Tethered

by Pippa Jay

  He was coming again. She felt the familiar rhythm of his footsteps along the metal corridor leading to her cell. His name no longer held any meaning, any more than her own might have done. He was master, and she was pet. Slave. Filth. Whatever he chose to call her. Whatever he made her do, or whatever he did to her. She was bad, and all he did was give her the punishment she deserved. She now knew the sound of his footfalls better than the frenzied pounding of her own heart.

  Sometimes, in those blessed moments between his visits, part of her mind wondered exactly what she’d done to merit such punishment. But then he would come again, and blood would flow. Pain would tear through every shred of her being until she had no voice left to scream, to beg. And then she would know. She deserved it, just as he kept telling her, with every blow that landed on her broken body. He had beaten her again and again, until she couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t hurt.

  Except when she slept. Those few blissful moments of escape when she seemed to remember another man. One who had held her gently. One who had filled her with such light that it would seem blinding against the darkness she knew now. Someone who had loved her. And yet he’d hurt her too. He’d allowed this to happen.

  She didn’t know how many days and nights had passed when the explosions came. The vibrations strummed through her cell, through her nerves. She whimpered and coiled into a tighter knot. Perhaps this was a new punishment for her. Perhaps he had something special planned this time.

  Fire blossomed around her door and she covered her eyes. Debris sliced across her skin, hot splinters that stung. She buried her face against her knees and clutched her arms over her head. The sound of weapon-fire and explosions, of screams and shouts, poured into her prison. The stench of scorched metal. The tang of blood.

  A part of her woke. Remembered. She had killed before. Fought before. Perhaps if she got up now, got out through that open door, she could escape. She could be free of her master.

  But it was so hard to move when everything ached, when fear shivered through her veins. If she tried and he found her, he would be angry. So very angry. And he would punish her further.

  She moaned. She couldn’t take that again. Not anymore.

  “Tyree!”

  Something inside her sparked at that name, a memory so fragmented she couldn’t find the word for it. She knew the name.

  “Tyree!”

  Hope and a sudden surge of energy warmed the chill of her body, eased the ache. She uncurled herself. Smoke coiled into her cell through the blasted door. The cacophony of battle still rang in the corridor outside. But she wasn’t afraid of that.

  She crawled across the floor, the pain in her legs too much for her to stand. The acrid tang of discharged energy weapons burned the lining of her nose and throat. A Tier-vane soldier lay in the corridor just outside her door, his back a charred mess. A thread of disappointment touched her at the discovery. It wasn’t him. The fur was dark gold with black strands—not tawny like his.

  The sound of weapons firing and the snarls of the Tier-vane seemed to be moving away. Didn’t they know she was here? Hadn’t she heard someone calling her name? Or had she imagined that? Imagined they’d come to rescue her because that’s what she’d been hoping for? Perhaps this was all just a hallucination.

  “Tyree.”

  Her breathing stuttered. The voice had been closer, and it wasn’t a dream. Someone was calling her name, coming this way. She tried to answer, but her voice had died; her throat raw from screaming so loud and for so long. She kept on crawling, past the dead felinoid on the ground, over shards of metal that sliced her palms and knees, but that didn’t matter. Someone was coming through the smoke toward her. Someone was coming for her, and it gave her the strength to scramble to her feet.

  Meso emerged from the smoke, his orange eyes distended in fury. She managed a sob as he seized her hair and shook her like a rag. “Sssuuu bitch!” he spat, and dragged her back the way she’d come. Her legs, battered and weak, gave out under her and she fell. His foot caught her once, twice in the ribs as he screamed at her to get up. She lay and took it, because she just couldn’t move, couldn’t get up. She was ready to die now, and the additional pain seemed a distant thing as a growing darkness swamped her mind.

  “Tyree!”

  Only the sound of her name kept her conscious. It demanded that she listen, that she stay awake. That she answer. The voice called her back and held her.

  She heard Meso snarl and roar a challenge. With the last of her strength, she pushed herself off her stomach and onto her side as someone else ran at Meso and punched the felinoid hard in the face.

  Meso’s head snapped back and he yowled, before both taloned hands swiped at his opponent. In the smoke, with her sight blurred by pain and disorientation, she couldn’t see the blows land, only heard the hissed intake of breath that meant Meso must have hit his mark. She looked up and someone sprang out of the smog, his scarred face set and his cheek scored by red lines where the claws had caught him. Armored gloves encased his hands, augmenting his blows as he double-punched Meso, blocking the Tier-vane’s repeated attempts to slash across his brown eyes. Blood trickling from his nose and mouth, Meso staggered backward with a gargled yowl. The man—a human, his face so familiar—stood braced, fists raised, as if taunting the Tier-vane to keep trying, to give him an excuse to hit him again.

  Zander…The name rushed into her mind like golden light. His eyes flickered sideways, caught her gaze.

  No, don’t look at me, don’t...

  Meso launched himself at Zander and flattened him in that instant of distraction. Zander punched up once, and then raised a knee and pounded Meso in the stomach and chest until he managed to shrug off the Tier-vane. Both struggled to their feet. Another slashing blow by the felinoid ripped the front of Zander’s black uniform, and earned Meso another crushing blow to the nose that sent him backward, roaring his frustration. He came forward again, and this time his blow knocked Zander sideways to collapse on top of her.

  For an instant their eyes met. “Tyree,” he whispered, a world of hope in his voice. Then he was rising, but Meso was faster, a blade in his hand that flashed as it descended and struck Zander in the back. He grunted under the impact, and bewilderment flickered across his face.

  She tried to scream, tried to move, but she might as well have been Tethered. As Zander fell at her side, darkness rushed in to take her.

  ***

  Warmth bathed her as though beams of sunlight had wrapped her body in a cocoon. The many aches seemed dulled now, but the one inside her chest carved gaping wounds that would never heal. The memory of his death. The look in those brown eyes that had sparked her last hope. A hope that had died with him.

  And yet she couldn’t cry, couldn’t scream her agony. It remained locked inside her body, tearing her apart more than anything Meso had done to her.

  “It would be kinder to kill her. You know what that does to us. She’s not Tyree anymore.” The voice, a man’s regretful tones, brushed over her awareness.

  “No. Do everything you can for her.”

  G’vorek? Why was he here? Why did his voice sound as though it had broken, as though he’d been crying? Inc-Su never cried...

  “It’s not just the physical damage. We can fix that. Regen already is. But her aura is shredded. Her mind is just...a mess.”

  Something caressed her face, her hair. A distant sensation, as if happening to a body only vaguely linked to her own. Had someone touched her? Or was it the repair bots she could hear buzzing nearby?

  Medical bubble.

  The name drifted into her fragmented consciousness. A casket used for those with multiple injuries, and a closely guarded secret of the Inc-Su. Her body would be floating in a vat of restorative gel that would heal her outer wounds without a trace, supporting her body weight to reduce the stress on broken bones and bruising. Microbots would be performing internal repairs. Somewhere tubes would be pumping nutrients and stimulants into her system, no
doubt along with pain-inhibitors to stop her feeling any of it. A rational part of her mind, far from the turmoil possessing her, told her those facts like one of the council giving a training lecture.

  She wanted to scream for them to stop. To let her die. The only reason for her to want to go on living had died at Meso’s hand.

  “Why are you so determined to keep her alive? I thought Inc-Su policy was to put them out of their misery?”

  “No. Not Tyree,” G’vorek insisted.

  “Why? There are plenty more Su. They’ll clone her if her genes are useful.”

  “Because she’s mine.”

  “Yours?”

  Her breath froze in her lungs. Something forced air in despite her resistance.

  “The daughter of one of my clones. Genetically mine,” G’vorek admitted.

  “I thought we didn’t breed. I thought that was the whole point of cloning.”

  “It is. But my last clone wasn’t sterile as most of us are. He found himself a human partner and managed to get her pregnant.”

  “I’d never heard that.”

  “Not something we wanted known. We took them both into Refuge, but she died in labor with the child stillborn. We cloned a kin group from the infant.”

  “Why?” The medic, or whatever he was, sounded horrified. The information filtered through her senses. So now she knew. She was half-human—and G’vorek’s kin. The honorific of Father stirred a new emotion in her.

  “Sometimes cloning leads to stagnation. Sometimes a change is needed. And I...I wanted to know what the child might have been like...”

  Her heartbeat seemed to stutter. The faint sound of an alarm rose over the distant pounding.

  “What is it?”

  “Her internal organs are failing.”

  “Can you stop it?”

  A momentary pang made her heart falter. More alarms beeped.

  “I don’t know. It shouldn’t be happening. She’s on full life support, but her system seems to be shutting down.”

  “Tyree.” G’vorek sounded as though he was begging. “Fidget, don’t give up yet.”

  She wanted to tell him it didn’t matter. She wanted to tell him she didn’t have the strength to fight. She wanted to call him Father one last time, and mean it as something other than his Inc-Su title. But the rising darkness swallowed her up and she sank into it with something close to gratitude.

  ***

  Something brushing her cheek woke her. Her eyes snapped open. She had never expected to wake again.

  “Tyree?”

  She remembered that voice. A long time ago and far away. She had loved that voice.

  A face filled her vision. Fine brown hair, left too long around a strong jaw, a triangular face with a cleft chin. One brown eye, and one that gleamed from the fine silver wires within it. But something was missing. A faint white spider’s web of lines ran above his right eyebrow and reached down his cheek, and she raised a finger to touch it, to trace its length. There should have been something more, something else.

  “Tyree?”

  The voice reminded her of sweetened capprey. She licked her lips, remembering the taste. Smooth, strong, with a hint of bitterness.

  “Tyree.”

  He was frowning now, his lips pressed tight together. Her finger trailed downward and followed the line of them, then the dip in his chin. Stubble pricked her fingertips. That seemed odd. She recalled his face being smooth when she’d kissed him last.

  “Zander?”

  A smile lit his face. “You remember.”

  “Remember?” A sudden flood of memories came, of agony unending, of her screaming his name as the Tier-vane weapon stripped her of her powers, of her memory and will, but left her conscious as Meso tortured her again and again until her skin seemed permanently stained with blood and bruises.

  Her body convulsed at the memory. “Zander!”

  “It’s all right!” He had his arms around her in an instant, his aura merging into hers. She clung to him, feeling him shake almost as much as she was. “He will never hurt you again. I promise. He’s dead. I killed him...”

  She was sobbing now, her face buried in his neck. The heat of him seeped into her, soothing. She could feel the rhythm of his heart. This was real.

  “You came for me,” she gasped.

  “I did.”

  “But I saw him stab you. I saw you die...” And yet here he was.

  “Did you really think after all that had happened, I wouldn’t be protected?”

  “Protected?”

  “Nano-mail mesh embedded in the synthaskin, and in my clothing too. Strong enough to deflect a blade or a blast. I faked the fall.”

  The words wrapped around her, but all she wanted—all she needed—were his arms holding her. It was enough.

  “Meso was behind the assassination attempts. The military wanted the truce broken, but they were in the minority. He managed to get himself elected to delegate so he knew where we were and when. He knew he could break the truce that way. He killed Mirsee...” His grip on her tightened. “And then he took you.”

  Rage, fear, pain, all flared into her from him. Words spilled out as she clung to him.

  “Meso claimed you as a prisoner of war. They still held a grudge from the last conflict, and since you were non-Terran, the treaty didn’t cover you. Once it was signed, you were no longer protected by diplomatic immunity. He declared you an assassin that had violated neutral territory. We had no legal right to claim you back.”

  She shivered and buried her face in his neck.

  “But then the Inc-Su told me you were mixed race. Being of human parentage meant you were protected by the treaty. The Tier-vane government itself gave us permission to hunt Meso. With evidence of the assassinations, he was declared rogue.”

  Being of human parentage...

  Was that the only thing that had saved her?

  “But that would never have stopped me either way, Tyree. I would have hunted him down myself, treaty or no.”

  “Because he killed Mirsee and gave you your scars?” she whispered, pain clutching her chest.

  “No.” He kissed her hair, kissed her neck. “Because he took you. You were the only thing that mattered, Tyree. Only you.”

  His voice shook. She didn’t doubt his sincerity, and tears fell down her face.

  “The Inc-Su came with me to find you. Even after I told them about the psi-weapons. We seized his ship and the technology. Your people are working on a shield to protect them from Tier-vane weapons in the future.”

  But what did the future hold for her and Zander?

  “Your scars are gone,” she whispered, and he eased back to look at her, a frown on his face.

  “Ironically, I didn’t get a choice over that,” he murmured. “After the Inc-Su pulled us from Meso’s ship, they placed me in a medical bubble next to yours. The regen did its work.” He brushed the side of his face. “In a strange way, I miss them. You always seemed so fascinated by them.”

  She touched the faint remainder of the scars that had once fanned across his cheek. “I admired them. I admired the man who bore them.”

  He looked hurt. His fear bled into her. “And now I no longer have them?”

  “I’m afraid of what that means.”

  He shook his head. “I’d always planned to—” He broke off. “I could see nothing beyond my mission. No reason for anything. But that changed when I met you.” He cupped her face. “Stay with me?”

  More tears fell down her face. “But I’m not the same any more. I’m damaged. And I’m Su. They’ll make me go back to Refuge.”

  Zander leaned forward to kiss away her tears. “You’re not damaged to me, though you’ll never be an assassin again. The Inc-Su council has granted you the right to choose. You can return to Refuge...or you can stay with me.” He released her to look her in the eye, his jaw clenched. “Or you can go anywhere else in the Territories you wish. Alone...if you wish.”

  “I can choose?” A chasm
opened before her. She had only ever been a Su assassin. What could she do now? “Where would I go? What would I do?” She gazed at him, helpless. “I’m not a diplomat.” A deeper ache filled her. “And I’m not Mirsee.”

  “No, you’re not.” He brushed back a strand of her hair, a warm smile on his lips. “You are Tyree, though no longer of the Su. And I want you to stay with me.”

  A sob caught in her throat. Warmth filled her, golden heat washing the pain away, a radiance brighter than euphoria. Even Communion had never lifted her soul like this. She was free. And Zander would be with her.

  With a smile, she traced the edge of his jaw with her fingers, stubble scraping her skin. “Only if you promise to get rid of this...”

  If you enjoyed reading Tethered, you may enjoy these other Breathless Press titles:

  Chosen: The Laws of Segragation, Book 1

  Island Urges: A Track-Marks Tale, Book 1

  The Calling: The Laws of Segragation, Book 2

  The Fabric of Reality

  Exiled: The Laws of Segragation, Book 4

  Available at Breathless Press

  www.breathlesspress.com

  Biography

  After spending twelve years working as an Analytical Chemist in a Metals and Minerals laboratory, Pippa Jay is now a stay-at-home mum who writes scifi and the supernatural. Somewhere along the way, a touch of romance crept into her work and refused to leave. In between torturing her plethora of characters, she spends the odd free moment playing guitar very badly, punishing herself with freestyle street dance, and studying the Dark Side of the Force. Although happily settled in the historical town of Colchester in the UK with her husband of 21 years and three little monsters, she continues to roam the rest of the Universe in her head.

  Pippa Jay is a dedicated member of the Science Fiction Romance Brigade, blogging at Spacefreighters Lounge, Adventures in Scifi, and Romancing the Genres. She’s a double SFR Galaxy Award winner, been a finalist in the Readers Favorite Contest, the Heart of Denver RWA Aspen Gold Contest (3rd place), and the GCC RWA Silken Sands Star Awards (2nd place), and a semi-finalist in the Kindle Book Review’s 2013 Best Indie Book Awards.