Dependent Days

by Chris Sapp

  “Yes, my liege,” Magnus answered.

  “You may rise,” the Czar said. They did as they were commanded. The Czar stared at them. His crystal white eyes unreadable.

  “Well, where is this heir you intend to present?” The Czar asked.

  “In my womb your grace,” Kariah answered.

  “Interesting, that you chose to present an heir that has been conceived but not yet birthed. Especially, considering that your last one was born so disgracefully defective that it wasn’t even worthy of a slave’s heir.”

  Kariah looked away when the Czar’s eyes fell on her.

  “Consider it a progress report, your grace,” Magnus said. “Despite our setbacks, we still believe we can produce a healthy heir.”

  “Alright. Tell me where does this belief stem from?” The Czar asked.

  “I…” Magnus stuttered.

  “Love, your grace,” Kariah said, when she saw her husband’s cowardice prevailing.

  “Love?” The Czar laughed.

  “Yes,” Kariah said, forcing herself to continue, “We believe that the reason our last child was defective was because it was conceived out of greed, not love. Magnus became so eager to please you that he ceased to be the man I fell in love with. We fell out of love with one another and were on the verge of divorce. But instead we rekindled our love and the Gods saw fit to grant us with another child.” The Czar was the most terrifying being she had ever seen and she couldn’t believe she’d found the will to speak to him. Let alone speak so much truth. His white pupil-less eyes bore into her for what seemed like an eternity.

  “Is this true Lord Slade?”

  “Yes, your grace,” Magnus said, making a show of taking Kariah’s hand in his own. He squeezed it lovingly and she squeezed back.

  “Well, I don’t believe in love myself. I think it is just as fleeting as the rest of our emotions. So, tell me what happens when the power of love fails to provide a healthy heir. What will you do then Lady Slade?”

  “I…”

  “Would you let another stallion impregnate your wife Lord Slade? Perhaps a stallion in your very employ.”

  Kariah fought the urge to look at Magnus. She silently willed her husband to answer.

  “No, of course not,” Magnus finally said.

  “Why? It is a means to an end is it not? I tasked you with providing a suitable heir. As long as I am told the truth, I care not where it comes from,” the Czar said.

  Damn, thought Kariah. She should’ve known that the Czar wouldn’t care that Blair was the father and if he didn’t care then Blair wouldn’t be doomed to face the Crucible. She glanced at Magnus and saw that he was just as shocked by the Czar’s words as she was. At least he hadn’t lied to her.

  “We hadn’t thought about it in those terms your grace,” Kariah said.

  “I see. Well, if this child proves to be as worthless as the last, I suggest you consider it because I will only grant you three opportunities to present a suitable heir. Is that understood?”

  “Yes, your Grace,” Magnus said.

  “Good. Now leave me,” the Czar turned away from them. Kariah sighed and began to turn away herself. But she froze when she saw that Magnus hadn’t moved.

  “I have one more matter to discuss, your grace,” Magnus said.

  “Which is?” the Czar asked.

  “This,” Magnus said, raising the silver briefcase. Kariah had forgotten all about it. She watched as Magnus balanced the briefcase on one flat palm and then opened the latches with his free hand. Inside was a relic of technology. A first generation datapad. It was square and clunky. The Czar took the device gently from Magnus as if merely transporting from one person to another would break it. Kariah watched as the Czar used the talon on his pointer finger to press play. The motors inside the datapad began to whine as they came to life. The black screen gave way to the first image and the Czar’s jaw fell open. The screen was facing away from her so Kariah had no idea what the Czar was seeing. But whatever it was, it surprised him.

  “Hello, I’m doctor Philip Harbinger,” she heard someone on the screen say. The Czar gasped and hit the stop button.

  “The Harbinger-vid…,” he mumbled still staring wide eyed at the frozen screen. Kariah didn’t have the slightest idea what was going on. But the Czar’s demeanor had completely changed. Gone was the intimidating God that worried about nothing because he controlled all things. Magnus had thrown him a wicked curve ball with whatever was on the old datapac. She felt both a sense of pride for her husband and a sense of fear.

  “Where did you find this?” The Czar asked.

  “I discovered it while I was carrying out your decree to stop Phaelan Lennox’s unauthorized detox.”

  “Phaelan Lennox had this? I decreed you to take care of him a month ago. Your report made no mention of this!”

  “Phaelan didn’t have it at the time,” Magnus said. “It was hidden in a storage unit on Arktikus. His daughter found it and we recovered it from her.”

  “Your report made no mention of Phaelan’s daughter either,” the Czar growled.

  “I didn’t want to bother you with it, my grace. I had no idea it would lead to something so important,” Magnus said.

  “What is the girl’s name?” the Czar asked.

  “Izabel Ramsey. A bastard. But don’t worry your grace, I took care of it. She’s dead. I identified the body myself.”

  The Czar nodded. “And have you seen this?”

  “Yes, that’s how I knew to bring it to you,” Magnus said.

  “I presume Phaelan’s bastard saw it. Is there anyone else that might have seen it?”

  “Two other possibilities, but not likely. But rest assured, I took care of it. It’s all been handled.”

  “Who were they?” the Czar demanded.

  “Bounty hunters. Larkin Grundy and Roe Driskell,” Magnus said.

  “Deceased?”

  “Not yet. But it’s inevitable. They will run in the next Crucible.”

  “What about you, Lady Slade? Have you seen this?” the Czar asked. Kariah fiercely shook her head No. The Czar had regained his composure and with it his keen ability to intimidate.

  “No,” Magnus said. “She didn’t know anything about it.”

  “Phaelan and his bastard saw it and they are both dead. Grundy and Driskell might’ve seen it and they will perish in the Crucible. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, my liege,” Magnus answered and Kariah couldn’t help but notice the pride she heard in his voice.

  “Good. You’ve done well,” The Czar said. Magnus glowed under the Czar’s praise.

  “Because that only leaves you,” the Czar said. Before his words could register on either Slade, the Czar spread his wings and leapt into the air while simultaneously breathing a stream fire from his mouth. Kariah reared back on her hind legs in an effort to escape. The heat was intense as the fire spiraled down at her but none of the flames burned her. The Czar’s fire breath was intended solely for Magnus. Kariah could feel the air rushing off the steady flap of his enormous wings. It was the most terrifying sight she had ever seen. So, she ran. Her hooves beat rapidly on the polished slate and her heart pounded in her chest. But neither could drown out the sound of her husband’s agonizing screams or the smell of his burning flesh filling her nose. Magnus was calling her name. But instead of slowing her down, it only made her run faster. She made it as far as the stairs and then her retreat was cut off by a wall of cloaked Fenixborn. Instead of standing along the sides of the platform like they had been before, they were now standing shoulder-to-shoulder across the width of the platform. She saw no malice in their iridescent eyes. But she saw no sympathy or mercy either. They would do whatever they were ordered to do. Magnus had stopped screaming. In fact the only sounds she could hear was the slow beating of the Czar’s wings and her own ragged breathing. She forced herself to turn around. The Czar was hovering over a smoking pile of ash that used to be the great Magnus Slade, Interim-Druglord of Slade Enterprises
and her husband. Tiny bits of ash swirled in the air in rhythm with the Czar’s wings. Tears blurred her vision but not before she saw a fleshless black hand rising out of the pile. She turned and spewed onto the stone floor.

  “Tell me Lady Slade, does true love always beat such a hasty retreat?” Mocked the Czar as he lowered himself to the floor next to her. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked up at him.

  “The instinct to survive is the most powerful of all instincts, but is it stronger than love? A love you claim to possess for the late Magnus Slade. He even cried out for you and yet you didn’t stop.” His milky white eyes bore into her.

  “I panicked,” she said and hot tears welled in her eyes.

  “No. You acted on instinct to save your own life and the life you bear inside you.” He pressed his hand firmly against the underside of her belly.

  “This child may have been conceived out of love, but it was not Magnus’s love,” he said. His breath was hot and smokey.

  “I—,”

  “Tell me the truth unless you want to share your husband’s fiery fate,” he dug his talons deep into her hide.

  “Blair Hawkins is the father,” she confessed.

  “Just as my spies reported and the fact that Blair is the father is what made you so sure that the child will be a suitable heir?” the Czar asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Did Magnus know?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  “Really? So having Blair play the part of surrogate father was the original plan?”

  “No, that was never planned. It just happened. My original plan was to kill Magnus. But when that failed, I used my child as a bargaining chip to allow Blair to run the Crucible instead of facing detox.”

  “I see. Well, like I stated before, I honestly do not care where the heir comes from. So, you and Magnus had no reason to lie to me,” he said.

  “Please…we didn’t know.” She was trembling uncontrollably.

  “Ignorance is forgivable…at least once,” he said. She gasped as he released his grip on her belly.

  “Given recent events, Slade Enterprises is currently in need of a Druglord and a future heir. I think a mare such as yourself would be aptly suited. Don’t you agree?”

  “You say that as if I have a choice,” she snorted.

  “You always have a choice. So, which future will it be Lady Slade? My subject or my wrath?” He smiled, revealing a maw of needle like teeth. Smoke tendrils drifted lazily from his nostrils like smoke stacks.

  Never in her life had she thought about being a Druglord. That was always Magnus’s dream. But now her abusive husband was a pile of smoking ash. If she was a Druglord, then she would control everything. She could protect her child and raise it exactly the way she wanted. She would also control every aspect of the Slade empire. Her power would ensure that the workers in the greenhouse were as well paid as the ones in the lab. Her power could right all of Magnus’s wrongs.

  “I accept your offer,” she said.

  “Good. I declare you interim Druglord starting now. I will inform the Order of my decision to relieve Magnus of his position and name you as his successor. Like all the Druglords that have come before you, I am tasking you with several priorities. Priority number one, keep Slade Enterprises operating in the black. Number two, despite the odds of this outcome coming to fruition, ensure that both Roe Driskell and Larkin Grundy do not survive the Crucible. Number three, forget any plans you might have had of keeping Driskell’s resurrected body. It belongs to me now. One of my flock will retrieve it after the conclusion of the games. Last but not least, Blair Hawkins’s fate is sealed. He must run the Crucible and you must condemn him in front of the ‘verse. Blame the attempt on Magnus’s life solely on him. That is the only way, the galaxy will accept you as the new Druglord of Slade Enterprises.”

  Condemn Blair? It would crush him. Her heart was threatening to cave in on itself. Tears welled in her eyes.

  “Are these priorities obtainable Lady Slade?”

  “Yes,” she lied.

  IZABEL

  WHEN IZABEL WOKE up she was blind and choking. She felt as if she was floating in water. Her panicked brain tried to swim for the surface and she found that her arms and legs were sluggish and unresponsive. As an elf she had always been thin and light, but her limbs felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each. Each time she tried coughing and spitting out the water that was choking her, more seemed to flood in through her nostrils. The fact that the water was much fouler in taste and smell than normal, didn’t immediately occur to her. Izabel forced her limbs into action. But the relief she felt at finally getting her limbs to move was short lived, because her hands and feet seemed to encounter a soft but dense wall at the same time. Her panic was on the verge of becoming a full blown attack when she suddenly remembered her last conscious thought.

  Detox.

  She had attempted an unauthorized detox. The foul liquid that was blinding and choking her was amniotic fluid and the soft dense walls encompassing her had to be a detox cocoon. She pushed gingerly out at the cocoon walls. She could feel the soft flesh squishing between her fingers and toes. Even though the walls had the elasticity of spandex and the density of rubber, she knew they if she kept pushing and stretching eventually the cocoon would burst open. The urgency she felt moments before was replaced by calm determination as she began pushing out with all four limbs. She pushed until her muscles burned and quivered with fatigue. Then she relaxed her limbs and tried rocking side to side in an attempt to get the large cocoon to roll. It didn’t budge. But she didn’t let that discourage her. She continued her attack on her flesh prison. Alternating between pushing, punching, and kicking at the slimy walls until she could barley lift her hands and feet, and rocking and twisting from side-to-side. Blind and choking inside a husk of skin was a recipe for insanity, so Izabel continued her path of escape at a frenetic pace. She didn’t know how long she kept at it, but her first inch towards freedom came when her left foot bursts through the wall of the cocoon. The amniotic liquid rushed out of the newly created hole, dropping the level inside the cocoon down below Izabel’s eyes. She blinked rapidly and shook her head trying to clear her vision. It was still dark inside the cocoon but she was no longer blind. The walls of her prison were semi opaque. She withdrew her foot to allow more liquid to flow out of the hole and then she kicked at the hole with both feet. She did it again and again. The hole widened and the level of the liquid inside the cocoon fell below Izabel’s chin. She coughed and spit and gasped in air. It was stale and tainted but her oxygen starved lungs didn’t care.

  Suddenly, the walls around her began to ripple. The wave started on the bottom of the cocoon and worked its way to the top. The rippling seemed to be thinning the outer-skin of the cocoon somehow, because now Izabel could see light and blurry shapes outside the cocoon. Then the rippling was replaced by a trembling, as if the cocoon was suffering a seizure. Izabel smiled because she’d learned enough about detox to know what was going to happen next. She braced herself against the walls. The gooey flesh swallowed her bony shoulder. The cocoon rolled and Izabel rolled with it. She bounced around inside the sac of flesh like a pinball. Eventually, the cocoon rolled to a stop against something hard. Despite being dizzy and exhausted, Izabel laughed. She was nearly free. The cocoon was on the move again, rolling in the opposite direction. This time when the cocoon collided with something hard, it exploded. Fluid, globs of pus, and tatters of flesh went everywhere. Izabel’s naked body sprawled onto the floor. She lay there gasping for air and squinting against the harsh lights of the storage unit. The moisture on her body began to cool under the climate controlled fans. She sat up and everything hurt. She looked around the room to get her bearings. She spied the gold framed mirror hanging on the back wall. Thank the Gods, it wasn’t broken. She was dying to know what she looked like. She tried to stand and failed. Her entire body ached and her muscles were weak. Finally she managed to get on her hands and knees and crawl
towards the mirror. There were pus streaks on the concrete floor left by her cocoon. She was shivering by the time she reached the mirror. After she checked out her new self, the next priority would be a coat. Preferably an exotic werewolf pelt. She reached the mirror and used the stack of crates to pull herself up to a standing position. She raised her eyes to the mirror and gasped. Her scalp was completely bald. She had no eyebrows to speak of. No pubic hair either as if she’d never gone through puberty. Her body was as hairless as any slave. But that’s where the similarities ended. Slaves had deformities. Multiple eyes and limbs or none at all. Izabel had emerged from detox with the same amount of limbs and eyes she had gone in with. Only now her eyes were crystal blue and her body wasn’t as slender and elongated as it was before. She thought her new bone structure was closest to a dry Mermaid, slender, but not lanky. Slaves lost all of their pigmentation and therefore their skin was deathly white. But Izabel’s flesh was completely the same as it had been before. Tears rolled down her cheeks and she laughed. It echoed in the silence. She did it! She was human. She had survived detox. She had taken the first step towards freeing the galaxy of drug addiction. But if she was going to share her secret with the ‘Verse than she needed to find that werewolf pelt before she caught cold and died of pneumonia. She had no idea how frail a human’s immune system was. With her hands on the edge of the crates for balance, she looked around for her daddy’s collection of exotic coats.

  She never found it.

  All thoughts of finding a coat disappeared when the door to the storage unit irised open. She was too shocked to try to hide behind anything or even cover her bareness. The door was encrypted. Only she could get in. Sure, lots of people could play “Guts Over Glory” but no one could play it exactly the way she did, because no two people played the guitar alike. The door opened and a familiar figure strolled in. Izabel’s breath caught and she nearly fell down. A member of the Bionic Brood stared at her with red glowing lenses. The frayed edges of its cloth wrappings waved in the cool breeze coming from outside. There was a second Bionic Brood member behind the first one. The second one was wearing a frayed hood and it was standing in front of the door controls. Izabel saw a cable running from the figure’s bionic arm to the control panel. That’s how they got in! These robotic freaks had hacked into her father’s storage unit! She remembered Roe saying that flies affected the galaxy more than these dudes. Well, that wasn’t the case anymore.