by Wesley Chu
Many Quasing were indeed very attached to their hosts. The relationship was often as close as that between a parent and a child. To kill a Quasing’s host was often the ultimate crime. That is, if the Quasing liked their host.
The threat, however, appeared to have worked on Rurik. Ella and Io did not have the cosiest relationship, but Rurik didn’t know that. His grip loosened around her neck just enough to save Ella from passing out. She collapsed into her chair and rubbed her neck, shooting bad thoughts at the asshole blond cover model.
She tried to speak, but her throat hurt too much. She looked at the pitcher of water off to the side, and then back at Rurik. It took a moment for him to register her request. He complied reluctantly, scowling the entire time. Ella took her time drinking.
You are pushing your luck. Find out what they want. We need to know what they need so we can make the best of the situation.
“Shouldn’t our goal be to escape?”
Io was again silent.
Ella smacked her lips and put the cup aside. “Io wants to know what you want with her.”
“Is that really what your Holy One wants, or are you playing a game?”
The Russian studied her for a few moments, and then finally decided that her Quasing had to be in control. His tone became more respectful. “The Genjix require services that only Io can offer. It is time she once again fulfills her purpose in service of the Holy Ones.”
What does he mean by that? What have they found?
Ella repeated the question aloud.
“It means the Holy Ones have established contact with Quasar.”
“I don’t get it.”
What?!
Io’s shock was palpable, and surprising. Quasing were not emotional beings. They understood and displayed emotion, but their bandwidth in showing them was at best restricted when compared to that of their human counterparts. Io’s reaction, however, was practically a full-throated scream in Ella’s head. A wave of emotion coursed up and down Ella’s body. She winced as she sorted through all of Io’s thoughts and feelings bouncing in her head.
Do they know we are marooned on this planet? Are they sending the Collective? Is the Eternal Sea within reach? When can we expect a carryall to bring us back into the fold? When can we expect to get off this disgusting planet?
Io peppered her with a dozen more questions. Ella did her best to parse the barrage, but they came out in a jumble. She didn’t understand most of what Io was talking about.
“What did the messages say?” asked Ella finally.
“We do not know. We are unable to decipher it,” admitted Rurik. “The message from the home world came in the form of a sub-phase signal. Like all things from the Eternal Sea, the signal is biological and requires the expertise of a Holy One specifically bred for that task. Unfortunately, Holy Ones with that ability were rare, even on Quasar. The portion of the original ship that housed the Receivers rests in the ocean basin in the Gulf of Mexico. As far as we know, there is only one Receiver left alive.”
“Wait, what? You mean Io?” Ella was stunned. She pointed at her head. “This goof in my head is the linchpin for the Genjix? She’s that important?”
Hey!
“You will watch your tone when speaking about a god,” snapped Rurik. “You didn’t know, did you, you foolish girl? The Holy One residing in your pathetic body is one of the most important Quasing alive.”
“Well then,” said Ella. “You guys better keep me happy. For starters, I would like some dinner.”
Rurik smirked. “You are a container, nothing more. All your Holy One needs is a body. In fact, Sabeen wishes now to bypass you and speak directly with Io.”
“Well, that’s too bad,” she replied. “Sabeen’s going to have to go through me to talk to–”
The open-hand slap came so fast Ella didn’t have time to steel against it. It smacked her flush on the cheek so hard she fell off the chair and would have crumpled to the ground if it weren’t for the fact that she was handcuffed and chained to the table. The right side of her face was on fire, and the room shimmered as her vision blurred. She dangled by her wrists for a few seconds, struggling to get her rubbery legs under her. No sooner had she pulled her head above table level than a strong hand grabbed her shirt and hauled her body completely onto the table. He pinned her in place.
Rurik towered over her. “You mistake your value, vessel.” He raised a hand up in the air and smashed it down on Ella’s face.
Io opened her eyes just as Rurik was about to hit Ella’s face for the fourth time. The first blow had already knocked the girl unconscious. Any more could kill her, and without a host nearby it could kill Io.
“Stop, Sabeen,” she said in a calm voice. “I am here.”
Rurik stayed the blow, and slowly released his grip around Ella’s neck. Io shuffled back into the chair. Her movements were slow and deliberate. The girl had suffered several fresh injuries from Rurik’s beating, and the pain coursing through her nerves made control of the body particularly difficult.
Rurik was still standing, almost as if at attention. He watched until Io was situated, then lowered himself into the chair on the other side of the table. He pulled out a thick piece of red rope and, in a practiced motion, looped it around his own neck. The Russian crossed the ends of the rope and began to pull. Rurik’s face immediately turned purple. A labored breath hissed from his lips, and then he slumped over.
Io was pretty sure Rurik choking himself out to allow Sabeen to take control was more a display of power than it was the Quasing really wanting to talk to Io in private. He probably realized how difficult Ella was as a host and wanted to show off exactly how much control he had over Rurik. The Genjix had historically not shown their Prophus siblings any mercy in the war, let alone actively recruit them. Something big and important must be happening.
A few seconds later, Rurik’s eyes opened and he sat up. “Io. It has been centuries.”
“Hello Sabeen. It is good to speak with you.”
That was not the truth. Io was dreading this conversation.
Sabeen continued to stare at Io for several moments. Finally, he spoke, “I believe it is time to put our petty war aside and do what is best for all Quasing. Do you agree?”
That statement was a mouthful of nothing. No Quasing argued against that.
Io played along. “I would like nothing more than to see peace between the Prophus and Genjix, and to work together to find a way home.”
“Many great things are happening among the Genjix. The Bio Comm Array has been a great success. The project has surpassed expectations and has already established a sub-phase line with Quasar. All we need now is a Receiver to translate and establish the link. Only you can save us. You will be a hero among all Quasing. Can we count on you to deliver us to our salvation from this wretched planet?”
A wave of emotion swept through Io, and she temporarily lost control. Ella’s body tilted to one side and nearly fell off the chair. Only by grabbing onto the table did Io save the girl from more injury. Damn these bi-pedal humanoid bodies. Io righted herself and absorbed the ramifications of Sabeen’s words.
“All I ever wanted was to serve our people as a Receiver,” said Io. “If I could save and return us to the Eternal Sea, then it would be my greatest wish.”
“Good,” said Sabeen. “I am glad to see that your time with the Prophus has not dulled your dedication to our kind. Therefore, I will allow you the opportunity to rejoin us. Here are my terms.”
“Terms?” frowned Io. “What happened to putting aside our petty struggles and working toward the greater good?”
“You are Prophus, a betrayer,” said Sabeen. “As far as I am concerned, you are barely a Quasing any longer. For that, you must pay penance and earn your way back to the fold. If you want to see our home world one day, bathe in the warmth of the Eternal Sea and regain your standing, you will swear your allegiance to me. Your work will fall under my ownership. From this moment
on, I absorb all of your standing. Is that clear? Our glories and earned achievements will be shared.”
Io was stupefied. She had thought Rurik’s claim of Ella being property a poor choice of words, but now she realized how exact and serious the man was in his phrasing. “How can you offer this? This is not our way. This is slavery. No Quasing has claimed the barbaric ownership of another since the early days of the Eternal Sea.”
Sabeen shrugged. “It appears humanity’s taint has rubbed off on all of us over the eons. And you may not, but I still intimately remember the mighty Receivers ordering the rest of us around as if we were your lowly subjects. Have you forgotten, Io?”
Back on the carryall that had brought them to Earth, Sabeen was part of the cleansing contingent responsible for keeping the membrane of the ship clean from space debris. It was a responsibility for a Quasing of the lowest standing.
Io, on the other hand, as a Receiver, was responsible for maintaining the communication link to the greater Quasing cluster. It was an important and difficult responsibility, reserved for only the most accomplished and perfectly-bred Quasing and one near the highest standing. Their positions could not have been farther apart. That had been the case then, and it seemed the case now, although the tables had turned.
The two had met a century after the crash, when the remnants of the main section of the ship were still trying to get organized. Sabeen was part of the contingent that wanted to explore the planet while Io and many of the other elites wanted to stay on the ship to try to either repair it or reestablish communication. The two had personally butted metaphorical heads, and Io, as she was wont to do back then, had flaunted her standing quite badly in Sabeen’s face.
In the millions of years since the crash landing, after all hopes of reestablishing communication with the home world had been shattered, Io had failed to find her place on this world, while Sabeen had found a purpose other than cleaning ship hulls. Now Sabeen’s standing put him steps away from being on the Genjix Council, while Io had somehow ended up near the bottom of both organizations.
“That was a long time ago,” said Io. “We have all been changed by this planet. What happened to working toward the greater good?”
“If we are to return home,” snarled Sabeen, “I intend to do so with my current standing intact. That means I will be the one who receives the standing for getting us home.”
“And if I refuse?”
Sabeen shrugged. “You will not. In the end, when we return home, you will lose nothing. You will still be a Receiver. Not all of us will be so lucky. To be a Receiver, even without the glory of being the Quasing’s savior, is still better than who you are now.”
As much as Io hated to admit it, Sabeen was right. Every fiber in Io’s being pleaded with her to just accept Sabeen’s terms. The allure of being able to do her job again, of returning home, of being free from the need for hosts, was too great. It was a painful dream she had long thought dead.
To be done with this planet and end the constant cycle of failure. To once again operate as a Receiver. It meant more to Io than she could possibly imagine. The thought that she may actually see the ringed skies of Quasar again hit her so hard, Ella’s body wept. It was more than Io dared to hope. All she had to do was say yes. She could begin her work immediately. Everything she had lost could once again be hers.
“I see by the look on your face,” said Sabeen, “that you wish for this as much as the rest of the Genjix. This is your chance to save us. Not only the Genjix, but the Prophus as well. Once they learn that we can go home, this silly war with these primitive beings will finally end. You can be the final cure for the violence that has plagued our people.”
Still, the terms Sabeen offered were too barbaric to accept. Io had to show her resolve and negotiate better. “You overplay your hand, Sabeen,” she said. “I am willing to recognize that you play a small part in returning me to my important purpose, but you need to recognize that I am the last Receiver. You need to agree to my terms.”
Sabeen leaned forward in his chair. “Or I can kill your host. Lock you away in a dark, tiny bottle of ProGenesis, and let you think it over. I will open you up once a year to see if you have changed your mind. You may not in the first year or two, but what about after a decade, or a hundred years?”
Sabeen stood up and headed for the door. He opened it and looked back. “I do not know if your relationship with your vessel is as close as she claims. If you do value her, you will accept my terms. Otherwise, I guarantee you she will be dead within days. I give you some time to consider my offer. We leave for China in a few hours.”
The door slammed shut with a heavy click, leaving Io alone with her thoughts.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Finding Ella
Nabin’s once guiding and calming presence began to lose its influence. The few times he was able to visit, they bickered constantly. The honeymoon was over. The rose-colored lenses were off, and both began to see the other for who they were. The faults and imperfections showed.
Nabin considered her wild, ungrateful and out of control. Ella accused him of putting his work above her. They were both correct. He demanded she change her ways. She rebelled at his authority. Their fights worsened. Both thought the other in the wrong. Neither was willing to see the other’s side.
And where was I during all this?
I encouraged it.
It was raining, because of course it would be the one time Roen and his team had to squat outdoors for a few hours. His knees were acting up in the worst way. If he had any advice to offer the next generation of Prophus agents, it would be to do whatever it took to save their knees and ankles.
He glanced up at the warehouse attached to the rear of the pachinko parlor and averted his eyes from the main street where the constant assault of flashing lights threatened to send him into a seizure. The entire team was here, save for Asha, who was on the roof of the building across the alley in a sniper nest.
Ella’s friends, who for some weird reason called themselves the Burglar Alarms, were here as well. The group had led his team to the yakuza base and was now crouched behind him with their golf clubs and tennis rackets. Excuse him, racquetball rackets.
Roen looked up at the dreary midnight sky; the light drizzle that had been teasing them for the past hour was turning into something more. He pulled his jacket tighter around his body. He could be on The Basskicker kicking some bass on the open waters with Jill right now. Soon, very soon.
He caught sight of a silhouette scaling a drainpipe and skulking across the roof of the warehouse. The shadow disappeared from view, and the comm buzzed a few minutes later. “I’m on top of the skylight looking down at the main area of the warehouse. Two floors with catwalks lining the edge. Offices up front on the second floor. Large garage doors in the back. There are rows of equipment lining the center area. Looks like old arcade and gambling machines.”
“How much activity?” asked Roen.
“We got a full house, boss. I count fifteen easy at first glance. Who knows how many more are upstairs and in the loading dock.”
“Outnumbered three to one isn’t my idea of a good time,” said Hekla.
“It gets worse,” added Nabin. “From what I can see, they’re heavily armed.”
“Attacking an enemy position while they’re on high alert,” muttered Pedro. “That’s just great. We have wonderful timing.”
“Sir,” buzzed Asha through the comm, “movement in the back alley. I have eyes on two black sedans and a caravan of transports pulling up to the garage.”
The smart money was to wait out the yakuza and even up the odds, but who knew how much longer that would keep him in the rain. Roen had to watch out for his health. Pneumonia was a leading cause of death for people his age. That would be ironic. Survive almost half a century of war, die to a drizzle. In the end, smart money won out, especially when it came to the safety of his team.
“Hold until the herd
thins out,” he ordered. “Nabin, can you get closer and find out what they’re up to?”
“You got it, boss.” A few seconds later, Nabin whispered into the comm. “I’m inside. It’s one-way though. Had to shimmy through an open window and drop down.”
Roen grew more impressed with the lad with each passing day. He was competent, adaptable, and cool-headed. Nabin’s skills were being wasted running small-lance operations. He was ready for greater responsibilities, bigger and more important things. Some Quasing should have claimed him long ago.
He signaled to the team to creep closer to the warehouse to provide support in case things got hot. Hekla took lead, and they crept single-file toward the chain-linked fence between the two buildings. Ella’s friends began to follow.
Roen put his hand out. “Listen, we appreciate your help, but we’ll take it from here.”
“Ella’s our friend,” the one named Daiki said hotly.
“You’ve done a lot already, but those are armed thugs in there. This isn’t a game.”
“You can’t just leave us out here,” said Pek. “It’s raining.”
Wasn’t that the truth.
Roen admired their loyalty and courage, but there was no way in hell he was going to let a bunch of kids wielding gym equipment into a hot zone. He decided to make something up. “If you’re keen to help, we need to cover all the escape routes. There’s probably a passage to the storefronts, so we need someone stationed there to stand guard. We’ll need a few more watching the sides and back as well.”
“I’m not old enough to go into the pachinko parlor,” whined Daiki, one of the younger ones.
“Another reason why you should be home and studying,” muttered Roen under his breath.
Lee raised his arm. “I’ll watch the parlor.”
“I’ll go with you,” added Kaoru quickly, clutching his hand.
“I guess I’ll watch the side door,” said the tattooed guy, Hinata.
“No fair,” Pek huffed. “There’s cover there from the rain.”