Out of the blackness, a metallic arm swung toward her. Beyond the halo of bright white, she saw nothing. The terminus of the arm was a set of dull, grey pinchers holding what looked like a needle. As the arm moved, the air in the otherwise silent room was filled with the low whir of a machine’s motor. The arm swung up and came slowly toward her midsection.
Erika’s pits were wet with sweat and her face wet with tears. The needle reminded her of her narrow escape from Dr. Dolan’s injection of death.
The needle plunged into her stomach. It was more alarming than painful, and an involuntary scream escaped her lips. She could do nothing but watch as the needle’s plunger rose and sucked blood out of her.
A second arm whirred into action armed with a small silver gun. Erika trembled, her head shaking uncontrollably. This is it. Though why they’d take her blood then shoot her, she had no idea. Questions no longer mattered. Answers would not be given. It was the end.
The gun did not shoot her but instead injected something into her abdomen. It hurt less than a vaccine shot. Relief flooded her but was short-lived. At first her core was cold as though filled with ice. She shivered as threads of ice spread into her veins. But the chill soon turned to an inferno as liquid fire wound its way through her entire system.
Erika writhed and pulled at her invisible restraints, but she couldn’t get up off the table. She was forced to lay and wait for the fire to consume her from the inside out. As she lay on the hard table waiting for death to take her, she wished her mom was there to hold her hand.
13
U’VOL
U’Vol quietly uncoiled himself from the arms of his first wife and slipped from their warm bed. Shree’ka moaned softly and rolled onto her back. Her belly was swollen with their child. It would be U’Vol’s twentieth. He hoped it would be a daughter. He already had twelve sons. More than enough to fight over the right to become head of the household and manage his growing holdings when he was too old to do so.
He donned a simple, everyday robe. It was red, as was the customary color for any captain of a Vree ship. Though it lacked any embroidery embellishments, it was woven from the fine, silky threads spun by the giant arachnids of Ghapta. It glided smoothly over his hairless skin and caught only slightly on the deep, silvery scar on his shoulder.
U’Vol’s long legs carried him quickly to the mach, where he relieved himself of the prior evening’s danx wine. He had only to push a button and a servant would appear to attend to him. He’d been born into the space-faring hunter subdivision of the Vree class known as the Vree’Kah. The Vree were respected, feared even, but not part of the ruling elite and did not have servants. He had ascended to captain of his own ship only four years ago, a wisp of time for the M’Uktah. He was still unused to the luxury of servants and disliked the practice of bathing and dressing attendants. He lived for years in space and on foreign lands, the head of a company of Vree’Kah. To them he was simply U’Vol Vree’Kah – Vol the Noble Hunter. Aboard his ship, the Dra’Knar, they did not stand on ceremony when bathing off the blood of the kill.
U’Vol tended his own bath and oiled himself. His fingers were slippery from the thick, pungent oil that Vree’Kah used to keep their hairless skin from becoming dry.
All too soon his legs would ache from spending days inside his krindor, but even after three years home he felt naked without it. While on hunting missions, Vree’Kah spent most of their time wrapped in the mechanized exoskeleton custom made for each of them. The graphene skin of the krindor bonded to Vree skin like a form-fitting glove and was powered by the wearer’s bioelectric energy. Vree’Kah skin was hairless so that it maintained the conductivity required to power the suit as well as the nerve impulses from his brain to issue commands to the armor. As U’Vol thought about wearing his krindor, his pulse quickened and his nostrils flared as if trying to open wider to catch the scent of prey.
U’Vol entered the dining hall of his compound amidst the cacophony of voices of his large family. The children argued and joked while two of his wives, Threka Tu’Vol and Ghozam Tu’Vol, huddled in quiet gossip. They spoke intently as though the fate of the Council of U depended on what they said. Likely their talk consisted of nothing more than chatter about the two wives not present at first meal that morning.
The lively noise died down as he entered the room. His family rose from their seats and the threkka, the lead servant serving first meal, clapped her hands and announced him.
“Welcome your badi,” she said.
U’Vol’s children, all nineteen of them, fell into line from oldest, Vrak Tu’Vol, at nearly eighty years old and soon to observe the rights of manhood, to Vij Tu’Vol, no more than eight and still suckling at night. U’Vol kissed the forehead and spoke the name of each child as was the custom each morning. U’Vol figured that the custom was created by an angry wife after a husband forgot his children’s names.
Once U’Vol pecked a kiss on each child, they waited for him to give the nod to begin eating. Sometimes U’Vol took his time with the morning procession, hovering over each child, speaking to them, catching up on their news. When he first came home from a hunting expedition, he cherished this time with his brood.
But he’d done this ritual every morning now for nearly three years. The children were as tired of his queries as he was bored with the mundane answers they gave him. And this morning he had no time to linger. He was due to speak at the Council of U by midday.
He nodded and over forty hands reached for their food. They dined on the mild, pale flesh of the phlegering, a feathered and winged beast that the Vree had hunted on Ghapta, a lush, watery planet teeming with game. The phlegering paired nicely with the tangy berries servants had foraged in the brambles that formed a ring around his compound.
U’Vol ate lightly and refused the danx wine offered. He needed to remain sharp for his meeting with the council. As was his custom, he used the relay implanted in his temporal lobe to pull up reports from the various department heads of the Dra’Knar. The implant fed the information directly into his optic nerves, allowing him to read the reports and daily news no matter where he was or what he was doing. These implants were required for all Vree class. Not only was it convenient, it was also the most secure way to send classified information. No one could see what U’Vol read except for him, and the council could impart a message to him directly if needed without the fear that anyone else would see or have access to it. To those around him, it looked as though U’Vol was staring blankly off into space. But his family knew he was, in fact, working, not daydreaming.
After eating his fill of the phlegering and suffering the small talk required to keep the two most talkative of his four wives happy, he left the dining hall to seek the company of his third wife, Eponia Tu’Vol. She had been uncustomarily absent from first meal. Perhaps she feels unwell. He had spent as many nights with her as he could without raising the ire of his other wives against her. The womenfolk often skipped morning meal when they were with child. U’Vol’s full lips curved into an easy smile at the thought that Eponia might finally give him the son she longed for.
He hoped she would not turn him away. U’Vol yearned to taste her lips, but he also desired her wise counsel. Though Shree’ka was a capable manager, deftly handling both the finances and politics of the household, Eponia had a wisdom of the world and its politics that was rare for a woman.
He had taken Eponia as a wife over a decade before, and she had yet to bear him a son. By custom, he should have cast her down to be J’Eponia, stripped of her connection to him and forced to beg for food for herself and her children. But Eponia, knowing the unspoken laws and customs of their people as well as anyone, found a way to be of value to U’Vol and his household.
She had learned the art of needlework and passed this art along to their daughters. Together they had crafted for U’Vol and all his sons resplendent Vree robes. U’Vol’s ceremonial and dress robes bore scenes of his victories, both on the field and in council. Eponia’s th
reads were so fine – her hand so skilled – that U’Vol’s council robe was more fine even than the Lij’s robes.
Eponia’s learned skill gave U’Vol the ammunition he needed to quash any suggestion by either his other wives or the D’oj that Eponia be cast down. And for that he was grateful to her. He needed her more than he dared speak of.
U’Vol entered Eponia’s small, softly lit chambers. He expected to find her curled in the silks and pillows of her bed, ill and aching. But her bed was empty, the deep purple and brilliant orange silks smooth, the pillows fluffed and tidy.
Their daughters were in the bathing room. The water tinkled as they splashed and laughed, chattering away as young girls do. They were in the care of their bajis, the female servants that were like second madis to their children.
A breeze tickled his slick skin. The balcony door was open, a warm wind lifting the cobalt-blue curtain and blowing it into the room.
U’Vol tiptoed, as light on his feet as the felines on Navimbi despite his great size. Eponia stood staring out toward the sands that separated their compound from the wall of the inner city of Zhichta, the capital of Uktah. The warm morning air blew her long, free-flowing wavy hair off her bare shoulders, revealing her golden, honey-colored skin. Her tresses were uncommonly light for a M’Uktah, the color of the sands that she stared at. Being entirely hairless himself and the rest of his growing tribe of a family having the dark, coarse hair that most M’Uktah had, U’Vol was fascinated with her plentiful, fair, silky hair. He loved to nuzzle her neck and drink in the aroma of her hair that the servants dressed with sweet almond oil. Her lithe frame was supple, her breasts swollen with the milk needed to nourish their youngest child that she’d whelped only a year ago. U’Vol’s loins tightened at the sight of her. He wished he had the time – and freedom – to tumble her into her freshly made bed and make a mess of it.
He settled for sneaking up on her and planted a light kiss on the back of her neck. She had been in her own world, oblivious to the patter of his large feet on the stone floor. Eponia jumped when his lips met her skin.
“U’Vol! I nearly fell over the balcony.” Though she chastised him, her plump lips curled into a smile.
He wrapped his thick arms around her middle. It was already firm and toned after giving birth to their youngest. He breathed deeply, capturing her scent and savoring it. She smelled of tangled zheshamine blossoms and manthruin spice. The memory of it would have to carry him through the years until he could be with her again.
“What causes my third to miss first meal and stand casting her gaze on sand rather than the countenance of her lord husband?”
Eponia turned in his arms. She reached her long fingers to his neck and pulled his lips to hers. Her kiss was languid but firm. He was ready to push her away to save himself from taking her to bed, but she pulled back first. Her orange eyes were wide, the pupils two black orbs, dark with fear.
“Eponia, what is it, my dashi?”
“You must convince the council today, U’Vol. I sought wisdom from the scryr. She said there was bad fortune in the leaves for you. These – Sarhi, you call them? The scryr saw these people in the leaves. I am frightened for you, dashi.”
U’Vol let out a thunderous laugh, deep and robust. “The words of a scryr? That’s what causes my sweetest dashi to have a troubled heart?”
Eponia nodded.
U’Vol hooked his thick finger under her delicate chin and lifted her face with the finesse and grace of a skilled water dancer. “Dashi.” He kissed her gently. “I have been hunting since I was weaned from the breast. Your U’Vol is the youngest captain of a Vree’Kah ship in the history of the M’Uktah. I commanded during the Kreelan uprising and successfully put it down. You will not lose me to these Sarhi.” He kissed her again, more deeply this time. “Do not worry your mind over it, dashi. You will see me again. And when I see you next, you’ll have my new son at your breast. You are with child, no?”
She gazed downward and the small smile that she’d worn disappeared. “Sadly no, my husband.”
“Then we must try again.”
Though he had intended to speak with her about his own concerns, she was agitated with worry both for his safe return and for the lack of child in her belly. She was in no state to give him counsel.
U’Vol lifted her as though she weighed no more than a child and took her to the neatly made bed. The Council of U will have to wait.
14
ERIKA
Erika floated on a raft. It had been thrown together from bits and pieces of the cot from her cell at A.H.D.N.A., lashed together with strands of her own hair and ripped pieces of her pants. Her legs were bare. I don’t remember taking my pants off.
The raft moved swiftly down a river that was black as night. The air wafting from the water was frigid, knives of ice going through her. The water roared as it tumbled over rocks, barely drowning out the chatter of her teeth. She was on her knees and gripped the sides of the raft, desperately trying not to get thrown into the freezing water.
A column of flame erupted ahead of her. The sudden, intensely bright light stung her eyes. Erika searched for some way to steer away from the plume of fire. Though she had not seen it before, she found a thick stick about a meter long. She paddled madly. Her arms ached and her fingers were stiff. She nearly dropped the paddle in the icy water, but somehow she was able to maintain her grip on the paddle, and she missed the towering inferno by inches.
Fire erupted everywhere around her. Though now only clad in her black tank top and a pair of underwear, she was covered in slick sweat. She considered jumping into the icy cold water to escape the intense heat of the fire. But she somehow knew that if she leapt into the icy, fathomless black river, she’d never surface again.
Erika called for Ian. There was no answer. He’d been right next to her. Wasn’t he? Yes, he had been. But he was nowhere to be seen – or heard – now.
She called out to Jack. No, that’s wrong. He’s not here. He was never here. She called for Dr. Randall. No reply. Desperate to find someone – anyone – who could help her find her way off the river, she screamed out for the betrayer, Tex.
He didn’t answer her call either. She was entirely alone on a deep, frigid lake wedged between towering cliffs on either side.
Erika was tossed about on the raft. It wobbled on glacial waves that loomed larger and larger. She hunkered down in the center of the raft. I have to keep it from tipping. If she fell into the water, she’d either burn up or drown.
“Erika!” someone called.
Ian? She tried to call back, but her voice was stuck in her throat. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out. Like in a dream.
A dream. Open your eyes. But her lids were heavy. She tried and tried again to blink them open, but she was so tired.
I’m always tired here.
Another plume of flame whipped past her. She felt like it had singed her eyebrows off.
Again someone called her name. Louder this time and more insistent. The raft tossed wildly and she was almost thrown off as it careened and went nearly vertical. She clung to the edge of the raft with her fingertips as a spray of icy water stung her hot face.
“Erika? Can you hear me?”
She knew the voice. A man.
“Dr. … Dr. Randall?” Her hoarse voice was barely a whisper. Her throat burned from breathing the fire and smoke. She forced her lids open. Even the dim light of the room on the alien planet made her eyes feel like they’d been stuck with sharp needles.
“Yes, dear. I’m here.” Someone patted her hand. “You’re burning up with fever.”
“What …” Erika tried to speak, but she had trouble remembering what it was she had intended to ask. The thought was there one minute, gone the next. “Did … What did –”
“The Conexus injected you with an extremely virulent virus. They plan to unleash it soon on the whole of the Earth. Apparently they’ve been testing viruses on humans for years.”
Erika’s mind
was still fuzzy from fever. Did he just say they’ll unleash it on Earth? She had to warn people. But she was so tired. Was this what Sturgis was talking about?
“I’m afraid this is the nastiest one they’ve come up with. And there isn’t anything I can … I can’t do anything for either of you. Not here.” Dr. Randall’s voice sounded panicked.
Erika tried to focus her eyes so she could see Dr. Randall clearly. But it hurt to keep her eyes open. ‘Either of you,’ he’d said. “Ian?” Erika tried to raise herself off the ground, but she was too weak to do more than raise her head a few inches. Even that caused needles of pain to shoot through her back.
“Lie still. Ian is here. He has the virus too. He’s sleeping now, though fitfully.”
Erika allowed her heavy lids to close again. She almost preferred the raft of fire to the ache in every centimeter of her body.
_______________
Erika had no idea how long she’d slept. When she next awoke, it was from the need to puke. She tried to roll herself to the side, but it was no good. She lacked the strength, so she merely turned her head sideways. Her head was like a bowling ball on her neck. She retched up the contents of her stomach all over the hard floor on which she lay. It felt like someone had hammered a spike through her from head to pelvis. Someone moaned and she realized she’d made the sound.
“I’m sorry,” Dr. Randall said. “There’s nothing I can do for you. Nothing I can do.” His voice was quiet and quavered slightly.
Is he crying? Erika didn’t have the energy to open her eyes to see him. Her only desire was for the pain to end. She no longer cared if she had to die for that to happen.
_______________
There was an intense white light overhead. Even with her eyes closed, the light was so bright that it caused prickles of pain to shoot through her eyes. She tried to pull her hand to her face to cover her sensitive eyes, but her arms were once again plastered to her sides.
H.A.L.F.: The Makers Page 9