The Recusant

by Greg Hanks

  Other bodies were thrown into the ring, men and women of varying ages in gray leathers. V’delle could only see one side. A teenage boy. Three women her mother’s age. Men who’d seen the war since the beginning.

  “Now let’s take a look at some of you,” the Lo’Zon said. “I do want to see your faces. See your dreams and desires for a world without us. To me, it makes no sense. So to see you firsthand will help me greatly. Let me look at you.”

  V’delle waited as the Lo’Zon spent time walking the circle, stopping every few feet to examine the Calcitra who had proven to be nuisances throughout the war. Other Naons and other V’delles who had become items to each other.

  She heard the Lo’Zon tsk. “I mean, children? Really? How have I proven to be such a ruthless dictator?” He spun around, raising his voice to the overall crowds. “How have I been anything other than a benefactor to this planet? I have shown Cities food and water, currency and hard work. Eventually, we will have fully free Cities. Liberty, security. Technology! How has any of this warranted retaliation? I treat your children inside the Chalis with respect and discipline. They have all grown to be important forces in this world. Have I not shown my generosity?”

  There was a pause as the Lo’Zon continued his walk. His stealth socks scuffled close to V’delle’s ears.

  “Spin her,” he said.

  Naon stooped to turn V’delle onto her back. V’delle saw the white mask and triangle tendrils upside down, the black sheen of the dropship as a backdrop.

  “What is her name?” he asked Naon.

  “V’delle. She is one of the Unborn who escaped the Chalis three months ago.”

  “The Unborn.” He shook his head, rounding her body. He crouched and spoke softly. “V’delle . . . V’delle. It must have been terrifying discovering what you were—what you are. To feel the separation that so few do. A sorrowful existence you have led, V’delle. Wait . . .” The Lo’Zon paused and straightened. “I . . . I remember this one. I remember this child. The white hair. The little girl that I held in my arms with white hair. I remember so few of you.” He came to her side, his face close. He began stroking her cheek. “I put a handful of children into their chambers myself. To feel connected, you see. I remember I had you kill that boy when you awoke. I’m sure you excelled at the start. You thought you’d go on to become a soldier whose name was known up the ranks of the Chalis. My child. My dear child. All this blood on your face. All this soot. Much like the dirtiness of this pointless cause. It’s infected you. You find yourself constricted by my nanomachines rather than helping me bring the recusant out for judgement.” The Lo’Zon continued stroking V’delle’s cheek, contemplating. His mask turned, as if he was trying to remember something.

  He started chuckling and looked at Naon. “Unbelievable . . .” It sounded to V’delle like the Lo’Zon had just remembered something profound and serendipitous. “I . . . feel I must let you know a little secret I have kept about your life. You must know something before all this ends today, V’delle. Something I believe everyone here must know as well. I take great care in knowing my Preen’ch. Great, great care. I know with whom they associate. I pride myself on being kept apprised on all things. About three months ago, my Warlord Seen’ai asked for a secret regiment to dismantle the Unborn who had escaped the Chalis, who had disturbed the war effort greatly. In my intuition, I knew that you were only a nuisance and nothing more; your knowledge, your uniqueness doesn’t matter when Sanction is our new home. But in my generosity to my Warlords, I humored Seen’ai. You see, he asked for soldiers and I went above and beyond.” He paused, savoring his next sentence. He crouched again and touched V’delle’s cheek. “I sent your best friend, V’delle. I sent Prism Mir’u to stop you—well, stop you or not, that was irrelevant to me. I personally plucked her from her duties as Preen’ch and placed her in your path. Where is Mir’u these days?”

  V’delle’s heart could not be contained by the nanomachines. Blood surged and strained. Her muscles vibrated in anger. Prism. It had never been coincidence—and how could it? The Lo’Zon had been the one to send Prism that day. Like pieces on a board, he had arranged Prism’s demise on a whim, on the request of a deranged Warlord. The nanomachines could not stop her tears, either.

  The Lo’Zon made a disgusted sound and stood. “You know what. Let us hear what this one has to say.”

  Naon jerked her head to the Lo’Zon. “But—”

  “Open yourself, my child,” the Lo’Zon said, opening his own palm as if offering a gift.

  Instantly the nanomachines fell away and her body became hers once again. She gasped for breath even though she’d been breathing fine. Her body chilled and warmed. She looked up at the Lo’Zon, mere feet away. She looked around, seeing the other recusant lying flat-faced against the ground and Warlords and Preen’ch spread throughout the clearing, watching her.

  “V’delle?” the Lo’Zon asked, crouching to her eye level.

  She looked at him, following the strange, oily iridescence within his porcelain-like mask. A mere foot away from each other. All she needed to do was reach out and twist.

  “I don’t . . .” she began, still shivering. “I don’t want to do anything. I just want to live. Please let us live.”

  The Lo’Zon sighed and crossed his arms over a knee.

  “After you slaughtered my Preen’ch here? After everything you’ve done these past three months? How is that fair? I’ve just told everyone how important these children are to me. Do you think I forget about my children? Releasing you would just put you back into the Calcitra ant hill. You have lived, V’delle. I don’t have time for stupid questions and pitiful expulsions of a beggar.” He stood.

  “Wait!” V’delle said. “Will you allow them to live if you just take me?”

  “Are you still a child?” the Lo’Zon asked, as if she were stupid. “Allow all of these soldiers like you to go free? I bet there are hundreds of soldiers here who could best you in any range of combat scenarios. And to have you in exchange? This war has been raging for twenty years, and you think because Naon hates you that you have some kind of power over me? You were once my child, V’delle. But you are nothing now. I have disowned you.”

  “I didn’t choose to be anything!” V’delle spat. “I didn’t ask to be Unborn!”

  “But you embraced the ways of the Calcitra. You allowed those impulses to overwrite your purpose. You don’t need indoctrination to see how necessary our way of life is. Sometimes fathers have children that go astray. I understand that. I prepared for that.”

  “You are no one’s father. You stole all of us. You are the reason for everything!”

  V’delle lunged at him.

  He powered his fist into her face in immediate response. She fell onto her back.

  “Where are her friends?” the Lo’Zon asked. “Bring them to me. Now.”

  Naon was staring at V’delle.

  “Naon,” the Lo’Zon demanded.

  Naon jolted and looked toward the edge of the crowd. She jogged over with Wrone. V’delle turned onto her stomach and looked hopelessly into the crowds. A few seconds later, Naon brought Farin, and Wrone dragged both Ceres and Machovec. V’delle couldn’t see Balien. Naon had left him behind.

  V’delle could not control her emotions. Her body trembled as she watched from her hands and knees. The Lo’Zon deactivated their nanomachines. The three women came to life in fear, not daring to stand, Machovec slumped on one arm, drowsy.

  “Naon, Naon,” the Lo’Zon remarked as he walked toward the three women. “You must truly hate this girl. You really did know her friends?”

  “They were surrounding her—”

  “Stop,” he commanded. He stepped up to the women as if looking to buy. “Well, let me get a close look at true Calcitra warriors.”

  “The blonde one is another Unborn that escaped with V’delle,” Naon said.

  The Lo’Zon looked at Naon to see if she was finished. He turned to Farin and crouched.

  “
Another one,” the Lo’Zon said. “You two must be close friends if you stuck together all these months. Another child of mine. I wish it didn’t happen—the Unborn traits. Truly, I do. Technology is never perfect, I guess. I do not remember you. I can’t remember holding you. Shame.”

  Farin viewed him with shock and angst but could not do anything except pant.

  He stepped to the next person, Ceres. “And this one has a missing arm.” He crouched to meet Ceres head-on. “I know what that pain is like. I have a missing arm as well. I choose to cover up my loss, but you have bravely taken the other route. I admire that.” He maintained his crouch and looked at the last woman, Machovec. “Now, why all the women, V’delle? Can you not make male friends? You make me look like a slayer of women.” He reached out and pushed Machovec’s sweaty brown hair from her eyes. “Such hurt in this one’s eyes. I wish you could have accepted all I had to offer. You look tired. I wish I could provide you with the hundreds of beds within Baudenhof, but some part of me says that this City has become unusable. Thank you for that.”

  The Lo’Zon stood and scanned the three women again. When he passed Ceres, he stopped. His head craned. Then he turned to V’delle and observed her. Back to Ceres. V’delle’s heart began hurting in her tight chest. Sweat and blood were pouring off her nose. The Lo’Zon approached her and crouched. His whisper grated her ears.

  “Tell me how you know these women,” he asked. “Mm? Can you do that for me?” He pushed a strand of her hair behind her ear.

  “I . . . I . . .”

  “Stop, stop, stop. No more quivering. Answer me.”

  “W-Which one.”

  “Did I not say, ‘these women?’”

  “F-Farin. Unborn. Naon was right. Missing arm is C-Ceres. Calcitra friend. Last is Machovec, another Calcitra friend.”

  “Is ‘Calcitra friend’ a good way of describing someone?” the Lo’Zon asked. “Don’t be disrespectful. Tell me again how you know these women.”

  “P-Please,” V’delle mumbled. She squeezed her eyes shut. “Please don’t do this. Please, Savior. Please take me. Let them live.” Her face was puffy and red and draining tears.

  “You think backtracking, deflecting, and selfishness will save anyone? Tell me.”

  “I . . . I can’t.”

  The Lo’Zon grabbed the back of V’delle’s neck and made her look at the other women. “Tell me!”

  “S-Stop!”

  “I wish you could just make things easier!” the Lo’Zon yelled, getting up and going to grab Farin by the hair. He made sure V’delle watched. “Do you know what I can make my nanomachines do? I don’t need weapons, V’delle. Do you understand what I mean?”

  “Her name is Farin!” V’delle exclaimed. “She’s the Unborn I came out with! I’ve travelled with her since the beginning! She’s my best friend! Please, Lo’Zon! Please let her go! Don’t hurt her!”

  “That is better!” the Lo’Zon said, throwing Farin to the ground. “Next!” He grabbed Ceres by the hair.

  “I . . . I met Ceres a few weeks ago, in Cassel! S-She helped us with this raid. She helped plan everything. She—”

  “Do not make me ask you again!”

  “I’m telling you!”

  “This woman is related to you!” the Lo’Zon screamed, revealing his true agenda. “Do you think I did this for sport? Tell me how you’re related!”

  V’delle froze. Naon looked at V’delle with a contorted brow. The Lo’Zon held Ceres tight, and Ceres was forcing tears with a scrunched face.

  “She’s . . . she’s my—”

  “Did you find your mother, V’delle?” the Lo’Zon asked, with a tone that eliminated all sobriety in his demeanor.

  V’delle whimpered but didn’t say anything. Her legs were ready to pounce, her body rigid with overwhelming fear. Her mind could not think properly. It felt like she had a fever of a thousand degrees. The sweat had soaked her.

  “This is your mother . . .” The Lo’Zon let go of Ceres’ hair and stepped around to look at her once more. “Amazing. How in the world did you find your mother?”

  “Please,” V’delle mumbled through spit and mucus. “Please . . . please . . .”

  “How did she find you?” the Lo’Zon asked Ceres.

  “We were drawn to each other,” Ceres said. “It was only a matter of time before we found each other.” Ceres was looking at V’delle, determination on her face, her tears gone.

  “You were drawn together?” the Lo’Zon said, scoffing. “I am not in the business of aphorisms.”

  “It’s the truth, Savior,” Ceres said, looking him in the mask. “You separated us. And we found each other over miles and miles of country. You can’t keep family apart. Especially us. Don’t you have a family? You must have had parents.”

  V’delle was shaking her head at her mother, sobbing.

  The Lo’Zon looked at V’delle. “You would risk your own estranged mother’s life for a skirmish like this? Just so you could take one City?”

  “I’m not some precious gem,” Ceres said. “We risked each other because we knew we’d win.”

  “And are you winning?” the Lo’Zon asked.

  “All your Preen’ch are dead,” she said. “Can your nanomachines hold all of these Calcitra in place forever?”

  “You are not her mother,” the Lo’Zon said, his voice soft and restrained. “You did not hold this girl in your arms as you placed her entire life in front of her. I created this woman. The V’delle you see here is my creation, not yours. And though it utterly destroys me to know that you have reunited only to be severed again, I must maintain my children. You see, I wanted more for them than you could have ever imagined. She has skills that would propel her into a future full of bright opportunity. You let her be ripped from your weak arms by machines. I raised her. You suffered.”

  Ceres was looking at the Lo’Zon, but her resolve had faded. The tears had returned. She looked at her daughter. “The only suffering I did went by in the blink of an eye. I know my daughter like you will never know her, even if I only got to spend a few days with her. I gave birth to her. She’s mine. She’ll always be mine. Our reunion was all I ever needed in this life. This life you have ruined for everyone who still wants freedom. It doesn’t matter what you—”

  The Lo’Zon took a knife from his belt and stuck it in Ceres’ throat, carving a line across. Blood spurted and Ceres gurgled. The Lo’Zon used so much force that Ceres’ head ripped at the seam before he kicked her body into the ground.

  V’delle screamed and started running.

  “You are done moving!” the Lo’Zon yelled.

  A force slammed V’delle and focused her spine. She tumbled to her face, searing pain rising through her vertebrae. She let out a raw, shrieking scream. Her lower back cracked, a hollow popping sound. Excruciation flooded her lower back, curving around her stomach and groin. She lay on the cobblestone, letting quick wisps of pain flee from her mouth, every breath threatening to make her black out. She could hear Farin and Machovec’s pleas, their sobbing outcries. She stared, unable to move her legs. The pain did not go away no matter how strong she urged her Preen’ch instincts to kick in. The Lo’Zon had broken her back.

  “We’re done,” the Lo’Zon said. “I’m done with this City. I’m done with these Calcitra. Bring V’delle.” He raised his voice to the other Warlords. “Bring your recusant! Leave the rest to burn!”

  The Lo’Zon lifted himself off the ground, up toward the dropship.

  Naon stood still, watching the three remaining women writhe. She slowly stepped toward V’delle, gently lifted, and brought her to the center of the courtyard.

  V’delle watched Farin and Machovec get farther away. The shock had taken over. Crying only hurt her back more, so her body resorted to a contorted freeze. The world spiraled out of focus. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind. The sound of the blade in her neck repeated. The image was across her eyes, eternally. A platform from the dropship descended and touched the floor. Naon st
epped onto the metal. More Khor’Zon and their quarry joined them on the platform. Soon it brought them and the rest of the recusant into the dropship, and another siren sounded off.

  Plasma beams shot from the sides of the ship, decimating the buildings surrounding the courtyard, causing the entire place to be engulfed in brick, dust, ash, and fire. Buildings on all tiers of Baudenhof erupted like volcanoes. The dropship lifted off.

  Farin and Machovec touched Ceres’ body, pawing for some sense of understanding. The rest of the Calcitra were released from the nanomachine grip and chaos ensued.

  Farin’s mouth was dry and full of ash flakes. Her eyes stung and could barely remain open. Boots clamored in the clearing, trying to find a way out of the flame wall. The smoke was becoming toxic and claustrophobic. She held tight to Ceres’s clothing, refusing Machovec’s urges to leave.

  When Machovec finally pulled Farin off, Farin started coughing violently. They fell to a sit as Balien reached them, as hundreds of soldiers poured in. The coughing continued, and Farin had to retch on the floor, head down, body convulsing. Once the spasms subsided, she touched her lips. Her hand came back bloodied. Machovec released Farin’s head and noticed strands of blonde hair sticking to her sweaty hands. Balien fell to his knees. Farin wept. And they all watched in misery as the dropship took V’delle away.

  THE END

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Greg was born and raised in Utah. He graduated with a degree in English, Creative Writing from Utah Valley University in 2016. Wholly passionate about his craft and energetic about grounded stories with unique, empathetic characters, he hopes to give the world grand adventures through his novels. His favorite novels include "The Road" by Cormac McCarthy and "The Transall Saga" by Gary Paulsen, and his favorite filmmaker is Denis Villeneuve.