Seven Devils
Page 36
Third day: No improvement. Physical health deterioration. Continued leaking of darkened blood from nose, mouth, gums, rectum, eyes, ears. Patient sleeping up to eighteen hours a day.
Fifth day: Patient’s teeth loosened in mouth. This isn’t the most medical description, but they were like chalk. She keeps spitting them into the bowl at her bedside. She keeps trying to speak to me, but I can’t make out her words, and she doesn’t know how to write. I’m making her comfortable.
Seventh day: Patient deceased.
With a small sound, Ariadne hesitated before clicking the next name, but Eris nodded for her to continue. Nikolas Lasko-J-14. Age: 19 Tholos years. Patient deceased after five days in the med clinic, same symptoms but more progressed by the time he was admitted.
Beside Eris, Clo was gasping as Ariadne pulled up the next name and the next name and the next. Each case file was virtually the same, but the longest anyone managed to hold out was fifteen days.
Fifteen days.
More names—gods, thousands of them. Tens of thousands. Eventually just names and time of death, no notes. Every miner on Ismara.
Ariadne loaded Talley’s last log. He was noticeably thinner, and he coughed wetly.
None of us will make it off this rock. But I have nowhere to go. Not now.
We’re all a fucking experiment. They’re taking most of the ichor off planet—don’t know where—but they’ll come back for the rest. They’ll put me down in the mine before they go. We’ll have some automated meals, me and two of my cohort. We’ve lasted longer than the others. They want to see how much longer it will take. I suppose the Oracle will take notes as we die.
May the God of Death punish everyone who took this off-planet.
Cato stared at the projection in disbelief. “This isn’t possible.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Look, they wouldn’t do something like this. I’ve seen any number of plagues and illnesses, and quarantine is common even if it doesn’t seem contagious. But the Empire wouldn’t just leave them here.”
Nyx’s laugh was dry. “So, what, we hallucinated those bodies down there? Wake the fuck up, pilot. The Empire doesn’t care about you any more than they cared about the people on this planet. We’re all expendable.”
“Nyx,” Eris chastised. Like Nyx, Cato reminded Eris too much of what she had been like before becoming so close to Xander. Blindly following orders. Believing everything she had ever been told. She didn’t even have the Oracle as an excuse—it was brainwashing, pure and simple. “I’m going to tell you something you won’t want to hear, Cato.” She nodded to the projection, paused on Talley’s gaunt frame. “This is what it looks like when you don’t have programming to tell you what to feel and how to think. When they don’t make you forget. You have nothing to explain away your emotions, or tell you that the Empire’s reasoning is infallible. Every battlefield you ever saw had some atrocity covered up in your mind. Perhaps you’ve seen them in nightmares.”
A flicker of shock showed in his features. “No.” He shook his head once. “No. Those aren’t real.”
Like a child, Eris thought, learning the world for the first time. The Oracle kept everyone naive.
“I wish they weren’t,” Eris said. “But these people are real, and they were left here to die. You’re not dreaming this.”
Cato shut his mouth.
Ariadne cleared her throat. “It looks like there are references to other experiments, too,” she said, voice so small. “I can find the files, but it’s risky. If the Oracle activates, One could run a search on our location and find us.” Ariadne swallowed. “I could take the digipad back to the ship—”
“No,” Eris said. “The Oracle has trackers on these pads. One will know the second it leaves the atmosphere. Either we take the information now, or you waste time disabling it. Choose.”
“Okay. Save me the work,” Ariadne said. Her fingers sped across the tablet, fast as lightning. She went still as she found another list and projected the information in front of everyone.
The girl clicked the first file, labeled VESTA REPORT. Eris went numb as she read the first few lines: Ichor administered. Average survival rate: 10 days. Longest survival rate: 12 days. Shortest survival rate: 8 days. Total casualties: 5,673.
Clo’s breath hitched and Rhea reached out to grasp her hand.
Ariadne selected the next file. CERCYON REPORT. Ichor administered. Average survival rate: 9 days. Longest survival rate: 10 days. Shortest survival rate: 8 days. Total casualties: 10,422.
Close to half a dozen worlds. All of them on the outer fringes of the Iona galaxy. Small backwater planets and moons colonized by the Tholosian Empire that were rarely visited because either they were resourceless, they had restricted access, or their colonies never grew beyond the few people randomly assigned at birth to live there. They were places no one would miss.
And since the asteroid hit Charon and took out the Empire’s most productive food source, they were a drain on the Empire.
Too many mouths to feed.
Ariadne scrolled down to the last one, and Clo let out a choked whisper. “I know that one. I know that one.”
She seized the digipad from Ariadne and her hand trembled as she clicked on the words FORTUNA REPORT. The projection flashed. Clo pressed a hand to her mouth to muffle her sob. Tears filled her eyes and the digipad dropped to the floor with a clatter.
“Gods,” she breathed. “Oh, gods.”
Eris’s heart slammed against her ribs as she read the words projected in front of them all.
FORTUNA REPORT: Ichor administered. Average survival rate: 3 days. Longest survival rate: 5 days. Shortest survival rate: 2 hours 22 seconds. Casualties: 15,341. Complete extermination.
Clo snapped her head up and looked at Eris. “This is all your fluming fault.”
Rhea sucked in a breath. “Clo—”
“Don’t,” Clo never tore her eyes away from Eris. “None of you understand what she did. What she’s responsible for.”
Eris tried to keep her features even, composed. “Stop it, Clo.”
“The people on Fortuna saved me and Sher. And the Empire killed them like they were nothing.” She slammed her hand on the commander’s desk. “This mission doesn’t erase the things you did. It doesn’t make you any fucking different.”
The stares of everyone in the room burned. Eris had known the others would learn her secret eventually, but she had wanted just a bit longer before they resented her. Hated her.
Like Clo had. Their delicate shell of new friendship was cracked. Had she hated Eris all along?
“Clo,” Rhea whispered. “What are you talking about?”
“Ask her,” Clo snarled.
Eris’s hand went into her pocket. She felt for the firewolf, her talisman. “I never said I was different,” she said, ignoring Rhea’s question.
“No, I guess you didn’t.” Clo laughed bitterly. “You never even told me why you really left the Empire. Someone you cared about? Silting lies—”
“That wasn’t a lie.” Eris flinched at the hoarse, broken note of her words. Clo’s mouth snapped shut. “What happened with him—” Eris broke off. The firewolf felt like it burned in her palm. “The Empire takes everything from us, Clo. You know that more than anyone.”
“It gave you more than anyone else and you still ran like a godsdamn coward. You could have changed everything. You could have fought.”
You could hav
e made it better, a small, inner voice accused. Like you promised Xander.
“Yes,” Eris whispered. “I ran. I was grieving and didn’t know what else to do, and I regret it. Is that what you want me to say? I regret it. But I’m fighting the only way I know how.”
Clo backed away, almost bumping into Ariadne. “I don’t want you to say anything. I don’t want anything from you. You’ve already done enough.”
Clo stomped out the door, her limp more pronounced.
Eris stood in the center of the dead man’s office, as lost as she’d been three years ago after Xander’s death, Clo’s words echoing in her ears. The projection still displayed the thousands of dead on a planet that could have been hers if she had only kept her promise to Xander. All of those people would be alive.
A godsdamned coward.
When Eris glanced at Ariadne, the girl stared back with a flicker of fear. And you don’t even know the whole truth, Eris thought. You’d be so much more afraid if you did. Eris had tried so hard to atone for her former life. No matter what she did, it would never be enough. It didn’t matter.
Eris felt a hand on her sleeve. Rhea. The other woman still looked unwell, unsteady on her feet. “Give her a bit of time to calm,” Rhea said. “But let’s do it back on the ship and wait for the supplies there. This place is poison.”
Eris nodded. “Thank you.” Her hand brushed against Rhea’s as she moved for the door. “Let’s—”
Rhea gasped. Her eyes went wide, pupils dilating.
The overhead lights flickered.
“Rhea?” Eris shook her. “Rhea!”
The other woman seized Eris’s hands in a grip that was shockingly strong. Rhea’s gaze bore into Eris’s. “You have so much blood on your hands, Eris. You hurt so much.” Then she shut her eyes briefly, exhaustion plain in her features. “I can feel your grief. Ever since we came here, I can feel everything. I can’t . . .”
“Rhea, what are you talking about?” Ariadne asked. She edged forward, but Rhea held up a hand, urging her back. Ariadne shot Eris a look of fear. “We need to get her out of here now. I think the ichor on this planet is enhancing her—”
Rhea fell to her knees and screamed.
41.
RHEA
The scream echoed through every atom of Rhea’s being.
She’d felt wrong as soon as she’d stepped onto the planet. Dread had furled deep in her gut. Each step was like moving through sand, her entire body leaden and heavy. A ringing had filled her ears, as if she were plunged underwater.
Once they went into the mines, the buzzing grew worse—reverberating in her mind. It was the ichor in the walls—pulsing, pulsing, pulsing, like a heartbeat. It was different from how it’d been on Zelus. The rock there had been dampened, half asleep.
Here, on this planet, it felt alive.
Rhea was aware of Clo shouting her name. “What’s wrong with her? Eris, what the flames did you do?”
Clo reached for her, but Rhea twisted from her grip. It was too much, even with the thick material of the jumpsuit between them. She was nothing but an exposed nerve, vibrating with every one of their emotions.
Guilt. Fear. Anger. Dark, cloying. Thick enough to choke on.
Hold it, she told herself. Don’t let them see your face. Don’t let them see your face.
Rhea panted, her gloved hands digging into the floor. Gods, her hands burned—her whole body burned. The effort to keep herself hidden hurt.
“Rhea!” Clo’s desperate call came again.
Rhea looked up, and lost control. Her illusion dropped.
A release of pressure was like a coiled spring. She knew exactly what they saw; through the helmet, they could see her face or her neck: the shimmering skin, pale with dotted swirls like fractals. Glimmering in the low light, almost glowing.
Just like an Evoli.
“Oh, Rhea,” Ariadne breathed.
The girl had worked out Rhea’s secret and kept it to herself. Sweet Ariadne. Her aura tasted like spun sugar in the back of Rhea’s throat. All glittering bright colors to hide the darkness of her upbringing.
The others moved closer, but Rhea stumbled back. No, she couldn’t stand their stares, the way they all felt. She had never seen emotions in such vivid colors before landing on this infernal planet, and now they were all focused intently on her. On her skin, which burned as bright as someone from the Evoli Empire. Their feelings stabbed at her like blades to the gut: Cato’s purple wariness. Nyx’s startled orange. And Eris . . . no, she couldn’t sense Eris anymore. That made her pause. Damocles and the Archon had been the only ones she couldn’t read unless she was touching them.
“Rhea,” Clo whispered. Clo drew Rhea’s attention away from Eris. The other woman was staring at her, eyes wide. “Ariadne, what’s happening to her face?”
Clo was afraid. Her fear emanated in jagged lines, bright blue. Afraid for Rhea, or afraid of her? Rhea couldn’t tell. It doesn’t matter. It’s too late. The damage is done.
Rhea doubled over, wanting to be sick.
“Ariadne,” Clo snapped. “You have those files. Is Rhea sick like the others from the ichor?”
“Use your damn eyes, Clo,” Eris said impatiently. She gave Rhea a hard stare. “We have members of Evoli resistance back at Nova. She’s clearly Evoli.”
No, not that. You would be blessed if you were Evoli. You’re the opposite, a small inner voice told her.
Clo’s gaze felt heavy. Too much. All their emotions crawled across Rhea’s skin like insects. She kept pushing and pushing and pushing it all away—protecting herself from the jagged edges of their judgment—and everyone in the barracks physically backed away from her.
She was controlling them, offering no choice but to feel and to do as she commanded.
Rhea curled into a ball, covering her face with her hands.
“Rhea?” Ariadne. Her soft steps tiptoed closer.
Back! Rhea thought, as loud as she could. Before, she’d only been able to moderately influence emotions. Had they heard her thoughts or just the wild surge of fear, rage, and revulsion she felt for herself?
Ariadne retreated, stumbling in her haste. Dust rose from the floor of the barracks, glimmering gold in the shafts of sunlight. Everything seemed suspended: sound, movement, time. Rhea’s whole body was hyper alert, her skin tingling.
It was this place: this toxic planet filled with rock that felt alive. She wanted to go back to the ship, watch the stars with Clo, pretend everything was normal.
Someone else tried to approach, but Rhea threw her hands up, palm out. Leave. Get out!
Unable to resist the influence of her abilities, the others wordlessly left the barracks—except Eris. Eris remained by the door, her expression shuttered. A part of Rhea wanted to touch the other woman, learn more of her secrets. How could she—
No. She wouldn’t try to force Eris out with the others. If she used her abilities at all, it was for comfort, to make things easier back in the Pleasure Garden. To smooth minor day-to-day interactions. But she had to be careful. Push too hard, and she had the power to influence their thoughts, decisions, movements. It made her no better than the Oracle—just someone else to control them. Steal their choices.
She’d just proven it.
“The ichor is enhancing your abilities?” Eris asked, her voice strangely flat.
Rhea nodded. “I can’t . . . I can’t control myself.” At Eris’s silence, Rhea asked, “How are you still in here?”
“Trained against Evoli mind techniques. I have more skill than most.” Eris let out a small breath and glanced out the window. “Get it together. They’re worried.”
Rhea sensed the others outside. Their fear battered her like phantom fists on the grimy windows. They would have so many questions—and they deserved her honesty. Rhea bit the inside of her cheek. She should put her illusion back f
irst, make things easier. But when she tried, she lost control again. Did the ichor interfere? Was she still too afraid? Or did she, deep down, finally stop wanting to hide?
She squeezed her eyes shut. Think of calm, cool green. Think of lilies. Think of the open expanse of stars with Clo on the observation deck. You still have a whole universe to explore with her.
Rhea’s breath slowed. She bowed her head until her helmet pressed to the ground. She was too exhausted even to draw the illusion over her skin again. Too drained to force the others to stay outside while she tried.
The door to the barracks squeaked open.
Rhea cringed deeper into the shadows as the others entered.
“Rhea,” Clo said, her hands up as she approached. Her expression was soft, understanding. “You’re fine, Rhea. It’s okay.”
Clo gave her the courage to come out of those shadows. Rhea rose. Her hands remained by her side, gloved hands balled into fists, as she moved from the dim corner of the barracks into a patch of sunlight. She raised her head, until they all saw her face once more.
No one said a word. Rhea didn’t look away. She was aware of what they saw. Her features were the same. In every way, she appeared just as she had before, aside from her skin almost glowing from within and the telltale spiral freckles.
“So,” Clo said, voice low. “You’re Evoli? Were you a spy on Tholos?”
“No. Not exactly.” Rhea doubled over again. “I need air.”
Clo nodded and gently grasped Rhea’s arm. “Lean on me. You can barely stand.”
Everyone moved aside as Clo helped her out the door. She could taste their emotions on her tongue—especially Cato’s. His was like a blade sliced through her skin. Hatred. His or implanted? Nyx, as if sensing the pilot’s emotions, tightened her hold on him.
Rhea felt better outside the barracks. Losing the ability to hide her skin was terrifying. Her illusion had held up in sleep, during a fight, during sex—nothing had ever shaken it loose except for a conscious decision to show herself.