by Ciara Knight
Weighted
Copyright ©2012 by Ciara Knight
Kindle Edition
Cover art by Jeannie Ruesch
Edited by Shelley Bates
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
CHAPTER ONE
Subject: Raeth Arteres
Date: March 8, 2185
Species: Neumarian
Status: Captured
Tick-tock…tick-tock…I clutch the sides of the steel bed in my cell and push up on my elbows.
The clock, with its bronze rim, hangs high on the wall, taunting me. The long black arm of the second hand struggles up the side of the enormous disc, ticking away the last few moments of my life.
Tap…tap. Footsteps, two by two, march to the cell door. Sucking in a long breath, I embrace the rhythmic sounds of the airship, with the occasional interruption of an engine sputtering.
Tap…thump.
The Queen’s unmistakable gait interrupts my dream-like state. It matches the sounds of the ship, as if she is an extension of the heap of metal propelling us across the desert wasteland.
“Open the door.” Her voice echoes down the narrow hall.
Tick…
The hand struggles to reach the twelve. If it doesn’t make it, maybe the door won’t open. It teeters and shakes, then slides straight up in unison with the door.
…Tock.
“Be quick, before the parasite uses her curse on us.” Her raspy, artificial voice sends a quiver to my core.
A guard races in with a handheld device and points it at my neck. I’ve been collared like a dog. I clutch the slick metal ring around my neck, pulling it from my skin, but current zaps through my shoulders and my arm juts out to my side, shaking. Searing pain runs along my veins.
After all these years of my brother hiding me, it was inevitable I’d get caught.
Darkness swirls deep inside, brewing a storm. I can’t remember what it will do if I release it. Is it a gift, as my brother told me, or a curse, as the Queen believes? All I know is that if I unleash it, the Queen will have what she wants, so I push it down deep, keeping it hidden from her.
A man in a grey coat approaches with a syringe in his shaking hand. His left eye has been replaced by a bronze implant that clicks as it grows wide. I concentrate on remaining calm. “I-I see you s-still need me.” It is a struggle to speak against the rising will of the gift trapped inside me.
“Need you? I only need your wretched, cursed body. We must ensure your kind never threatens the world again. When I’m finished, you will serve me, and only me.”
Acid boils up in my throat but I force it down. The beast caged inside me longs for release.
“Make her cease that ridiculous tapping,” the Queen orders.
The guard grabs my hand and pulls me down on the bed. I hadn’t noticed my fingers rapping against the metal. My body sometimes has a mind of its own. A way of keeping me focused when my brain no longer can.
Princess Semara edges into the room. “Mother, must we—”
“Silence!” The queen whirls on her. “Do you question me, Semara?”
“No, Mother. I only wish to discover the truth about the Neumarians. It will help us in our fight to—”
“The truth? The truth is they are parasites that suck the life out of people, and no one on Earth is safe as long as they live.”
The long needle penetrates my arm and icy liquid shoots up my veins. The room spins. Focus. I must concentrate if I am to keep my secret.
“Take her to the Alteration Room.” The Queen smirks, her flaming-red hair dancing above her head and her mechanical eye widening to a pool of pleasure.
“N-no. I w-won’t—”
The Queen’s skirt billows with her movements. A cold metal hand brushes my cheek, sending a tremor down my arms to my fingers. “Tell us what we want to know, and you will be returned to your people unharmed.”
Princess Semara dances from foot to foot. Yards of red and black material sway with each step. Her eyes plead with me to tell what I should know, but can’t remember.
Or maybe I do, but am not allowing myself to.
“I know n-nothing.”
The edge of the Queen’s knuckles catches my cheek. A trickle runs down my face, the odor of my blood matching the smell of the ship.
“Take her.” The Queen stalks to her daughter. “And no lasers. Do it the old-fashioned way. No anesthetic.”
Tears well up in Princess Semara’s eyes, but she blinks them back.
“Take my daughter with you as a witness,” the Queen says to the man with the needle. “You’ll serve your Queen Mother, won’t you, darling?”
“Yes, Mother,” Princess Semara whispers. Her pale arms wrap around her black corset as if to hug her fear inside.
My stomach flops and the dark swirl inside me means to escape. I rock back and forth, trying to subdue it. “N-no, p-please. You must not—”
Thump…tap.
The Queen’s metal leg beats against the floor with every other step. Soon, I will be the same.
“Please, don’t l-let her,” I plead.
The Princess remains still, the corners of her lips arched down, marking her smooth face.
“Bring the gurney,” the grey coat yells out the door.
Squeak…squeak.
The screech of the wheels makes the hair on my arms stand at attention. Will my robotic leg mimic the high-pitched noise each time I take a step? Does it matter? Even if I escape the ship, my people will see me as a Slag now. Never again will they look at me as one of them.
Arms snake beneath me. My body lifts and lands on a coarse, white-sheeted surface. The gurney under me bounces.
“Raeth, please, you must tell my mother what your people are plotting.”
“They plan n-nothing.”
The grey coat pushes me down the hall. “Lies, that is all they do, tell lies and torment our people. They should all be exterminated.” His face hangs over mine with a derisive smile. Glaring lights fly past overhead until we turn into a room.
Doors swish, sealing shut behind us. Massive silver devices hang from the ceiling and walls. This is the Alteration Room, with all the tools of torture pointing in every direction. Why do they alter themselves, shove techno-implants into their bodies? Terror ripples through every muscle and my hand taps in a soothing rhythm.
They lift me from the gurney and strap me down to a cold, solid surface. Silver bands snap around my wrists, ankles, and head. Salty tears flow down my face and over my lips. Princess Semara wipes them away.
“Why do you fuss over her? You are a princess. If your mother saw you—”
“I only clean off what could interfere with the lasers.”
“You heard your mother. There will be no lasers.” The grey coat spins on his heels and stalks behind a wall. “Besides, I’m taking her leg, not her eyes.” A deep chuckle echoes in the room. “Not this time, anyway.”
My heart races so fast I wonder if one of the machines is pulling it from my body. I try to lift my wrists to clutch my chest, but my hands remain bound by my sides.
“There isn’t much time.” Princess Semara holds up another syringe. “This will keep you from suffering while he—he—”
“Removes my l-leg?”
“Yes.” Semara wipes a tear from her own face. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to see you suffer. Why won’t your people let us live in peace? Why do you want to harm us?” Her voice shakes and her lower lip trembles. Does she not believe her own words?
&nbs
p; The deep revving of an engine brings the blackness close to the surface. I clutch my fists and scrunch my eyes shut, trying to free my mind from the squealing sound I know to be a saw.
My body shakes and rattles the metal binds.
The pinch of a needle causes my eyes to shoot open.
Princess Semara stumbles back from the table.
My insides feel gushy and my head floats despite the restraint.
I taste something sour and click my tongue. The saw quiets for a moment and the grey coat stands over me.
He grins, revealing crooked teeth. “Last chance to tell us of the plans to overthrow the Queen.”
My eyelids grow heavy. He slams his fist down on a large orange button, and the blades rotate at a rapid speed.
He lowers the saw and I hear screams. My screams.
Then darkness.
CHAPTER TWO
Subject: Raeth Arteres
Date: March 9, 2185
Species: Neumarian
Status: Mental interrogation
Method: Experimental neuro-alterer
The Queen’s voice grounds me in a nightmare with no way out. Until I realize it’s not a dream. The sour taste in my mouth brings back the image of the Princess injecting me. The scent of machine oil accosts my nose.
“She said nothing?” The Queen rants and I hear her pacing. “No one can withstand that form of torture without sharing intel, especially not some stringy-haired child.”
“No, my Queen.” The grey coat’s voice makes me cringe, but I try to hide my movement. “There are other forms of persuasion we could try.”
Tears well up in my eyes, but I pray they don’t escape. It’s better they don’t know I’m awake or the techno-torture will start again.
My right leg is held down by a strap. No. It is weighted down by metal. Terror rises up inside me and I want to scream, NO!
I’m a Slag now.
The Queen steps closer as if to examine my body. I hold my breath. “What of her family?”
Beeps sound from a few paces away and I know the grey coat searches his handheld techno device. “She has a brother, Ryder Arteres.”
“No, you’re wrong,” Princess Semara blurts. “He was killed when we subdued the riot and arrested Raeth.”
Her voice provides comfort, but her words drop the weight of a scout ship onto my chest. I can’t breathe. I panic and my eyes open. I’m in my cell. The Queen’s back is to me, standing next to the grey coat, gripping a pistol holstered at her side. Princess Semara shoots a look of warning at me, and I shut my eyes before the grey coat catches me.
“What of her parents?”
A few more bleeps. “Both killed in the war.”
“Sometimes physical persuasion is not enough. These parasites become desensitized.” A cold, solid hand jabs at my stomach and I struggle not to flinch. “Does she know her brother was killed in the uprising?”
“No, Mother.”
“Good.”
My stomach twists and churns. Is my brother really dead? Tears escape and I hope they don’t look back.
“We’ll extract information another way. Order a neuro-alterer. Implant it with visions of her brother in trouble.”
“Yes, my Queen.” Shuffles indicate the grey coat is retreating from the Queen’s reach.
“Do not fail me this time.”
“No, my Queen.” The fear in his voice almost makes me feel for him.
The room grows quiet and I wait a moment, then open my eyes. I see their shadows in the hall. I push up on my elbows, trying to flee, but my leg won’t move. I suck in a quick breath between my clenching teeth and will myself to look down.
My eyes won’t focus. There is only a blur of gold and bronze. I reach down and touch solid metal. Silky, thick liquid covers my fingers. I bring my hand close to my face, but it’s not blood.
It’s oil.
Tears pour down my face and my hand starts to tap against my metal bed. The image slides into view and I see the heavy contraption where my leg was.
I gag and choke, but there is no food in my stomach to expel. I heave until yellow bile spills onto the floor, leaving a bitter taste in my mouth.
How can I return to my people with the one thing they hate now part of me?
“Raeth, you’re awake?” Princess Semara stands in the doorway. She scans the outer corridor before stepping into my cell. The door slides shut behind her. She raises her delicate, white-gloved hand to her nose and looks down at the floor.
“My b-brother—”
“He’s fine. I told my mother he was dead in hopes that she wouldn’t order any more torture.” Princess Semara stares at the floor. “I know I’m not a good ruler.” She huffs a sigh. “Please tell my mother what she wants to know, or she’ll cause you more pain.”
“I know n-nothing. M-my people only want to be left in p-peace.” I force the words from my mouth but my lips and throat tighten as I try to speak. “P-please—”
The door slides open. “What are you doing here?” The bronze eye seizes in the grey coat’s head, judging Semara’s presence.
“Making sure she’s awake for us to begin,” the princess says in a stony, practiced voice.
Why is she here? There is something different about her. White, perfect skin, each blonde piece of hair intricately curled in an updo. Fancy, but not one device on her…natural. I want to ask why she is different, but I know this isn’t the time.
“Guard, send in a sweeper,” the grey coat yells down the hall.
A small round device skids in and slurps my stomach acid from the floor, then disappears back into the hall. There is a gadget for everything.
He approaches and the chemical smell of the Alteration Room lingers heavy in the air. A large gold ring with silver straps across it and red wires snaking around the sides rests in his hands.
Tap…tap…tap. I cry out and grasp my upper leg. My mechanical device beats against the surface of the bed because my thigh, where skin remains, spasms.
“You like my work?” He stands over me, that mechanical eye twitching with the same beat. Princess Semara moves behind him, terror in her eyes.
“You’ll like this even more.” The edges of his lips curl with sick pleasure.
I try to flee, to push him away, but the leg won’t budge. How does the Queen even lift hers to walk?
“Don’t worry, your body will adjust. We hope we will discover new technology now that we have a lab rat.” His laughter echoes through the cell and he places the heavy device on my head.
The cold steel rests against my temples.
They’ve broken me. I can’t take it anymore, and I try to unleash the blackness.
If I’m quick enough, the grey coat won’t reach the tamer device to zap me. My insides swirl, but the darkness does not rise. A dull sting hangs around my leg, as if it traps my gift. They have discovered a way to take our gifts away. Panic seizes my lungs and I struggle to breathe, but guilt for almost betraying my people steels what little strength I have left.
A motor reminiscent of the saw, yet softer, whirls near my head. I look around to find its source before I realize it is coming from the neuro-alterer. I choke and think I’m going to vomit again, but four sharp objects pierce my skin and drill into my skull. The sound of bones cracking shakes my entire body.
“Now for the fun part,” the grey coat chortles.
****
Sand rakes across my face and the sun shines down on my skin, yet I feel no heat or coarse grains. I shield my eyes and make out the outline of the buildings of my little town. My heart soars at the sight. I want to run and find my brother, but something makes me stop. The desert—it smells more like metal than miles of nothingness. My feet sink into the sand.
Wait…my feet. Something has changed.
The metal leg is gone. Was it all a nightmare? Did I somehow wander out into the Wasteland and collapse?
My heart races as I realize that I’m walking food for the desert beasts. I listen for their soun
ds. Nothing. Not even the wind whistling.
My head throbs and I reach out to touch it, but I can’t. Something restrains me. I hear a noise and spin in all directions, waiting to be pounced on by a sermechtapede or spiderat.
“Raeth!” Someone calls from town, but I can’t see him. I slide down the dune, choking on the sand, but nothing grates between my teeth.
“Ryder,” I call. My brother will know what’s wrong with me. I struggle to see his frame in the dusty streets, but see no one.
“Raeth, hurry. You must tell me the plan.” Ryder’s voice sounds hollow, almost as if I’m listening through a tunnel.
Plan? “Ryder?” I listen for a response, but all I hear is a sort of clicking noise.
“Tick…tock.” I mimic, trying to place where I’ve heard it. Maybe a sermechtapede. I lose my footing and tumble down the dune. “Ryder! Help me!”
I hear the noise again. No, that isn’t the sound of a beast. I stop in my tracks. Where have I heard that sound?
A clock. The clock from the airship. “I’m still on the ship.”
“She can’t know this.” A voice echoes through the Wasteland like that of a deity from the sky, passing judgment down on me.
I spin in all directions, but see nothing but desert and my small mining town. Thunder rings in my ears and my head wants to explode off my body. I fall to my knees at the edge of the walk outside the saloon doors.
“Ryder,” I manage through gritted teeth, but he doesn’t come. I claw the wood planks, but I don’t get splinters in my hands.
“Raeth, I’m your brother. You must tell me what the plan is, now. Hurry, it’s the only way I can save you, dear sister.”
Dear sister? Neumarians don’t use terms of endearment among siblings. That’s a Slag thing.
My stomach tightens and I fight the thing that is hammering and twisting my brain. “Stop! Make it stop!” I cry out, but this time I know Ryder will not answer.
I steal one more look down the empty streets, usually full of women of the night and Neumarian slaves. Even though I realize it’s not real, I wish to remain. But I can’t. If I do, they may discover something. Something that I don’t remember, that they believe I know.