Havoc

by Linda Gayle

  Asheni summoned mechanized servants to take Kels to the healing room. Overcome with regret and sorrow, Sayal grasped his cold hands crossed over his chest. There was a very real possibility she’d never see him again. She took a last look at his beloved face and pressed a kiss to his still lips. Elion would want to do the same, but he stood rigidly, not even looking at his friend. His heart had to be breaking.

  Once Kels was carried off, she and Elion followed Asheni into a lift, one of the few places on the ship not crawling with vegetation. Behind her tutor’s back, Sayal reached for Elion’s hand. He took hers and searched her face. How many questions he must have. She wished she could answer them. She squeezed his fingers, then let his hand drop when the lift came to a stop and Asheni turned to them.

  “Sorush is in the garden,” Asheni said. Before the door opened, he stopped it. Something altered subtly in his placid expression.

  Sayal stilled. “What is it, Asheni? Something troubles you.”

  Thick lashes closed over the aqua eyes; then he looked at her, and she saw some of the old affection there, along with deep concern. In a low voice, he said, “Your value to Sorush is as a breeder. He doesn’t see the brilliant child you were or the beautiful female you’ve become.” He touched her face with his fingertips. “You are the result of a thousand years of diligent scientific research. Yet you are also a living being with hopes, dreams, sorrows…” His mouth twitched, and his hand fell away. “I am tied between my loyalty to Sorush and my loyalty to the philosophy of sentient life.”

  “She’s more important than any science experiment,” Elion cut in hotly. “You have to help her.”

  “I cannot.” Frustration crossed her tutor’s perfect brow. “All I can do is advise you to cooperate with him. If you can indulge him, he may let your friends live. They’re nothing to him. They’ve served their purpose. He might be satisfied to wipe their minds and release them.”

  “Wipe our—”

  She held up her hand to silence Elion. “Is there no other way?”

  He shook his head. “He’s been attempting to clone you. It hasn’t been going well. The parapsychic traits don’t carry over genetically. We’re not sure why.”

  “An empath must have a living mother,” Sayal repeated by rote. She’d had long hours of biology study under Asheni’s guidance.

  “He needs you,” Asheni said. “Your genes. You may not believe me, Sayal, but I do regret that this is your fate.”

  “I do believe you.”

  “If you don’t agree with what Sorush is doing,” Elion said, “why don’t you stand up to him? Take him down?”

  Asheni pressed his fingertips together. “He’s an elite Prime. It’s forbidden.”

  “Asheni is beta Prime,” Sayal explained. “One step below an elite, but theirs is a highly stratified society. Beta Primes are born to serve the elites. It’s more than a role. It’s in their very genes. He can do nothing else.” And she did appreciate what he’d told her. He’d given her a sliver of hope for Elion and Kels. Even that must have gone somewhat against his ingrained bond of obedience.

  “He’ll grow suspicious if we linger,” Asheni said. “Come.”

  As they stepped out of the lift, Sayal took Elion’s hand again, uncaring who saw. It occurred to her that he’d be one of the few pure humans to see an elite Prime in the flesh. A select number of Dawn Goddesses were allowed to service them sexually, but then they swore a vow of silence. Though she was grateful she’d never witnessed it, Sayal knew that by tradition, Dawn Goddesses sacrificed their eyes after seeing the Prime, so that the image of his magnificence would forever be the final one impressed upon their minds.

  As a sacred female, her mother had been spared, as had she. Elion would not be in danger since he was neither a Dawn Goddess nor likely to leave the ship with the image still in his head. It would either be wiped or… No, she couldn’t let her thoughts travel that dark path.

  Despite the terrible situation, she wondered what Elion’s reaction might be. She knew Sorush had shown little of himself and altered his appearance digitally when he fucked her in front of the armada generals. Even when the wars had begun, it had been beta Primes who negotiated the dealings between Earth and the allies. Elion might well be the first man, at least, to see an elite Prime in person since the dawn of humanity.

  As it was, he seemed overwhelmed by the beauty that surrounded them. Sayal couldn’t help but glance aside at Asheni, who also clearly noticed Elion’s bewilderment and appeared pleased, as was she. The garden was her favorite level of the ship.

  “Do you like it?” she whispered to Elion.

  “Saints… I’ve never seen such…life.”

  All around them, great, thick-trunked trees draped with lacy sheaves of gray-green moss stretched to a ceiling even higher than that in the cargo bay. Flying creatures from many planets flitted and soared through the canopy, their wild, sweet cries resounding in the massive space. The floor soil was dense, lichen covered, littered with leaves that continued to fall in a rainbow array around their heads. Flowers of every size and color bloomed on either side of their path, and the air was redolent with primitive perfume.

  “Many of these plants came from your Earth,” Asheni explained, ever the teacher.

  “I’ve never been,” Elion said, craning his neck to catch everything. “I’ve read about it, though. Amazing…”

  It would take a lifetime or more to know every corner of the garden. Sayal pressed her fingers over her smile, enjoying his astonishment. But her smile faded when she saw movement at the end of the path. Sorush. They approached, and Asheni dropped his chin in a respectful bow.

  Elion abruptly startled, and his eyes nearly fell out his head when he saw Sorush. Well, the reaction was what she’d expected. “Saints below,” he muttered. “No one ever mentioned the fucking wings.”

  Smiling drily, Sorush flexed his massive pinions so that the shimmering black and gold feathers spread behind him in an impressive display. Out of long habit, and because even after all these years, the Prime intimidated her, Sayal folded to her knees and pressed her forehead to the ground, thumbs and forefingers touching to form a flat triangle in front of her on the soil.

  “Rise, Sayal,” Sorush said dismissively.

  She lifted her gaze to see him walking toward them. Every movement spoke of arrogance, supreme confidence. He glowed with golden radiance. His eyes, an even-brighter turquoise than old Asheni’s and rimmed with copper, passed over her and moved to Elion. He was not much taller than Elion, but his wings and his attitude made him seem much larger.

  With a snap, he folded his feathered appendages. He picked up Elion’s right hand and briefly examined the fingers, the ones that had been burned off and replaced. “Mine,” he said. He ran his hand over Elion’s wounded side. “You’re damaged.” He glanced at Asheni. “Why has he not been healed?”

  “Forgiveness, lord. I thought you would want to see him first. There is another companion in the healing room now.”

  “Good.” But Sayal could tell the Prime was distracted. He touched Elion’s face and his hair. Poor Elion stood like a stone. She’d been told by her mother that the first time seeing Sorush was like seeing a god from the ancient Earth religions, a soul-staggering experience. “Golden hair,” Sorush murmured. “Rare. I’ll have your DNA. Perhaps we can blend it with Sayal’s. Wouldn’t that be spectacular, Asheni? Golden empaths. Golden angels. They’d be worth a fortune.”

  “Yes, lord.”

  He ran his long-fingered hand over Elion’s chest and put his face close to the mate’s. “You’re angry. You fear for her life.” He had a deep, rolling voice that was almost musical, but the arrogance that tinged it destroyed any pleasure that may have come from hearing it. He narrowed his turquoise eyes, and Sayal hated him. He toyed with Elion. “She’s safe. And perhaps you as well.”

  He spread one wing and curled it partway around Elion’s shoulder. Despite being filthy, wounded, and furious, Elion had clearly caught
his interest. Sayal swallowed hard. This could be very bad. If Sorush decided to keep him, Elion would be as much as a slave as she, even more so. Perhaps Sorush would even insist he give up his eyes.

  “Lord,” she said, still crouched and bowing, “I am pleased to have returned to serve you.”

  The Prime moved from Elion to stand in front of her, as she’d hoped. “Ah, Sayal… I knew you would. But haven’t you really come here to kill me?”

  Shock jolted through her. She pressed her head farther to the ground and almost denied it. But what was the point? The Prime would know. “Yes, lord,” she said, her voice a whisper.

  “You always were a disobedient child. Rise, Sayal. I won’t ask again.”

  She did, keeping her gaze on his beautifully formed bare feet when she did.

  “Where is her garment?” Sorush asked Asheni.

  “Here, lord.”

  Even with her head bowed, she knew Asheni handed Sorush the golden collar.

  “Remove that clothing.” An undercurrent of distaste colored his flat tone. Without question, she stripped out of her clothes and stood before him naked. He approached her and fastened the collar around her throat, then slid his hands over her arms, her breasts, her hips. Though she fought it, sensual heat blossomed in her deepest places, swelling her sex, tightening her nipples. When he stood this close, she couldn’t help but see his penis, as finely formed as if it had been chiseled from stone by a master sculptor. In every sleek, muscular inch, the Prime radiated perfection, and she hated him perfectly.

  He took her palm and placed it over one of his twin hearts. “Now, kill me, Sayal. Slay your creator.”

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  Chapter Fifteen

  She wouldn’t do it. She couldn’t.

  Watching her, Elion knew Sayal wasn’t going to kill Sorush. Breathing heavily, she closed her eyes and turned her head aside. He couldn’t blame her. Who could destroy such a creature? It wasn’t that he’d fallen under the Prime’s spell, but crack and ruin, he couldn’t help but be astonished. What a monster, a figure from myth and fairy tale. An angel from the ancient religions sketched into reality.

  Beautiful and pitiable in her nakedness, her biolume tat flaring along her spine, Sayal hung her head. Elion dug his nails into his palms. The collar of beaten gold and jade ringed her neck, and he would’ve liked to rip it right off. She belonged to no one but herself. Unfortunately he couldn’t do that any more than he could kill the Prime himself, and time was wasting.

  Whatever small opportunity they may have had was slipping from their fingers. He had only the vaguest idea of where Kels might be. He wasn’t sure they could even find their way back to the Nova. The only weapon he had on him was a booster full of Dimextrin, which he wasn’t certain would affect the Prime, but it was the only thing he figured he could smuggle onto the ship on such short notice.

  Time and fate solidified around him like an imprisoning wall. He had to do something soon.

  In defeat, Sayal’s hand slipped from the Prime’s massive chest. Aside from wide bands on either forearm, the alien was naked as well, each muscle defined and perfectly proportioned. Of course Elion’s gaze strayed to the impressive cock, but instead of desire, revulsion swept through him. He’d sooner let a Quitza fuck him. But he could see the alien flipped on Sayal, and it was also clear she didn’t like the feeling.

  During her time here, she must have been little more than a servant to the Prime, a submissive. Only she didn’t have a true submissive’s nature. That would be Sorush’s undoing. He underestimated her, but Elion knew her courage. He also knew she felt his emotions through their bond. Concentrating, he tried to transmit all his love and faith in her, for whatever it was worth. Even if it was the last living thing he did, he hoped it would be enough to carry her through.

  Sorush gazed upon her with impassive eyes. “Yes, be humble. Beg forgiveness of me, for I am a forgiving lord.” He slid his hands through her long hair. “Foolish child. I ask only for your love, complete and utter, for you shall have no others before me.”

  Just as Sayal looked as if she’d sink to her knees again, she shook her head. She raised her chin and said, “I don’t love you. I never loved you, and I never will. You’re hideous, evil.” She stepped back and dug her fingers between the collar and her throat. With a sharp wrench, she tore it off and threw it at his feet. Elion wanted to cheer.

  Sorush’s palm cracked across her cheek, spinning her. The alien roared, terrible in his sudden fury, and hauled her up by one arm. “What is this? What is this on your back? You’ve polluted your perfect genes with bioluminescence. You’re ruined!”

  Elion surged toward the Prime, the Dimextrin booster raised like a blade. He swung it down—into Asheni’s chest. The tutor had dived between him and the elite Prime, taking the shot. He threw Elion away from him with amazing strength. Elion landed on his shoulder and rolled over the soft moss, then regained his feet swiftly.

  Sayal cried, “Asheni,” but it was too late. The stim must have jacked the old fellow’s heart, for he staggered, mouth open, and fell stone dead. Ah, if only Elion had had two of those…

  Sorush’s face twisted into a nightmare. He pointed a long finger at Elion. “For that you will suffer. For polluting my creation, you will die.”

  But before Sorush could get off a fireball or whatever the fuck he intended to hurl his way, a high, rolling wail pulsated through the garden. Whether it was on a tiny swiftcraft or a giant liner, Elion knew an alarm when he heard it. Sorush touched his wristband, and an accented voice spoke in some other language.

  Elion ran to Sayal’s side. The Prime turned blazing eyes on him where he crouched beside her. “An intruder. Interesting.” His tone burned with restrained savagery. “Pray the ship survives, for her sake. You’ll never leave it alive.” He spread his wings and sprang into the air, stirring great gouts of wind and leaves as he flew off to some unknown destination.

  “Neither will you, you fuck.” He hauled Sayal to her feet and got her moving toward the door they’d come in by.

  Sayal gripped his arm. “We can’t get out that way. He’ll have sealed it.”

  “Are we trapped?”

  She looked around wildly. “Perhaps not. This way.”

  They fought through vines and closely grown shrubbery to work their way toward the back of the garden. It was surreal. He could be on any old forest planet. To think they were on a liner in the deeps of space—it boggled the mind. Elion pulled off his tattered, bloody shirt and gave it to Sayal to cover herself so the branches wouldn’t scratch her. It hung over her hips, better than nothing. He put his hand on her back and helped her over a fallen log.

  “Where are we going?” he asked. The siren continued to wail. It wasn’t likely to be Kels. All he could think was that Lowan had come back. He hoped it was Lowan. Saints below, he hoped it was.

  “There’s a supply shaft in the back that leads to another deck. I used to play in it when I was a child. I fit then…” She glanced up and down his rather larger body. “It might be a way out.”

  “I’ll squeeze,” he said. They staggered out of the bushes to a vine-covered wall.

  She parted the vines desperately with her hands. “Here!”

  He helped her pull apart the tenacious vegetation from the biogrid covering the wall, revealing a long-unused door. She pressed her hand over a release, and the door opened partway. Elion wrapped his fingers around it and leaned his weight into it, opening it farther. Crack and ruin, what a tiny space, barely large enough for a child of ten. But he could see it was a shaft that ran on into darkness.

  “All right. Ladies first, since you know where you’re going,” he said.

  A different alarm joined the first, a low, serious throb. Elion looked upward, checking for the Prime. “What’s that? Do you know?”

  “I believe it means the hull has been breached.”

  “If it’s true, Sorush won’t be able to fold. That’s good.”

  “E
lion.” She hesitated, about to slide into the shaft. “If something happens to me, find a lift. Look for the symbol that looks like an English letter Y. That will take you to the healing room, where Kels is.”

  “Nothing’s going to happen to you,” he said automatically, although they both knew the possibility was great neither would make it out in one piece. He leaned in to kiss her. “I’m proud of you, Sayal. And I love you more than life.”

  “And I love you. You gave me the courage to fight back.”

  “You always had it in you. Now let’s get the fuck out of here.”

  She wriggled into the shaft, and he went after her. There was no way to shut the door behind them. He couldn’t even turn his head to look over his shoulder. After a few meters, the shaft turned, and the light died. Elion felt like he was being born again, squeezed from his mother’s womb. He’d never had an issue with claustrophobia, but the walls pressing at his shoulders, making it impossible for him to do anything but inch along on his elbows and push with his toes, had him sweating and gasping.

  Crawling blindly, he bumped into Sayal’s feet. “All right, sweetheart?”

  “I can’t remember which way to go. There’s a fork here…”

  He gulped cloying, moist air. “Please make up your mind swiftly,” he said with exaggerated calm. In another minute he was going to start screaming, and that wouldn’t help their cause at all.

  “Left, I think.”

  She shuffled forward, and he twisted and writhed along behind her. Just as he was contemplating the great weight of the ship crushing him like a bothersome pimple, she said, “Here’s the door out.” She grunted. She kicked him in the face with her foot. Inadvertently, he assumed. “It’s stuck.”

  “Don’t even say that.” Sweat rolled into his eyes. “I can’t possibly go backward now. Or ever.”

  She banged on it. The shaft echoed with her effort. He still heard the alarms, muffled through the megatons of metal and soil that encroached upon them. Suddenly a gust of fresh air reached him. “Yes, I got it,” she cried.