Ion 417: Raiju

by James Darcey

  Ion 417

  Raiju

  James Darcey

  Cover Art by Mikey Brooks

  Copyright © 2011 James Darcey

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN:

  ISBN-13: 978-0-9965254-1-1

  OTHER BOOKS BY

  JAMES DARCEY

  -Ion Trails-

  Ion 417: Raiju

  Ion 417: Raiu – Coming Soon

  Ion 417: Katana – Coming Soon

  -Dragon's Rite-

  Shimmerwing – Coming Soon

  The Stargate Thieves – Coming Soon

  CONTENTS

  Acknowledgments

  Day 6571

  Ichi

  Ni

  San

  Shi

  Go

  Raku

  Shichi

  Hachi

  Kyu

  Ju

  Ju Ichi

  Ju Ni

  Ju San

  Ju Shi

  About the Author

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I know I could never have gotten this book into your hands without the support of my wife, Molly

  DAY 6571

  I don't know why I kept coming back to these files. I had seen them so many times that I could recite every nuance of the movements, every flick of the eyes. Something pulled me back with a longing to fill the empty void in me; that void that screamed for an explanation to my existence. The truth is, I had found that reason, and it burned inside of me. I just didn't like what I'd found.

  I was owned by someone who had taught me the meaning of a word that the dictionaries only vaguely comprehended: Hate. Hate was grey. Hate had a name. Teyrn Elon. It only added to the hatred that he refused to allow me even so much as a name.

  That wasn't who I had selected to look at though. The heading read 'Andorian Eel #6: Day 1395'. I watched the yellowish-green form swim past the imager once more. As though on cue, I knew when the eye would flick to lock on to the imager pick-up. The long body slid by in a series of graceful undulations of the near invisible stripes highlighted against the slightly darker color. Eight meters of graceful beauty slid by with the gentle flick of his tail, clearing the screen just in time to catch the flash of white teeth as he bit down on the imager.

  I didn't know if it was a sign of intelligence, or merely instinct that had driven him. If intelligence, then he had carefully used his own body to shield the attack as his head came back around for the kill. If instinct, then what instinct was there in going for the motionless plastic lens when other fish swam past in ignorant bliss to the deadly killer among them?

  It recorded long enough to catch the flash burn of the electric arc that turned the camera into half a kilo of charred ruin. The log listed no further entries for Andorian Eel #6. It hadn't in the three years since I'd first stumbled across this file.

  When I had first found this file, I had dug into my xenobiology texts to find out all that I could about Andorian Eels. What I found was intriguing, but not really informative; basic stats about size, and electrical discharge; very little about behaviors, other than to call them extremely aggressive. It seems that few researchers into their depths return, and fewer still in one piece. Attempts to domesticate and train them had failed due to the hazards involved.

  I switched the terminal over to another secreted file. I knew these files were hidden away; that I shouldn't even be able to see them, but I had found them just the same. My one fear was being discovered, and losing access to them. These files bore the only clues I had to my origin. I chose one at random from the ten point seven years of recordings for her.

  It picked up from the moment of the door opening in her small room. A Selstlak stood there in the doorway as he tossed her tan form into the room. I could hear the lizard laughing as he watched her limp form come to rest against the far wall. She just lay there unmoving as the door slid shut on her isolation, as it always did.

  A few moments later she stirred, sitting up to scream at the door and the departed lizards. When her rage was spent she looked down at the floor, as though focusing her thoughts. Only a moment later her face tilted back up with a look of determination, and she calmly reached behind her head to begin braiding her black hair. It hung loose down to the small of her back, with snarls from the Selstlak's rough handling. With practiced ease she brought all of the loose strands into the thick braid, and tucked the ends back through to keep it tight.

  The next part was what had brought me back to this particular recording. She stuck a finger into her mouth to wet it, but when she tried dragging it across the floor it left almost no mark. I remembered this scene as one from early in her second year of recordings. Frustrated that after three attempts she couldn't get a line to show up because her mouth was too dry, she bit the tip of her smallest finger.

  It was just a tiny hole, but it bubbled up a dot of red on the tip. Satisfied that the blood had welled up, she drug that finger across the floor before her. It left a mark barely as long as the hand that had drawn it. This was another file that I had watched countless times. I had watched them all at least a few times, and some of them dozens of times. This particular one happened to be a favorite. I spoke the word even before she did.

  "Ichi."

  A second line paralleled the first. "Ni."

  And a third; the line barely more than a hint of red. "San."

  She tried spitting on her drawings to clear it, but alas, her mouth held no moisture. She had to move over a little to draw the four sided box with interior curved lines. Without the moisture of saliva, she was forced to bite her finger once more. She held up her hand toward the ceiling, with thumb folded and fingers spread wide. "Shi."

  This went on for twenty-seven drawings, some getting fairly complicated, before that same Salstlak came back into her room to drop some meal wafers on the floor. I called that one Scar snout for the burn scar that crossed his right nostril. He laughed once more at the sight of her scrambling to pick up the broken pieces.

  He took but a moment to glance at the drawing she had done before proceeding to urinate on them. Lizards don't retain much water, so there wasn't much to come out. Still it was enough to obliterate the blood marks with a swipe of his tail as he turned to depart. Knowing his temperament from other recordings, I was sure that he had made an effort to hold that in until he could urinate on her.

  She held the wafer aloft. "Shokuryou. Sesshoku."

  She leaned back against the wall to chew the thin wafers, and glared at the ceiling in her fierce determination. I knew every curve of her face, and tilt of her eyes. Other than the coloring, it was the same face that stared back at me from the mirror each day. Her recordings ended some ten years ago, with a simple notation that she had ceased functioning.

  Scar Snout was beyond my reach. He had been transferred to the weapon testing division more than ten years ago. The final notes indicated that he was the subject of evaluation for Project 109. I hope that he spent his final moments remembering the bite. A careless snapping of his jaw removed her smallest finger in the final images of him.

  Her screams had lasted mere moments before she had clamped her mouth shut to glare her anger at the retreating lizard. Blood dribbled between the fingers of her other hand she had wrapped around the wound. That was one of the later files that I didn't enjoy watching as much.

  Once again I shifted files. This time to the sector marked as the surveillance imagers. These were centered upon my own room. At first it was the current view, but I set about shifting the time markers back several hours to the point when I'd first deviated from the proscribed teachings of Muufa'sa, Victor of the Seven Worlds Clash.

  Oh how boring his recitals were. He may have emerged victorious, but I sometimes wondered if it was because he d
rove his opponents insane with his ceaseless monologues. His ritual that he deemed essential to prepare for the daily events covered four volumes. Little of it applied to me. I didn't have tentacles, let alone care about the preferred method of achieving a striated sheen to enhance length.

  I spent the next half hour overlaying the recorded images depicting my foray into secret files, with various volumes of the blowhard cephalopod. I actually had read those things a few times, though once was more than enough. Even the most boring of monologues becomes entertainment when there is nothing else.

  TOC

  ICHI

  The door slid open just as it had done a thousand times before. There had been no signal; no warning; there never was. When they chose to come for me was their own whim, and I had no say in the matter; actually I had no say in any matter. My very existence was even a matter of his whim. Teyrn Elon was the supreme master of everything that encompassed my existence. He taught me the meaning of hate. Pain and hate.

  It wasn't him standing in the silhouette of the door, it never was. I think that he knew better than to come within reach of my grasp. He hadn't been in the same room with me for nearly ten years. No, it was the sneering mottled-brown one that stood there in the door of my cage they called a room. A two meter tall lizard with more teeth than brains, called a Selstlak. The whole group of them served as Teyrn Elon's guard flunkies, and sometimes test subjects if they failed him. Sneering Tooth was about to fail him in a big way, but I'd save him the pain of being a laboratory test subject.

  He sauntered in slowly with that nice insulating suit all bundled up tight. There was even a toughened patch in it where his tail tapped the floor behind him. I could tell that he was in one of his teasing moods with both fangs showing behind the faceplate. They all knew there was a lot that they could get away with as long as Teyrn Elon didn't discover. Sneering Tooth's favorite start of the day was to flip the tray over, and watch as I picked the crumbs of my meal wafers off of the floor. That tray that he held in his hands at this very moment. That tray held in his bare hands. I nearly let a smile betray me at the sight.

  An insulated suit is pretty good at blocking out electrical contact, but it doesn't work so well when the matching gloves are still tucked into the belt. His gloves were tucked so very neatly with the claw tubes folded down to show off the symbols drawn on them. Oh how those Selstlaks seemed to relish decorating themselves.

  I had been ready for a moment like this for months, or at least as ready as I could hope to be given my limited resources in this cage. I was so surprised when the moment had arrived that I nearly blew it right then as I jumped up to get my meal. It took tremendous self-control, and two deep breaths, to shove the anticipatory thrill down to where it didn't show on my face. I could never tell just how much these guards actually paid attention to me.

  Quickly donning a mask of apathy I slowed my steps down to one per breath, stopping just short of actually taking the tray from him. I knew from the showing of both fangs that the moment I reached for that tray it was going to flip over. He would pay for that sneer. This had to look just right or I'd scare him away. I was only going to get one chance. Just before his patience ran out I reached; not for the tray like he expected, but grabbing his wrists - the yellowish-green of my hands standing out stark against his mottled-brown.

  I remembered the feel of that leathery skin. It had been many years since they had started wearing the suits, but I remembered. I hated that feel because it always came with being dragged or carried off to the laboratory for my own time under their examinations and testing. I was close enough to nearly bump my face into his faceplate as he looked down on me.

  I could see that sneer as he tensed to overpower my grip and dumped the tray anyway. Let him sneer; I knew what was coming next and that sneer would be on his face for the rest of his short life. All ten seconds of it. It wasn't that I needed ten seconds either. Something in me thrilled to the prospect of watching him dance as I returned twenty years under his care. I felt the surge of power as it coursed through me, and out through my hands - those hands that gripped his nice leathery, conductive hide.

  The tray clattered to the floor with a dull ringing sound, forgotten in the moment of his gurgling last breath. I held his gaze, feeling the shudders as the medium-sized jolt caused every muscle in his body to twitch uncontrollably. I held that gaze until those slitted eyes rolled up and backward behind the dual lids. I hadn't been close enough to see that before. I knew from reading about them that they had dual lids, but had never seen them.

  I let gravity claim its right to his body as I released the jolt feeding into him. His thud didn't have that same dull ring that the tray had, but it was satisfying anyway. It sounded more final. A fine trail of smoke drifted up from the open wrists of his useless suit to tickle my throat, and bring on my own spasming cough. Ughh, I never imagined the smell of fried lizard would be so bad. I had to step away from him to regain my breath, and that was nearly my undoing.

  Either the thud of his body dropping to the floor or my coughing drew the interest of his two companions waiting outside the door. I'd known that they were there. That was the reason I'd held back what I could from Sneering Tooth. Catching one of the Selstlaks being careless was a gift that had only come twice in the years since they had begun wearing the suits. The first time it happened I hadn't been ready nor had a plan. There was no chance that even two of them would be careless at the same time, let alone all three. They always traveled in threes.

  As I had suspected, the other two were fully suited when they came into the doorway. I was still hacking up the last vestiges of the cough as I mustered up every ounce of energy I could into the most massive burst I'd ever done. With an arm pointed at each of them, I fed that energy down to my hands, and let it bridge the gap between us. One bolt hit a chest, and the other in his neck. The force of energy bore right though those suits to find the lizard beneath the plastic. I hadn't been sure I could pull off that splitting, but it worked better than I'd hoped. I put every pinch they'd done; every claw poke, kick, backhand, trip, and all the other things they seemed to delight in getting away with as they took me to the lab, into that split bolt.

  Squinty had pulled his comm free of the belt, and nearly managed to key it before his clenching muscles crushed the device. Broken Fang merely shuddered under the assault. I collapsed exhausted as the last bit of energy drained out. I'd held that burst as long as I could. From the looks of the smoke filling their helmets, I'd done it. Their suited bodies fell to the floor with a double thud that sounded deafening in the stillness.

  There hadn't been the opportunity to be choosy about my timing, but luckily a glance down the passageway in both directions revealed nothing but emptiness. In all the times they had led, dragged, or carried me to that laboratory, I'd never once seen another being in those passageways. I knew that there were others, both being held for study and preparation as I was, and workers in the labs. There were at least eighteen Selstlaks too; correction, fifteen.

  I dragged the bodies inside the door just in case anybody came along. Now there was no turning back, not that I wanted to. Broken Fang was the leader, and carried that all-important access disk that opened doors like mine and the lab's. I yanked the cord free from where it hung about his neck, and lifted the disk out of the breast pocket. The edge of it had caught part of my bolt and melted slightly as the bolt tore through the suit. I searched Squinty as well, and found a similar disk hanging from his neck; the cord melted into the mess at his throat. That disk wasn't going anywhere unless I dragged the entire two-meter tall lizard with me. Unless... Five minutes later I had chewed through the melted cord.

  I sat down on Squinty to rest a few minutes, and regain my energy. There was a lot more that stood between me and actually getting away; I needed every bit I could build up. When I felt the wonderful tickle of energy strong enough to arc between my fingers, I stood once more. Two steps later I was driving every scrap of that into the data terminal.
I had broken the security on that years ago, and had used it to gain the knowledge for planning my escape. I only hoped that bolt was strong enough to blow away the traces of my searches.

  The door slid shut with the oh-so-familiar whoosh - the door that was boldly labeled on this side with the carefully stenciled letters reading 'Project 417' and 'Compartment 10-N'. The first time I'd seen that, and known that they were symbols with meaning, was shortly after I had learned to read Indigal. I mistook the lettering to mean that it was my name. I gave myself the name of Ion. Project 417 was how they referred to me between themselves; I was never spoken to, or even acknowledged when I spoke.

  The devastated bodies were inside, and I was one step closer to freedom. The surprise visit with my meal hadn't let me prepare my thinking. I took a moment to pull the image of the passageway map to mind, and orient myself. I had run this part through my head countless times, but actually doing it was completely different. I didn't spend much time savoring my first victory before taking off at a run for the food lockers. There was no way of knowing how long I would have before someone noticed my absence. By the routine it should be another twelve hours before I was called again to the laboratory, but they had shifted timing previously. The faster I departed the better my chances were.

  I ran past two cross passages, into an area that I had never been in before. Suddenly nothing looked right. My mental map said that I was right on course for going a third of a rotation to find the access tubes to the upper floors, but still I had to back track to find the turn I should have seen the first time around. The map only indicated one, but I stood facing a triple tube. Before I could decide which one to take, a trio of Indigal rounded the corner, heading right for the spot where I stood.