Allie's War Season Two

by JC Andrijeski

  Only a few months before they captured him, Revik and his rebels knocked out a Registry mainframe that held implant codes and registration keys that enslaved over a million seers on at least four different continents. Seers around the globe still bowed when they said his name as a result of that little caper.

  They also spit at the mention of Allie’s name, for the same reason.

  Allie, who had been the darling of the seer world herself, had risen to the role of the seer Archangel of Bad Times when she trapped and imprisoned her own mate following the op.

  For one thing, seers never betrayed their mates. It was a seer thing, and had to do with biology almost as much as custom. In fact, to do so fell so totally outside the reality of most seers that it almost made Allie a non-seer in the eyes of many of her race.

  For another thing, she was blamed, rightfully and wrongfully, for the destruction of Revik’s rebellion, which had pulled off the Registry job in the first place.

  But the truth was, Allie was furious about what the Lao Hu had done.

  Pushing thoughts of that mess out of his mind, Jon sighed, resting a hand on Dorje’s shoulder where he slumped in a leather-backed chair. Dorje, who’d had his feet propped on the security console in front of him, jumped violently, only then ripping off the headset that Jon had failed to notice under his straight, black hair.

  “Criminy, Jonathan!”

  Jon stifled a laugh, holding up his hand in apology.

  “Sorry. Didn’t see the headset...”

  Seeing Dorje still recovering, cursing a little as he tossed down the organic wire, fingering his longish hair behind his ears, Jon couldn’t help but smile a little wider.

  “...Criminy, Dorj?”

  “I lived in England for awhile...”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.” Dorje glared up at him. “Really.”

  “And?”

  “And, so...stuff it, cousin Jon!”

  Jon laughed for real, slumping into the padded seat next to him. He smiled affectionately at the Tibetan-looking seer, kissing him on the cheek. After a bare pause, Jon turned his head, looking through the one-way pane of organic into the greenish bubble of the tank beyond.

  He wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved when he didn’t see anything but curved, blank walls at first.

  Then his eyes found Revik.

  Even that didn’t dispel the feeling of unreality.

  Revik looked smaller than usual, almost childlike with his forearms propped on his knees. More accurately, the tank was a lot larger inside than Jon had realized from hearing the seers talk. Nothing like a cell at all, it stretched out large enough to be a common room, or maybe a workout room for weights and mulei.

  An irregular black shape of body and crossed arms over planted feet, Revik barely seemed to take up any space at all against the organic tiles. He leaned against the curved wall without moving, his dark head pillowed in his arms, possibly in sleep. Unable to see his face, Jon found himself left with the same inability to react to his imprisonment.

  It almost felt like watching him on the feeds or something.

  Jon couldn’t even see the collar, given the way he sat, and the fact that the floor of the tank started a good six feet above the security console. He wondered how Allie felt, seeing him in there, chained to the wall of that giant, fishbowl-like space.

  As he thought it, something in his mind clicked.

  No wonder they called it 'The Tank.' It looked like an aquarium pen for dolphins, or some other large sea mammal.

  "Any more news on what happened in Hong Kong?" Jon said. "Those gas canisters? Did anyone claim responsibility?"

  Dorje gestured a seer's no with one hand, without looking up. "Balidor said he's got someone working on it. I'm sure he'll let us know when they find something..."

  Jon watched Dorje fiddling with one of the instruments on the panel.

  “Anything else exciting?” he said casually, glancing back at Revik's leaning form.

  “No, Jon,” Dorje said.

  “He hasn’t said anything?”

  “I said no, Jon.”

  Jon gave him a wan smile. “No need to get testy about it.”

  “You know what I mean. I mean no...you can’t go in.”

  Jon raised an eyebrow at him, frowning a little. “I thought we talked about this?”

  “About you befriending murderous sociopaths in your spare time?" Dorje looked up from the panel. "We have. I believe I said...don’t.”

  “No,” Jon said, feeling his irritation spike a little. “About you reading me for things without asking. About you knowing things I should be telling you instead.”

  “I don’t have to read you, Jon. Not when you sit right next to me and think like a loud American in my ear,” Dorje said grumpily, pointing at his own ear, the one facing Jon. “Not reading. It’s listening. An inability to shut out a loud sound that is right in my ear...”

  Jon laughed, unable to help it. He swatted his arm. “An American, huh? Sure that’s not code for worm?”

  “Not all worms are so loud.”

  Jon swatted him again, smiling. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

  Dorje looked him square in the eye. “No, Jon. Absolutely not.”

  Jon deliberately thought about sex, about the night before, when...

  “Stop it.” Dorje glared at him. “I mean it, Jon...it won’t work.”

  Jon grinned. “You sure about that?”

  “Yes, I am sure!” Dorje’s eyes grew serious, almost pained. “Look, cousin...my love. This isn’t about your annoying friendship with that waste of space, Feigran...”

  “Come on!” Jon said, exasperated. “Feigran is getting better. Even you said so. And anyway, this is totally different!”

  “I know it is different!” Dorje snapped. “That is exactly what I am saying to you!”

  “And Feigran was pure pity on my part. Revik is my friend. Or was, anyway.”

  Dorje shook his head, clicking in irritation.

  When he looked over again, his dark eyes held a denser emotion.

  “Listen to me,” he said. “I know he was your friend. But he is a fucking killer, Jon. Not like Feigran...not even like Terian. You have no idea what you’re dealing with in him.”

  “He saved my life, Dorj.”

  “That was a different man.”

  “Not completely.”

  “Yes, completely!” Dorje said, his voice rising in exasperation. “Listen to me. He is different even than what you met as the Sword, Jon. Different from the man you met in Delhi...or in China. He is not any of those things anymore...”

  “So what is he, then?” Jon said, not hiding his skepticism.

  “He is completely lost in what they made of him!” Dorje said. “Nothing is cushioned, Jon. Nothing is left to keep any of his feelings in check. He cuts from one thing to the other without warning, without reason...and all of it is broken, disconnected. The trauma and hate, what they did to him...it comes to the surface and there is nothing he cares about...nothing, Jon! These parts of him have no regret, no conscience. I watched him, when Balidor was in there with him. He is like an animal, Jon...”

  Jon held up his hands, letting them fall to his thighs.

  “Okay, look,” he said. “I get it...he’s mondo scary. But he’s still a chained animal, right?”

  “Chains break, Jon.”

  “Yeah...and I heard from Balidor that the collar is holding just fine. He said that he tested it. A bunch of times.”

  “Yes,” Dorje nodded, interrupting him with a sharp gesture in seer sign language. “So far, yes. So far it is working. He still wants to run more tests.”

  “Yeah. Okay. But if Revik was going to break the chains, do you really think he would waste it to get at me? Lowly, loud-brained, brother-in-law? Don’t you think he’d try to get at the bigger fish...? Like Balidor?” He swallowed, shrugging with one hand.

  “...Or Allie?”

  Dorje didn’t smile, or
even look over. He only clicked to himself, staring into the tank.

  “He won’t hurt me, Dorje,” Jon said, quieter.

  “Bullshit.” Dorje’s eyes grew angry as he turned. “What the hell kind of shit are you trying to sell me, Jon? Not only are you human, but you are her brother. Why wouldn’t he see you as an extension of her...even of Balidor? If nothing else as a human bug. Worthy of extinction for that reason alone, especially with your loud mind...”

  Jon hid a smile. “And that would be different from you...how?”

  “You are my bug,” Dorje snapped, refusing to soften. “Let it go, Jon! The answer is no!”

  Jon smiled a little wider, in spite of himself.

  Dorje didn’t return it. He only shook his head, folding his arms tighter over the Radiohead T-shirt he wore. It had been Jon’s favorite shirt once, but they both decided, by mutual agreement, that it looked better on Dorje.

  Jon glanced at the seer’s jeans, and realized those had been his, too.

  “No fucking way,” Dorje burst out again angrily in his heavily-accented English. “No, Jon. And if you ask me again, I’ll have Balidor come down and have you removed from here. Permanently.” He glared at him again for emphasis.

  “I mean it, Jon. I’m not letting you in there.”

  Jon just shrugged, leaning back in the padded chair. Resting a hand on Dorje’s thigh, he sighed, staring up at the ceiling as he massaged the muscle there slowly.

  “All right,” he said peaceably. “Whatever you say, Dorj.”

  “It’s not going to work, Jon.”

  “I heard you, man. Chill.”

  Jon continued to massage the seer’s leg, working on the muscles he knew the other liked.

  When he still hadn’t stopped a few minutes later, Dorje leaned back, his arms still tense where they crossed over a chest that wasn’t large, but muscular from mulei. Jon saw his eyes close after a few minutes when he continued to massage him.

  Jon waited a little while longer, still working over the muscle in his leg. When he felt the other starting to give in, relaxing more, he slid closer to him. The seer winced, but didn’t meet his eyes, or push his hand away. He sat there, silent, as Jon worked his way up his leg. After a few more minutes, Dorje made a low sound, even as his breath came harder.

  “You’re a bad man, Jon. Even for a human...”

  “It didn’t seem like you minded all that much.”

  “I mean it. Not cool, Jon.”

  Dorje’s long fingers gripped the other man’s shirt though, pulling him closer.

  “I know,” Jon said, grinning. He kissed Dorje’s neck, then his mouth. He lingered just long enough that the seer followed him when he raised his head.

  “I won’t forget this,” the seer added, short. “It’s taking advantage, Jon...taking advantage of what I am...”

  “Like you do, with the seer super powers?”

  “This is different. This is personal...”

  Jon smiled. “Whatever you say, cousin.”

  “I mean it, Jon. Things will not be cool with us, if you keep doing this...” Dorje’s voice dropped off as Jon reached for his belt. It grew husky as he closed his eyes, fighting to control his breathing. “...Goddamn it. I hate it when you do this. You know I do...”

  “I know,” Jon murmured, still watching the other’s face. “You’ll forgive me though, cousin.” Kissing him again, he smiled a little, knowing he’d won when he recognized the glazed look he could see forming there.

  “Maybe I won’t. I won’t forever, Jon.”

  “Yes, you will,” Jon said. “...Forever and ever, cousin.”

  DESPITE WHAT HE’D said, Jon entered the tank cautiously.

  Pushing his way through the heavy green portal, he waited until he heard the lock click as the seal set against the dense organic wall.

  He knew Dorje stood at the console...that he probably ran there after he locked the door behind him with the keypad and the pressure-sealing wheel. Jon also knew he likely stood with his hand poised over the gas contingency, cursing both of them under his breath. The gas had been one of the first safety features Balidor had ordered installed. Anyone messing with the door who didn’t have the right pass-key triggered it. Anything breaking the seal of any one of the chains around Revik’s limbs triggered it...at least if the breach hadn’t been authorized in the system through some elaborate Barrier and physical key process.

  The collar malfunctioning triggered it.

  The collar breaking its seal triggered it.

  The chains breaking any element of their connection to the wall triggered it.

  Every single person comprising the security team could also manually trigger it, either via voice command in their headsets, a VR trigger, or a Barrier impulse. They also had a sequence that could be hand-keyed into the console itself.

  According to Allie, the gas released following the trigger was no joke, either.

  If he did get gassed in there, she warned him, he’d likely sleep for a few days, and wake up with a hell of a hangover...at least once he’d finished barfing up whatever acid remained in his stomach and had recovered from the painful diarrhea.

  It could even kill him, but she said it was pretty unlikely.

  Pretty unlikely Jon thought to himself now.

  Smiling at the phrase, he shook his head a little as he glanced around the inside of the tank.

  It was such an Allie-esque type of reassurance.

  But when it came to Revik and drugs, they didn’t screw around. The guy had a tolerance of some kind that made drugging him almost impossible, at least using normal doses and mixtures. Balidor theorized that Menlim was behind that, too...that he’d done something to train Revik or fortify his immunity to resist any kind of drug that might incapacitate him.

  Jon had a feeling all of their precautions would be moot if Revik ever really got free. He’d seen him fight from the verge of death before, and it had been terrifying.

  Taking another step deeper into the green-walled space, Jon glanced around again briefly at the room's proportions. Despite the tank’s vast size, Jon found himself reminded uncomfortably of the cell where Terian kept them in the Caucasus Mountains. Taking another breath, he fought to relax. Once he had his heart rate under control, he edged a little further away from the door.

  Revik didn’t seem to have seen him yet.

  At first, Jon even wondered if the Elaerian was sleeping.

  His head slanted sideways against the organic green wall, showing his profile in sharp, black and white relief. The jade green walls made his skin look paler, his hair blacker. Under their odd, shimmering glow, the chained seer stood out as the only thing that seemed to be sitting still. Jon studied that glow briefly, reminded of what Allie had said again, that the walls of the tank were somehow more alive than most organics.

  They’d been feeding him...a lot, Dorje confirmed, to support Poresh...but Revik had lost weight. His features were taking on that more angular, hunted look that Jon most associated with his friend's face.

  In fact, how he looked now was still how Jon saw Revik in his mind. That was in spite of the fact that Revik himself hadn’t really looked much like that for the past year or so. While leading the rebels, he’d buffed himself out...made himself into a kind of walking muscle squad with Wreg, his second in command, and some of the other fighter seers he had working for him.

  Jon even wondered, once or twice, if he’d done that in part to impress Allie.

  Or maybe just to shake an image of himself he didn’t like. Allie told him once, that despite his height, Revik had a bit of a thing about being small. He’d been small as a kid. He’d been teased for it, beaten up for it, bullied for it, ridiculed.

  Jon could relate. His childhood had been pretty similar...and he’d started training in martial arts for almost identical reasons. The fact that he was gay only made the necessity more pressing. Even in San Francisco, he’d had to deal with idiots.

  Wreg, who’d known Revik as he was stil
l climbing out of adolescence, even called him “runt” occasionally...although always with affection, and despite the fact that Revik now had a couple of inches on him.

  Allie said Revik flinched every time Wreg said it.

  Jon didn’t know Allie’s own preferences, in terms of her husband’s body type, but personally, he thought Revik looked better leaner. It suited his face, but it also suited what Jon suspected to be the more authentic expression of his personality. Revik always had a feral quality to the way he moved, even to his facial expressions.

  Jon took another step, moving closer to the line that had been painted on the floor, several inches thick and encircling the place where Revik sat. He’d been about to clear his throat, to try and get the seer’s attention in some way, when Revik turned his head.

  Surprise flickered over the angular features, the pale eyes.

  Right before he let out a coarse laugh.

  “Gods. They’re sending in the fucking worms, already.”

  Jon flinched, but more in surprise. He sounded almost exactly like the Revik he knew. The faint German accent in his English was thicker than Jon remembered, but otherwise, identical. He even seemed to have relaxed somewhat, seeing Jon standing there.

  Even as he thought it, Revik gave him a wry smile. He gestured at Jon’s face, his long fingers draping down from his hands on his knees.

  “What do you want, cousin? What’s this game they’ve pulled you into?”

  Jon studied his face. Once he had, he exhaled a breath he hadn’t known he held.

  So Revik didn’t see him as a complete enemy.

  Not yet anyway. Not until he gave him a reason.

  Jon shook his head, his hands still on his hips.

  “I don’t want anything, Revik. Not like you mean.”

  “Are you here to speak reason to me, Jon? Help me to find my inner human...?”