Essence: Book 1 - Septima

by Nick Braker

  Troy stared at her, trying to gauge whether she spoke the truth. His body continued to tremble with the exertion of standing. He struggled to focus on Septima through the rage centered on Cienna. He wanted to choke that bitch out. His blood boiled but it wasn’t enough to offset his fatigue nor the pain coursing through him. His legs shook and wobbled beneath him. Troy couldn’t fight it. He fell backwards onto the couch. Septima sat down next to him.

  Damn, I do trust her. What’s wrong with me? I can’t trust her.

  “Who are you people?” he asked, taking several deep breaths and trying to calm himself.

  The spinning room slowed and finally stopped, though his head still pulsed as if the dart from his youth was still buried in the bone.

  “Pirans,” Cienna interjected. “We are very similar to your species.”

  “That really doesn’t tell me anything,” he said.

  “Genetically, our two species differ very little,” Septima added.

  Troy’s breath came in quick, shallow gasps as tendrils of pain coursed through his body. He forced his body to relax, remembering his techniques for controlling his fears. He tried to maintain his control, but every time his eyes landed on Cienna, his anger detonated over and over inside him. Troy rubbed his head trying to ease the pain her presence caused him.

  “Troy, we don’t have much time. Brice or others may visit and if they find you...,” Septima said.

  “They’ll do to me what I saw you do to my friends?” he asked. “Who is Brice?”

  “Yes, they will,” Cienna told him. “He’s our commander. He leads the S&Gs and this base.”

  “S&Gs?”

  “Smash and Grabs,” she continued. “A term we use when we project off planet, extract the essences of another species and then smash the evidence that we’ve been there. In other words, you and everyone on that train are now believed dead, having died in a horrible train wreck.”

  Troy stood again. His legs shook. He wanted to kill her, but he knew he’d fall. He teetered back and forth before bracing himself on the couch. Septima stood too, grabbing his arm and holding him upright. He gave up and instead glared at Cienna, his body shaking further.

  “What’s wrong with me?” Troy managed.

  “Several things,” Septima told him gently. “The dampening field, the fight you were in, the projection back to Pira, and probably the medicine I gave you.”

  Troy fell backwards again, then shifted himself slowly to lay back down on the couch. His muscles, joints and his skin - all of it hurt. The knowledge that his friends were dead increased his misery. It overwhelmed him, compounding his fatigue. Troy couldn’t let that stop him, he wanted to fight back but a small part of him knew he’d already lost the battle.

  “I’m cold,” he whispered.

  Troy’s eyes drooped. Septima grabbed the blanket from the floor and covered him up. She tucked the edges in around him.

  “Not surprising, it’s winter here and we don’t have a lot of extra power for heating like we would want,” Cienna said.

  “So,” Troy whispered again. “I guess the question hanging in the room is why did you treat me differently?”

  Troy yawned. Septima looked down, blushing.

  “You look like someone I once knew,” she said softly.

  “And she risked a great deal doing it, I’ll add,” Cienna said, her annoyance certainly directed at Septima. “Though it is quite obvious you look exactly like him and you have much of his mannerisms. I’d swear you were him if it weren’t for the fact--”

  Troy drifted off to sleep.

  ____

  Pira - The next morning

  The soft, toasty bed felt wonderful. The chill in the air around him tried to seep in, but the blankets easily fended off the cold. Troy opened his eyes. He paused, looking around. This wasn’t his room. It wasn’t some girl’s room who’d taken him home for the night. It wasn’t a hotel in New Orleans after a long evening out drinking. No, this was a bed, in a room, in a building, on a planet, in a solar system light years from his real home. Troy laughed inside.

  Yeah right.

  Had he passed out? If so, for how long? The last thing Troy remembered was Cienna talking about Septima possibly getting herself in trouble saving him from the extraction process.

  Whatever the hell that meant.

  Troy shook his head. What happened last night? He didn’t remember going to bed. The two of them must have carried him here. He didn’t remember dreaming but he did feel rested.

  She had also used the word project. She had to be lying. Sending people across vast distances was impossible but what if she wasn’t lying? That meant their technology was superior to Earth’s and that also meant an advanced medical science. Septima said she’d given him some medicine and Troy did feel much better. Maybe they weren’t lying.

  Holy hell, this can’t be happening. I have to be dreaming.

  The semi-dark room had the same gray-blue metal walls. The bed he lay in and the small end table next to it completed the room’s contents. The only other remarkable features were a picture frame, face down, and an embedded light source in the wall above it. The bed sat in the corner of the room. Was it Septima’s bed?

  Troy rolled out of it, keeping quiet. His jumpsuit felt awkward and it left his feet exposed. He cringed as the cold metal floor sapped the heat from his feet. Several rugs, roughly two feet in diameter, dotted the floor. Troy stepped quickly onto the closest one, his feet already warming. Two paths of rugs led from the bed to the only two doorways in this bedroom. The doorway to the left of the bed was open and obviously a bathroom but the other pathway went along the bed to a closed door.

  Troy heard muffled voices seeping through the closed door. He craned his neck, listening. He couldn’t make out what they were saying from here. Troy crept closer to the door, making sure to walk on the rugs. He wanted to find out who it was and what they were saying. He moved closer. The door slid open. He suppressed the urge to jump back.

  “Oh,” Septima said, sitting in the chair. “You’re awake. Good.”

  “Well, girl,” Cienna said, snickering softly. “I need to get going. You two have a lot to catch up on.”

  Septima glared at Cienna, though it went unnoticed as Cienna had already turned her back to leave. His lip curled into a snarl. Troy still wanted to hurt Cienna. Part of him believed she killed his friends, yet, he also believed what Septima had told him.

  “I’ll talk with you... two later,” Cienna said.

  The exit door to his right didn’t open automatically for her. Cienna locked the door as she left.

  Perhaps only the interior doors are automated?

  Septima wore a small, thin strapped, white lace blouse over an obviously black bra. Covering both was a blue denim-like vest that left her arms completely exposed. Troy’s eyes narrowed.

  Odd, the room is freezing cold.

  She wore a pair of matching blue denim pants. The only other piece of clothing was a white scarf around her neck, probably to cover the bruises. Attached to her hip was a device that looked like a large smart phone. His eyes jumped to hers. Septima’s gaze warmed him and her brown eyes seemed to sparkle. Her brunette hair reached to the back of her shoulders in gentle curly waves.

  Breathtaking. Huh? There I go again. Why am I thinking about her looks?

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, bringing him back from his thoughts.

  “Wow, I hadn’t realized, but yes. In fact, I’m ravenous,” he said, rubbing his stomach.

  Septima giggled at him, her genuine warmth and smile putting him more at ease.

  Why am I so comfortable with her? I shouldn’t be. This doesn’t make sense.

  The hair on the back of his neck began to raise. The feeling escalated. His shoulders tensed and his breathing increased. Something was wrong and this was the second time he’d felt a sense of alarm, yet he couldn’t define what it was that bothered him. It wasn’t Septima and, now that Cienna had left, it certainly wasn’t her. What
was it then?

  Don’t overreact, dumbass. If she wanted you dead... Huh? Why did I think that?

  Troy’s friends were dead. Why wasn’t that bothering him more? Did he really believe her story? Were they alive? She had assured him they were and Troy desperately wanted to believe her.

  “Would you humor me and let me surprise you with breakfast?” she asked, interrupting his thoughts again.

  “Uh, anything sounds good right now.”

  The kitchen doorway sat opposite the exit. Septima disappeared through it. The clamor of metal pots and pans filled the room, exactly like those from Earth. No special technology there. Troy examined the living room again, looking for anything unusual. It smelled neutral with no distinguishing fragrances or odors of any kind. Frankly, he expected her place to smell like flowers or incense. The lighting appeared normal, though the embedded fixtures in the ceiling and walls certainly added more credibility that he was indeed on another planet. Such lighting was not foreign to Earth, but it was rare.

  “Take a load off,” she said, still in the kitchen. “I’m sure you’ll recognize the couch. You spent a lot of time on it.”

  Did she just giggle?

  “Are my friends really alive?” he asked, ignoring the sound.

  “Yes, but it’s complicated. Can we talk about that later? It would be better to show you.”

  Troy believed her but her comment about it being complicated concerned him. He decided that if they were okay, then he could pursue a different path, perhaps find out what the hell was going on.

  “How big is Pira in relation to Earth?” Troy asked.

  “Not quite as large and certainly not as dense. I gather you’ve noticed that gravity is slightly less?”

  “Uh, actually I hadn’t but now that you mention it...”

  Strange, the knowledge of gravity being less made it feel as if it actually were less. This could all be a lie, a trick of some sort. Did he really believe he was on another planet? Hell, it didn’t matter that the room looked futuristic, or the doors opened automatically, or their clothing was different. No, what convinced him most was that she told him it was. Troy trusted her and that trust went deeper than anything he’d ever felt. Septima had saved him from Cienna and from that crazed asshole who had attacked him, but wasn’t that man a part of their group? Why did he try to kill her?

  Why do I trust her? This doesn’t make sense.

  The smell of the food interrupted Troy’s thoughts. He walked into the kitchen, making sure he stayed on the throw rugs. She had set his plate down. On it was a pale green, custard-like mixture with brightly colored pieces scattered throughout. The edges were golden brown and it smelled wonderful.

  “Breakfast is served, good sir,” she said.

  “It’s morning here?” he asked.

  Septima nodded, smiling. He paused, letting her smile warm him. His hunger demanded attention but gazing at her comforted him... the physical pain wasn’t as bad, the emotional hurt within him was less and a sense of closeness crept into his thoughts. Septima cleared her throat.

  Dumbass, you’re staring.

  “Uh, food. Yeah, food,” he said, fumbling over himself to sit down.

  She joined him. Troy ate in silence, barely stopping to breathe, while Septima watched him. The food tasted incredible. The meat was tender, the seasoning balanced just right and the texture was clean and consistent. It warmed him too.

  “What did you think?” she asked, after he had finished.

  “That was literally the best meal I’ve ever eaten. It was fantastic. What was it?”

  “Your favor--” she started to say something but changed her mind. “The names would be meaningless to you but it is a mixture of Piran vegetables, seasonings and one of our last sources of natural protein. Something similar to a quiche on your world.”

  “You know a lot about Earth?” he asked.

  “Yes, we’ve been doing S&Gs for some time, but I want you to understand something. I hate it. It’s not right. You and everyone on that train would have died though. We didn’t create the impending train wreck. We only took advantage of it.”

  “So, if you hadn’t been there, I’d be dead?”

  “Yes, you’d all be dead. We’ve been--”

  A sound from the device attached to her hip interrupted her. She looked at the display, her eyes going wide.

  “Hide,” she whispered tersely. “This way. Now.”

  Septima grabbed his arm, pulling him hard into the living room. The door of her apartment opened as she pushed him into a closet next to the wall with the couch. The closet door, still open, hid Troy from whoever was now standing at her front door. She secretly motioned for Troy to be quiet and closed the door.

  “Brice,” Septima said, turning to face the man. “What a pleasant surprise. I was doing some housework.”

  “Don’t give me that shit, girl,” Brice said.

  Troy could see the room through the slanted metallic slats of the door. The man was short with light brown hair. His jumpsuit revealed some hefty muscle beneath it. Brice had a sidearm like the ones on the train. Troy couldn’t see Brice’s face but he recognized the voice. He was the one from the train that had spoken first, but if this guy projected back with them, why didn’t he know Troy was with them and that the other male was dead? Questions and more questions. Troy needed answers.

  “Brice, what is it?” she asked.

  “I can’t find Yenthar,” he said, moving around the coffee table, standing almost in front of the closet door. “He returned with us. I checked the logs but he’s nowhere to be found. He’s not on some drunken binge again?”

  “Don’t know. Haven’t seen him,” she said.

  Septima casually walked to the couch, sitting on the end farthest from the closet. Her legs trembled slightly. It was subtle, but Troy was sure he saw it. Was she afraid of Brice?

  Wait, why would he check the logs to determine if this guy had returned? If Brice checked, then he must have looked at the updated logs from the woman named Alta.

  “Hell, since I don’t trust that bitch, Alta, I checked the energy usage. Five went in and five came back. No way she can alter that, so where the hell is he?”

  So, they had left the guy who tried to kill Septima on the train. There was no other explanation. Yenthar had to be left behind in order to bring him, keeping the count at five.

  “I’ll look more later,” Brice said. “He’s probably drunk somewhere in the lower levels.”

  Brice sniffed the air.

  “You’ve been cooking. Have you eaten yet? Perhaps I could join you.”

  What the hell is wrong with this guy? He comes in all arrogant and demanding and then switches gears inviting himself to breakfast... and why am I so jealous?

  “Actually, I’m finished. Perhaps some other time,” she said.

  Brice still had his back to the closet. Brice clenched his fists, visibly shaking and clearly angry. Was he like Yenthar? Were they all crazy?

  “You keep putting me off,” Brice said. “You know I want you, yet you keep telling me no. You know I don’t like that.”

  Septima kept her head down, her eyes staring straight at the floor in front of her and her hands clasped together on her lap.

  “That is a matter for two people to be in agreement on,” she said, still not meeting his eyes.

  “Really?” he said, stepping toward her. “You think we have to agree?”

  Brice’s tone had changed. His voice was icy now. Septima noticed too because she stood, stepping away from him.

  “I run this facility,” Brice said. “Who’s to stop me? You? That bitch, Alta? There is no one. I can’t believe that all this time I’ve given you any choice at all.”

  “Brice. Please don’t,” she pleaded.

  “I’m done waiting,” Brice said.

  Troy’s blood started to boil. Brice backhanded her, the blow knocking her down. She dropped to her knees, placing herself to Brice’s right. She had purposely put his back
to the closet door.

  Smart.

  Septima was leading him, giving Troy a chance.

  “The council will--” she said.

  “You stupid bitch. The council is inept and impotent,” Brice said.

  Brice’s groin was inches from her face as he stared down at her. He grabbed her by the top of her head, holding a handful of hair.

  “Don’t bother getting up,” Brice said. “You know what to do.”

  Brice yanked Septima’s head and with his other hand he unzipped his pants. Troy opened the door, slipping quietly out of the closet. Brice stood a meager ten feet away but that sidearm meant instant death if he didn’t take this guy down fast. Troy was so close. He would try to save her. He just didn’t know how. There was no way Troy could take Brice out one on one. Brice probably wouldn’t give him a chance at a regular fight. No, he’d simply blow his brains out like Troy did to Yenthar. Troy needed a weapon. What if he took Brice’s weapon? No, he didn’t know how to use it. Yenthar was an accident. Hell, Troy didn’t think he was the one that pulled the trigger.

  Troy scanned the room. A metal lamp near him caught his eye. It was the one at the end of the couch.

  “Brice, please don’t,” she begged. “This isn’t you. What’s wrong with you?”

  Brice laughed at her.

  Were all the men crazy on Pira?

  “There’s nothing wrong with me. I’m just tired of putting up with all of this shit. It’s time to enjoy what little time we have left. Besides, you know what? You can’t do any talking if your mouth is full,” he yelled at her. “Now get to it.”

  Troy picked up the lamp, making sure Septima could see him moving closer.

  “Brice,” Septima said, “if I do this, will you promise not to kill me? I’ll do whatever you want, whenever you want.”

  Brice laughed again. She was buying some time.

  “Depends on how good it is,” Brice said.