Remeon's Destiny

by J. W. Garrett

  Simon nodded his head in agreement. “Yes, yes, that’s true. But we still need you. We need you to stand with us and fight. It will get you out of this cave and possibly closer to your sister. Or alternatively you could stay in here and eventually die from the slow, enduring agony that will find its place within your very soul.”

  Thomas looked at Simon and saw a gleeful malice-filled smile where his face had recently been. Thomas’s head still throbbed from the pain he had just suffered, and he couldn’t imagine any continuous time frame under which that torment would be bearable.

  Thomas shook his head. “As usual, you have me at a disadvantage. Where do we start?”

  “Well, at the beginning, of course,” Simon stated, as the broad malevolent grin returned. “Shall we?” With an exaggerated gesture, Simon indicated a clear path to the open door.

  Thomas knew in his heart this wasn’t freedom, only another form of imprisonment. From what he had just experienced, worse than his present confinement. Still weak and shaky, Thomas grabbed his brace from where he had triumphantly dropped it earlier and pulled it back on, locking it into place. With every ounce of his energy depleted, he knew its support would be necessary. Then, fighting the hopelessness he felt rising within, he gingerly placed one foot in front of the other and followed Simon from the dungeon.

  WHISTERLY HASTENED TO her meeting with Vinique and Arista, knowing that some of her fears were about to be realized. As she neared her antechambers, Whisterly felt the emotions of Vinique and Arista before she actually reached them. The door slid open; she acknowledged Vinique and Arista who stood upon her entrance.

  “No, sit, please. Let’s dispense with formalities. We have much to discuss.”

  “As you wish,” Vinique said, with a nod of deference. “Our suspicions have been confirmed. Riam is dead. His plug was pulled sometime late last night in the hospital. Many doctors and nurses were on duty. However, all his monitoring equipment was also unplugged, so no alarms sounded to alert those working of his distress. Once rounds were completed late in the evening, it was much too late. He had already been dead several hours at that point.”

  “I see,” Whisterly said. “This is devastating, even though we anticipated negative ramifications due to the botched mission to Earth. It’s now confirmed we have traitors among us, and I’m sure they have covered their tracks well. I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this. If they are willing to kill one council member, they won’t hesitate to kill again.” Whisterly stood and paced as she continued.

  “First, we must flush them out. It’s only a matter of time before their guard is down, and we obtain some little bit of information that they let slip through in their unconscious thoughts. Next, we must be vigilant in scanning through the maze of mindless chatter and pick up on these clues. The full council isn’t yet aware that we don’t actually have Belle to use as leverage in order to gain Stephen from the Night Dwellers. And finally,” she said, turning to face the two in front of her, “we must move the op forward quickly before this word gets out.”

  “Arista, your telepathic skill is unmatched. During the meeting carefully probe the minds of the council, without being detected, to pick up all that you can. Vinique and I will keep them busy with discussions on the elite team of warriors we have assembled for the extraction. It is imperative we have Stephen to finish our testing and finalize the preparation of the cure. This mission is of paramount importance and trumps all else. You two understand this step is the culmination of decades of work. We cannot fail.”

  “I will do as you ask, Mother. Do you think Stephen believes we would actually harm Belle? Surely he knows us better than that? I’ve reached out to him, to no avail.”

  “We know the rock formation of the Night Dwellers’ underground cave structure blocks a good portion of telepathic communication. That works for us—and unfortunately against us as well. With Stephen’s limited knowledge of telepathy, any information he gained would soon be the knowledge of the Night Dwellers.”

  “Yes, understood. But I’d like to obtain an idea of his frame of mind. He must think horrible things about us now, in addition to the lies he is being told by the Night Dwellers. He might not even come with our team willingly.”

  Whisterly nodded her head in silent agreement. “We have prepared for that possibility. We hope this mission will run smoothly with limited loss of life. However, we are committed to our goal, and we will have Stephen, even at the cost of deaths of our own. Our commitment is unwavering. You can continue to contact him with simple, basic messages. Nothing strategic can be revealed. Try something like, ‘Belle is safe.’ Remember, even if you don’t receive a response, it doesn’t mean your message didn’t get through, only perhaps that he couldn’t acknowledge it, for any number of reasons.”

  “Vinique, I need your total commitment that, should I fail in some capacity to free Belle from her current holographic state, for whatever reason, that you will ensure she is fully released back to Earth. It is bad enough that we are using her as a pawn in this vicious pursuit. So we must return her to her family as quickly as possible. She offers us no medicinal gain and is truly an innocent bystander, who we are unfortunately using as bait in this deadly business.”

  “You have my word. I fully understand. However, I expect you will complete that action of your own accord,” Vinique finished.

  “Mother, don’t even speak your next thoughts.”

  “It is important, now more than ever, to be brutally honest,” Whisterly interjected. “Vinique, you are third in line for head of the council behind Arista. No doubt malevolent powers are at work here. We have known of this uprising since the first time we attempted to bring Stephen to our planet. Plans have been put in place to safeguard the council and protect our way of life as much as possible. These plans could fail, and, if that occurs, the council must make provision for the continued survival of our race, including all the souls waiting for a cure in our hospital. This is how we differ from the Night Dwellers. We knew we would find and develop a serum to heal our people and chose not to lose others to this horrible disease in the process. We have almost depleted our resources toward this end, but, when healed, we will have a greater position of strength from which to draw.”

  “You know I am prepared to step in, should the need arise,” Vinique spoke softly. “You have instilled in both of us the strength and wisdom to carry on, and we will act as you have so lovingly guided us.” Vinique paused and met Whisterly in the middle of the room. “Just know that Arista and I are both fully capable and ready to achieve our ultimate objectives. We will succeed, beginning with determining where the weakness resides from within our very ranks.”

  Arista rose to join them. “I concur, Mother. We have fought for this day, for this chance at survival, and we’ll not stop now. We know Stephen wanted to help our people. We must continue to believe that he still wants to do so, even though he is currently imprisoned by those who don’t share our beliefs.”

  “I am comforted by your words and truly expected no less,” Whisterly said, her voice hoarse. “We now need be about the business of the council, continuing to impart wisdom and truth in our endeavors, and ongoing faith in the process that we started decades ago.” Her voice broke. She paused, inhaling deeply, then spoke again. “We’re so close. We have no other choice than the path in front us. Let us face the council together, with like minds if not differing goals for this particular meeting, and dig out and cut off the insidious contagion that lurks among us, formed not from a disease but rather from a hatred of our way of life. We must devour it.”

  “Shall we?” Vinique said.

  Joining hands, the three women raised their heads upward as they locked consciousnesses.

  “Now, let us convene the council,” Arista added.

  “Little one, after you.”

  “TAKE HIM TO get cleaned up, then bring him back to me,” Simon stated to the guards as Thomas crossed the threshold.

  First one, then the other guard
moved in on either side of him and gave support, guiding him down a narrow hallway. Exhausted and grateful for the reinforcement, Thomas leaned heavily on both men as he was partially carried down the corridor.

  It will be several hours before he will be in any shape to function, Simon thought, as he watched the two men half-carry, half-drag Thomas to the showers. Simon headed in the opposite direction, making his way to his sanctuary, where he could relax for a few hours before facing an evening of chores and training.

  His steps echoed in the empty hallway as he made his way to his destination, his thoughts racing. He shook his head violently back and forth as if this act would remove the memory of what had just occurred with Thomas. Pangs of guilt crept in and permeated his being as he relived the scene from only moments ago. He immediately discounted them. The encounter had exceeded his expectations in every way. He enjoyed having the power to control another, he realized, and he relished the thought of doing it again. It was absolutely exhilarating! He would gain new authority with his superiors now, all due to taking advantage of and exploiting Thomas.

  Far from finished with him, Simon understood he needed to carefully plot his next move so all would unfold according to their ultimate plan. He paused in front of his door, turned the handle, and entered his chambers. Austerely furnished, but comfortable, he moved to his desk where a good bit of his waking hours were spent.

  Intel from recent reconnaissance missions had been definitive. They had uncovered what was believed to be a plot to rescue Thomas. This hadn’t been unexpected; both sides had been fighting for this advantage for years. These unfolding events had thus accelerated their time frame. “He needs to stand with us,” Simon stated out loud to no one in particular. “He can’t be allowed to return to the Day Watchers. We need strong disease-free fighters.” As he made an uneasy peace with himself, he realized there was no uncomplicated way to meet all their goals as they had been laid out to him.

  First, Thomas had to remain close, while the cure was still being perfected. He would be necessary for further testing. Second, they needed him to be willing to fight against would-be kidnappers. In order for this to happen, coercion would still be required but maybe less so if he believed his sister was captive against her will. This would unite them with a common enemy, even if the statement as to Belle wasn’t actually true. With his intimate controlling knowledge, Simon knew he could direct Thomas at his own will, with only a few exceptions.

  Third, final preparations had to be made for all their faction members. Battle was imminent, and they needed to be ready, prioritizing final duties. Years of preparations had laid the groundwork. Simon believed he was uniquely born and raised for this very task. Thomas would not stand in Simon’s way. Lastly, after victory, uniting the two divergent groups would be advantageous. The previous generation had dreamed of rejoining, once again a healthy society. Much work still needed to be accomplished before this could ever occur, however. The Day Watchers’ ruling council would never be allowed here.

  So this would have to be a regime without Whisterly. The Night Dwellers had left behind that overbearing control and would never embrace it again. Simon knew he would be firmly entrenched in a position of power in this fledging society, having fully proved his worth in bringing about the healing of his race. A smirk twisted his lips. It’s all within our grasp, he thought. Someday, very soon, every thought won’t be focused on survival, and I will be in charge. Whisterly and Arista will do my bidding. Simon was pulled from his introspection by a tapping on the door. “Come,” he voiced.

  The door swung open, and the two guards entered, presenting Thomas, front and center.

  “Thank you. You may go.” Simon took a moment to survey Thomas. Still haggard and thin from his stint in the dungeon, he was nevertheless a strong specimen and notably had proven this in the fight with the guards, even despite his handicap. Now, in the light, Simon could see Thomas’s suntanned skin, presumably from regular work out of doors, and finely tuned muscles. He was not a fully grown man yet, at sixteen Earth years, but he was close. He would be a strong asset, with additional training and when fed the proper diet.

  “PLEASE SIT, Thomas,” Simon motioned, as his mouth lingered over the formation of his name.

  Collapsing into a nearby chair, Thomas sucked in his breath, as his muscles tensed in unison, and his heart raced.

  “Remember this feeling,” Simon said, almost in a whisper. “This isn’t where you want to be. When you feel that tug, that means we are out of sync, and you must follow my instruction, not fight it. It is a battle of wills, so to speak, but one you are destined to lose.”

  You sick little shit. You think I could forget? Thomas thought. Here we go again. The pounding made him feel as if his eyes would burst from their sockets, so he squeezed them tightly shut. His breath came by short wisps in and out, and he knew he had no choice but to nod in agreement. Unable to speak, he heard his inaudible reply. I will do as you ask.

  “Good, good. So glad to hear we are in agreement, Thomas. Just to clarify, our unique bond and ability to communicate telepathically means we don’t have to be close in proximity in order to, uh, correspond, if you understand my meaning. I can locate you almost anywhere, and you can connect with me as well, as you just did.”

  “I think I’m beginning to have a better understanding of your control over me,” Thomas said, releasing a deep sigh, struggling to regain his composure.

  “It doesn’t have to be that way. We can work together toward common goals. You will see that it will be rewarding,” Simon replied, his face forming slowly into a sinister grin.

  “As long as I follow your orders, and your goals are my own. That is what you mean, right?”

  “You are correct. For the foreseeable future we will need to be of like mind. Now I will show you where you can get some food. No doubt you are hungry. We will find you suitable quarters as well, and your training—”

  Abruptly the door flew open, and a familiar guard spoke. “Simon, come quickly. It is Willie. His time is near.”

  Apparently caught off guard, Simon’s countenance changed. As his shoulders slumped, he immediately looked down, shaking his head. After a few seconds he took in a quick breath of air.

  What’s going on? Thomas thought.

  Then came another stifled breath from Simon.

  Was he crying? Thomas caught a glimpse of Simon’s face, and his eyes incredulously brimming with tears.

  Simon brusquely left the room.

  Forgotten for the time being, Thomas followed at a slower pace down the passageway to the hall labeled Infirmary. He arrived at the door and hung back, surveying his surroundings. Immediately he saw visions of the compound, where he remembered the rows and rows of beds, filled with the sick and dying. It was very similar here, except most of the patients were awake and communicating. He spotted Simon, kneeling beside a bed with a limp hand engulfed with his own, and Thomas heard soft whispers, interspersed with gasps for air.

  Only a couple yards away, he could hear and see all that was transpiring. In a flurry of activity, several machines beeped and flashed, and Simon was pushed out of the way as the doctors focused on the patient. Many minutes passed, and then, without warning, the commotion stopped.

  Simon looked up to the doctor, who nodded his head slowly, both acquiescing to the unspoken fact they knew to be true. The doctor hugged an unresponsive Simon, who sat on the bed, retrieving the now lifeless hand that lay there. As a lone tear trickled down his cheek, Thomas could hear another doctor passing by, saying, “Sorry about your brother.”

  Simon nodded but didn’t speak as he leaned down and kissed Willie’s forehead, then pausing briefly, touched his forehead to his own.

  Thomas was dumbfounded by the scene before him as he realized that his captor actually had feelings, which was unconfirmed until now. At a tap on his shoulder Thomas turned and saw the guard who had burst into the room just a short time ago.

  “Come. I will get you some nourishment bef
ore taking you to your quarters.”

  With a nod Thomas turned away from the heavy-hearted scene and silently followed the guard.

  STILL MULLING OVER the recent events in an effort to reconcile them in his head, Thomas sat down to his first full meal in recent memory. His eyes were bigger than his stomach, as always, so his plate was piled high with food of unknown origin and description, plentiful and warm. Thankful, he dug in under the watchful eyes of two guards, standing several feet away. As he ate, Thomas tried to make sense of what he had just witnessed.

  The hustle and bustle of the mess hall was an unfamiliar environment to Thomas. He was easily distracted, watching people come and go, and he actively listened in to conversations when he was close enough to hear. From his limited vantage point and knowledge base, he gathered what he could. Thomas was able to nail down that Simon’s brother had been sick from the disease for many years, slowly getting frailer and frailer, as he waited for a cure that would now come too late.

  “He almost made it.”

  “Yeah, after all these years, the cure is finally close, didn’t you hear?”

  “I’ll believe it when our people stop dying.”

  “True.”

  “The vaccine is ready for trial. That isn’t the same as a cure. You know the Day Watchers are closer to an actual cure than we are.”

  Thomas inched slowly down the bench so he could better listen in on the conversation in progress.

  “It’s just a matter of time now. You heard ’em.”

  “Yes, and yet we’re still preparing for an invasion. They aren’t ready to let the subject go either.”

  “Agreed, and why should we let him go? He’s still a valuable negotiation tool. The Day Watchers need him. For once it’s us in a position to bargain. It’s about time.”

  “Don’t be a fool. Both sides have suffered untold number of casualties. Our focus should be on the race for the cure, not the human subject that we are done with. Why don’t you think with that thing on your shoulders?”