That epiphany had hit Vance like a bullet to his heart just two days before, but he accepted it and he did the one thing he swore he would not do. He grieved. He cried for him. He let go of those feelings that had been festering inside of him, creating nothing but a toxic sludge of pent-up sorrow. If he was going to truly lead this rebellion, he had to release all that emotional baggage that would end up only slowing him down. This was war. Lives were on the line. Their futures, and the futures of all the souls in the universe, depended on him standing strong to lead them.
Vance's breath fogged in the frigid air as he opened his eyes to see the two blue-skinned Biromians with their four golden eyes, a human cyborg with a computerized face, and a short human with bright blue hair, a cybernetic eye, and a black lip ring. The only known remaining survivors of the Red Sand Rebels. There was no way to know if Kalimis and Slayven survived whatever tortures Warlord Tirlmayn had in store for those two renegade Azimandians. As far as Vance was concerned, they were as good as dead. He had to gather what few members they had to lead that rebellion to victory . . . whatever victory that may have been.
He looked to the eight-foot-tall Biromian in the black jumpsuit. "Dallis?"
"Hmm?"
"How long can Biromians live without food?"
"Between six and eight months. And humans?" Dallis asked, concern showing in his four golden eyes.
"Two months at the most. How long do you think we've been down here?"
"Many days. Maybe two weeks."
The man on the floor with the lip ring made whimpering sounds as he thrashed his head back and forth in a nightmare. Sweat trickled down the side of his face despite the temperature being near freezing.
"Lucas?" Vance nudged him with the toe of his boot. "Lucas Stephens, wake up. What's wrong with him? Should I wake up him?"
Dallis brushed Lucas's messy bright blue hair out of his eyes. "Pet? Come on, pet. Wake up for me and let me talk to you so we can figure out what's going on with you."
Lucas moaned between his pale chapped lips. "Ruth?"
"No, it's me, Dallis. Wake up, pet."
"Don't take me to the bedroom. No! I can't. You'll kill me. You already whipped me. Not again!"
Vance watched closely at the young man's fitful semi-consciousness. "He's delusional."
"Father Torly, stop!" Lucas screamed and flailed his legs.
Dallis slid his arms under Lucas's armpits and pulled him into his lap to cradle him there like a child. "It's okay, pet. You're okay. I won't let them hurt you anymore. You're safe now. You're safe."
"And what's up with Derek?" Vance nodded to the cyborg who sat motionless in the shadows. "I get that he never speaks, but he still moves, right? Did the cold get to him?"
Neon, the Biromian with the colorful beads in his yellow hair, shook his head. "He hasn't moved since day one down here. No water, no waste voiding, nothing. I'm not entirely certain he's still alive . . . as alive as things like him can be."
Vance punched the wall behind him then shouted at the much older alien. "Computers and robots can be as much alive as you and me. Just because their insides may be more synthetic than a normal creature, it doesn't mean they aren't living. I have worked with computers for many years, so I know some things. With the Genesis Sequence in play, anything is possible. Many robots and androids can feel emotions just like anyone else. I am the father of Nemo Tillman, a robotic android child, who is more than likely dead. But I have been in his life from the first day he was turned on. I played with him, I fed him, I sang lullabies to him while Rav and I rocked him to sleep. I kissed his knees when he fell and cried. And his art? That boy was imaginative beyond anything I've ever seen. You can't program that, not with the emotions behind it. I have worked on some very sophisticated systems, but not one has ever convinced me it was alive . . . other than Nemo. So don't sit there and say that beings with synthetic parts can't be alive. Because they can."
Neon rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Vance. I think Derek is in sleep mode or something."
"It's a stasis, actually." Dallis crossed his arms and studied the cyborg. "Olonictians have the ability to go into a stasis much like hibernation if they find themselves in a hostile environment or their bodies begin to shut down. Due to the lack of food and the freezing temperatures, he has slipped into his stasis."
"But Derek isn't an Olonictian."
"The technology in his brain and all over his face is, though. When that was equipped, it was probably integrated to react with all of his muscles, nerves, and bodily functions. So in essence, Derek is now Olonictic for all intents and purposes."
"How do we wake him up?" Vance asked.
"We don't. He will wake up from his stasis as soon as he is ready. Once conditions improve, he will snap out of it."
That didn't make any sense. "Rav is part Olonictian, right? Like mostly Olonictic in a human body? I've never seen him in a stasis like this."
"Are you sure? It can take many forms. Has Rav ever passed out or fainted? Maybe he stared off into space and only a trigger sound or word could bring him back to reality?"
Vance instantly knew he was right. Rav's trigger was the one thing he hated most. "Green apples."
"Or a smell can sometimes be a trigger, yes."
"All this time, I thought most of those instances were just nasty flashbacks. Now you're telling me it was some kind of alien stasis?"
"During times of severe physical, mental, or emotional stress. They can be like hallucinations."
"And Lucas over there?" Vance motioned to the teenage priest wallowing on the floor in a fitful episode.
"Lucas is having a simple human nightmare brought on by years of traumatic stress, nothing more. I think he may have PTSD."
"Not surprising." Vance felt pity for the boy. Honestly, it would be surprising if Lucas did not have post-traumatic stress disorder after the abuse he went through as an offering boy in that church. He turned his attention back to the problems he could fix. "How do you know so much about Olonictu?"
"I am very old, Vance. Neon and I were around before humans ever set foot on Olonictu. I know a lot about many things, both Biromian and otherwise."
Neon's brow furrowed and he shot a sideways glance at his fellow Biromian. "But boss-"
"Enough, Neon. We're not talking about this. Without Rage to communicate however he did with Derek, we just have to wait."
Dallis had said too much for Vance to drop it. "Did something happen involving you and Olonictu?"
"I said I'm not talking about it, but yes. Something truly evil happened while Neon and Powder were on Birom for a week-long festival of ours and I was left alone. Fine. You know what? I'll tell you. It's not like we're going anywhere and you'll inevitably pester the crap out of me until I tell you. I might as well get it over with." Dallis brushed a layer of dust from his black jumpsuit then rubbed his four golden eyes. "Many, many hundreds of years ago, I was just a young Biromian man with a starship, a treasure map, a new mating pendant, and raging hormones. I followed the treasure map until I found a remote dwarf planet, the only one in its lonely solar system, and I landed my ship in the middle of a desert colony of native Biromians. It was an entire tribe of ancient Biromians, feathers and all. I fell in love with their princess and we mated for the first time in my life. It was great. She did this thing with her tongue where she-"
Vance groaned. "Just get to the point, Dallis. No one wants to hear about that."
"Right. So I was asleep in the princess's tent when she rolled over and opened her mouth to kiss me, but a black monster crawled out, dragging her intestines out with it. I didn't know what it was at the time, but now I know it was a baby hive warrior. Every member of the tribe had been infected. They carried the eggs inside their bodies. There was screaming and gurgling outside as the thousands of hive warriors broke out of their hosts. I raced outside and fought as many of them off as I could, but they quickly overwhelmed me and I passed out. When I woke up, I was tired face-down to a giant bloc
k of ice and I was as naked as the day I came into this universe. I had never been as cold as I was then. Looking back, that part was kind of funny. But back then, I was terrified. I wasn't so strong and talented like I am now."
"Don't stroke your ego too much, Dallis. You'll end up rubbing it raw."
"Shut your mouth, half breed." Dallis chuckled. "Anyway, two people came into the dark room where I was shivering and they tortured the crap out of me. Eventually they removed me from the ice block and chained me to a metal pole by a furnace. They poured hot water over my chest to warm me back up, leaving burns that took forever to remove. Sadistic bastards. I don't know how long I had been there. It felt like months. I got a key to the lock on my chains, picked up a hot rod from the furnace, and fought my way out. The end."
"You tell the worst stories. How did that have anything to do with how you know about the Olonictic stasis?" Vance asked.
"During my time imprisoned there, those maniac Biromians strapped a device onto my head with these needles that went into my skull and messed with my brain. They sent electricity through it and monitored my bodily functions like I was their sick experiment. They told me that they were Olonictic robots in Biromian bodies and they wanted to use my body as their next host for a robot overlord or something. I didn't catch all the details 'cause I was being shocked half to death at the time, but then I . . . I had a hallucination. It was weird. When I came to, they were singing the same lullaby my father used to sing to me. That song was my trigger. While I had that contraption connected to my brain, I was just like them. I was Olonictic. They were forcing me to go through severe physical trauma in order to make me go into a stasis. That's how I know what I do. I know exactly how Derek feels right now."
Vance thought back over the story and one thing stood out to him. "The key. How did you get the key to the lock on your chains? Olonictians don't seem like the kinds of beings who forgetfully misplace something like that."
"They didn't misplace it. I made it."
"Uh, what?"
"I made the key. While that thing was on my head, I not only had to go through Olonictic stasis, but matter materialization as well. I used the Genesis Sequence to create a key."
"Then you know what the Genesis Sequence is?" Vance asked.
"No clue. All I know is how it felt. It was warm and tingly as it spread over my body. I could see the exact key I needed in my mind. The more I focused on it, the more my body tingled. It grew until I gasped and everything faded. And there it was . . . the key to the lock in my hands."
"If you knew about all this, why didn't you say something earlier?"
Dallis closed his eyes and leaned back against the rough rock wall. All signs of joking had vanished. "Did you ever think that maybe I don't like reliving all that? The things they did to me . . . it was torture beyond any I've been through. There was so much more than what I've told you. You haven't been tortured, so you have no room to complain."
Vance's jaw tensed and he weakly clenched his fists.
"I just put my foot in my mouth, didn't I?" Dallis asked, leaning forward as his face softened. "Vance, no. You've been tortured?"
"Waterboarded. Electrocuted. Many times. The soles of my feet were caned. I was held still while soldiers beat me senseless and it was all broadcast live across Odyssia. Then I was left there, half dead on the floor of that gymnasium, covered in blood and their urine, with a live landmine inches from my face to kill me if I moved. So you tell me if I've been tortured."
"I'm sorry."
Vance tried to put it behind him to focus on the bigger picture. "We need to band together, not tear each other down or belittle what we've been through. Every person in this pit has been tortured in their lives, either physically or emotionally. That is what we must continue fighting to prevent. We cannot allow more humans, Azimandians, Biromians, or Valmorons to be brutalized, humiliated, and enslaved. Tirlmayn and Olonictu must be stopped."
"What's our plan, glorious leader?" Neon asked, playing with the beads in his hair.
"This." Vance stood and unzipped his camouflage pants. He slid them off and took them over to Derek. "Give him your clothes. We need to warm him up to break him out of his stasis so he can materialize something to get us out of here."
"Like what?" Neon asked.
"Like a ladder or a helicopter. I don't know. Something. Come now, mates. Undress like you're dancing for Dayta Notes in a club."
The two Biromians looked at each other then stripped down to their underwear and covered the motionless cyborg in them. Dallis removed Lucas's clothes, who was still asleep, as well to give them to Derek. "There."
"Good." Vance spoke through chattering teeth as he wrapped his arms around his bare chest. "It's not too cold in here to pose a serious health threat, but we will be uncomfortable. Let's hope Derek wakes up soon. I'd rather not freeze to death once night falls."
Chapter 5
"Your son is an artistic genius." Viktor handed Rav a cold lime soda and sat on the plastic-covered carpet next to him. They both watched the skinny blond boy who was on a ladder, painting the purple rings around a blue spotted planet. The third-story apartment was in a much nicer building than the one Rav was living in. All of the leather furniture and the stained glass chandeliers had been draped with towels and plastic to keep them from being spotted with paint in the process. Darkshot pop music filled the room from the speakers of the small communicator that Viktor had given to Nemo, who was quietly singing along with the chorus.
Rav smiled then cracked open the can of his favorite soda. Seeing Nemo enjoying himself made all of his fears melt away. "Yeah. Nemo is . . . he's wonderful. He's my world, my life, my everything."
"Your youngest child?"
"My only."
"If you don't mind me prying a bit, where is his mother?" Viktor asked. "Did she leave you?"
Rav pried the tab off of the can then flipped it across the room where it bounced off a striped lampshade. "She's dead."
"Oh, my apologies."
"It's fine. She was a cheating, abusive woman who secretly aborted four of my children. I didn't even know she was pregnant. The doctors told me I was infertile."
"Damn. Well, at least you have Nemo."
"And I'm never letting him go." Rav peeled back a strip of blue painter's tape on the beige wallpaper behind him as his mind wandered. "I'm a little worried, though. His eye isn't getting better. He usually heals quickly from scrapes and cuts. It's just proof that I'm such a bad father."
"Let me ask you something. I want the truth. Nemo didn't hurt his eye from falling off of a ladder, did he?" Viktor asked, unbuttoning the black buttons down the front of his yellow tuxedo.
"No."
"You hit him."
Rav hung his head and stared out of the sliding glass doors on the far side of the apartment to the busy city streets below. "I did. I hate myself for that. You have no idea how much I hate myself for laying a hand on him. I have always been adamantly against corporal punishment, but I lost my temper. I had such a horrible day and when I saw the mess on the walls, I lost it. Something dark rose up inside me that I couldn't control. I hit him. Just once, but that was too much. Maybe I deserve to be locked away."
"I'm not calling the police. Even wonderful parents make mistakes. I can see how much you love the boy. Was that the first time he's been hit?"
Rav wished he could say yes, but he knew far too well what Nemo had been through. "No. His mother and her boyfriend beat him. They called it discipline, but discipline doesn't break the skin and leave bruises. I wouldn't even treat an animal that way. Then there were the untold abuses he went through at the hands of those Azimandians. I'm supposed to be the one to protect him from all that, not give him a black eye because I lose my self control. I will do whatever I have to in order to make that up to Nemo. I have to be a good father."
"You are a good father, Rav. You're giving everything you can for that boy. Learn from your mistakes."
"I will. I swear I will.
"
"Good. Then that's all that matters." Viktor patted Rav's shoulder. "What brought you two to Darkshot? It's not difficult to see that you're not from around here. You have a mark of logic. Those haven't been given out in most of the human colonies for many years. If I had to guess, I'd say you've escaped from Odyssia."
"Nice guess."
Viktor's honey eyes flickered with intrigue as he leaned closer to Rav. "So? What are you? A fugitive? A refugee trying to get away from that corrupt backwards government?"
"The Odyssian military kidnapped Nemo and took him to Elysia where he was then passed around and ended up in Krisharn X-Azimandia's hands. I scoured the universe looking for Nemo. I only just got him back a couple of weeks ago. He's been by my side ever since."
Nemo held up his paintbrush and turned to them with a giant smile on his face. Green and blue paint was smeared on his arms and splattered on his pale cheeks. "Daddy, do you like it? It's Dualictum."
"It's perfect, buddy! Good job!"
The boy turned back to his mural and dipped the brush into the pot of paint.
"Thank you again for doing this. Look how happy he is."
Viktor nodded. "No problem at all. I needed to repaint these rooms anyway. Once I saw that you only had the awful furniture from the previous tenants and the lack of food and necessities in your apartment, I knew I had to do something. I had a son . . . he was two when I lost him in a hovercar accident. He would be Nemo's age now. I couldn't let a child starve. Tomorrow, I want to take you and your son to the Citizenry Courthouse. I'm going to pay for you two to become citizens. Think of it as an advance on the money I will owe Nemo for his paintings."
"You're serious?" Rav asked, dumbfounded. "Nemo's paintings are worth that much?"
"At auction? Certainly. As one of the premier real estate brokers on Darkshot, I own many buildings and have connections across the planet. A dear friend of mine owns an art gallery. I want Nemo to create some artwork to be displayed there for an annual formal gala the gallery is hosting soon. I think it would be a great way to expose a young artist to critics and art lovers. I will be Nemo's personal sponsor. With your permission, of course."
The Genesis Sequence Books 6-10 Page 4