that Elena had agreed to set Sasha free for her birthday, although he knew the others suspected there was a lot more to it. But they were in the same boat here; they knew what kind of deals were made in this place.
Maybe I should just let them know… their imagination might be worse than the truth.
But. I don't want to bring it out in the light any more than I have to.
Move forward, don't look back.
Jason continued, "Elena just has to get around to it…. I don't know if she has yet."
Lucia raced back, carrying a green blanket. She handed it to Jason and he gave her his sheet, which she folded neatly and set against the wall. Jason wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. It felt good to be hugged in warmth; the biting cold subsided and he stopped shivering. "Thank you, Lucia."
"Prego— You are welcome," she said in a strong Italian accent.
"Very good."
She smiled at Quinn. "I have very good teacher."
Quinn smiled back, a shadow of pained longing in his eyes.
They settled in to discuss the book. Jason was involved at first but gradually thoughts of Sasha intruded and it was almost impossible to focus on anything else.
He excused himself and pressed the pager in his pocket.
He waited, but it didn't buzz in return.
Where was Brianna? She was supposed to be his liaison.
He sat back down and tried to reintegrate into the discussion, but he felt sick wondering what they could be doing to the precious little girl who wanted to be an agent just like him.
She deserves that chance. She deserves everything she can get—everything beautiful in the world.
He broke off a mushroom from the wall, remembering what fun she'd had playing with them. He tilted it back and forth in his hands, then squished it. Mushroom juice squelched through his fingers.
These things have to be good for something…. They're always watching. They'd know if I kept them and dried them… ground them into a powder and put it in her drink… besides, what would I do afterwards?
If I got the dose right, it could be used for interrogation…. If they use drugs against me again… I can see what dose is right…. I can interrogate her and she can tell me how to escape. Maybe I'll have to do that the next time they let me up.
There's always zyx… and the painkillers. Get my hands on some zyx… interrogate her, then bring her along so her biometrics can get me out… so she can't be too incapacitated. But at least I don't have to worry about harming the baby now.
She even has zyx in her room probably… or perhaps I can ply Ali…. Or get some from the interrogation room…
Daric mentioned another mushroom. Or some other substance. It was true that some mushrooms were more purple-gray, and others had a bluish tint…. Those were rarer, and more grew closer to the ceiling compared to the others.
He broke one off. Their stems were slightly smaller.
I could test these… maybe they don't have bad side effects….
He was about to take a tiny bite when footsteps approached— swift, even taps down Intake.
Brianna emerged.
His heart leaped.
He approached, yearning to find out about Sasha.