It was.
He pushed it once, twice, slamming on it wildly, as in a trance.
It didn’t give in.
His clothes were burning completely. He would stay here, in this hell without escape. He greedily reached for Acies’ weapon. Well, since he had no chance... it would be better to blow his brains out than burn alive. Yes, better that way.
He began struggling with the holster, which didn’t want to release its treasure. He finally let go of it, almost crying. He wanted to reach down for his own gun, but squeezing his hands toward the thigh turned out to be undoable. He tried to get out again, slamming the door in a wild panic. He cursed, thrashed, screaked...To no avail.
Suddenly, the door above him opened, jerked free with a decisive motion. Someone’s hand dived into the vehicle. Vesper grabbed it eagerly and immediately, in desperate move. He got out in a few, spastic moves. He crawled on the cabin, and fell off of it before anyone could hold him down. He crawled to the side, his whole body trembling. As far away from the hell that had almost been his end.
He only stopped a few yards further, and turned back, watching the black-clad silhouettes pull out a motionless Acies from the van. He closed his eyes when he realized what he’d just done. He’d run off, leaving his colleague at the flames’ mercy.
He slid to the ground and muffled a scream in his throat. Some people jumped over to him, extinguishing his clothes with bits of fabric. They dragged him along the ground for several yards full of harsh pain. He submitted to them limply, as if he weren’t quite conscious. He didn’t even react when his arms got twisted backward and cuffed with zip-ties. And then he was lifted by his singed sweatshirt’s collar, forced to kneel.
Only then he realized what was going on. He jerked weakly, opened his eyes wide...
And looked straight into the raging storm.
Aranea, Lord Renegade stood right in front of him, staring at him in silence. She had two men at her sides, both armed and dressed nearly identically to nighters, except for the silver moon on their shoulders.
“Are we taking him with us, Lady?” one of them asked quickly, and pulled out a bag with Red Cross on the sticker out of his pocket.
He ripped the packet swiftly and extended his hand toward Vesper.
“You want to live, little boy?” he said mockingly through clenched teeth. “Drink.”
Some of the red liquid spilled to the ground. The wonderfully tempting scent of real blood hung in the air. Vesper licked his parched lips. Hunger and fear boiled within him, elevating to insanity levels.
“We can always put you back in.” The renegade jerked his head toward the burning van. “Your choice.”
Nighter stared at him with fear. A bullet to the head, he sobbed in his thoughts with the remainder of his strength. Gents, please, can we negotiate? Bullet to the head.
“Leave it,” Aranea ordered suddenly.
She walked closer up to the prisoner, leaned over, and stared in his eyes.
“I used to be like you,” she said slowly. “And I believed in what you believe in now... so I understand you.”
She put her hand on his shoulder. He moaned in pain, feeling the singed clothing mold into his burned skin.
“Sometimes you just need a little bit of time to understand you’re fighting on the wrong side,” she broke off and sighed lightly. “What’s your name?” she ordered.
“Vesper,” he responded before he could think of any resistance.
She straightened and pulled her hand off his shoulder.
“I’ll give you some time,” she said. “I think you are quite close to understanding. It would be a pity to force you.”
She threw a telling glance at the renegade, who still held the blood bag in his outstretched hand. He nodded obediently, and withdrew his hand. He raised the packet to his lips and began drinking. He probably didn’t want to waste the precious liquid.
Vesper stared at him hungrily, saliva flooding his mouth. Then he glanced at Aranea, at her storm-raging eyes.
“I’ll... never... join... you,” he choked out with effort. “I’m a nighter... from the Warrior Family... and none of us have ever betrayed.”
“What about me?” she interrupted him, laughing lightly. “Well, I understand that my modest self is not that good of an example. I was just a number two. Ultor himself should cross over, then you’d understand.”
Vesper was silent, feeling helpless. He coughed again, weakly, gasping for air with effort. His whole body burned with pain, and his head spun. He would have fallen if it wasn’t for the renegade’s hand keeping him up by the back of his neck. He glanced with his blurry eyes at the van and the renegades bustling around it. They were swiftly taking some equipment out of it, maybe communication pieces, carefully protecting it from damage. The semi burned just like the remains of the two BMWs. Clearly all vehicles had been shredded by the rocket-propelled grenade, fairly and without any privileges.
The nighter gulped, moving his charred throat with effort. He stared at the scene, and tried not to look at Lord Renegade Aranea with all his strength. She’s so beautiful, a desperate thought raged in his mind. So beautiful.
“You will come to us yourself, freely,” Aranea said calmly. “And quite soon too, I think.”
He shook his head silently and looked away. He was too exhausted to get into any confrontations.
“Nighters are coming!” one of the side guards reported, pressing the micro-earpiece to his ear. “Modlin team is on its way!”
“We’re leaving,” she said instantly. “Now!”
Suddenly, the prisoner returned his eyes to her, pulled by an invisible force. Aranea smiled with satisfaction.
“Goodbye, Vesper!” she said, throwing him that magnetizing look again. “I like you, nighter... I’d like to be with another Warrior again, it would be nice.” A refined smile, full of erotic promise fluttered across her face. “See you soon!”
He jerked his head to the side, and forced his eyes to escape her, and didn’t answer. She just laughed, turned back, and ran toward hidden transporters. The renegades rushed after her. The one who still held Vesper now let go of him, and ran after his companions.
The nighter tumbled to the ground, limply falling on his left side. He saw the blurry silhouettes of the renegades disappearing among the trees. He closed his eyes as a wave of harsh trembles took over him. The scorched skin burned increasingly.
Bullet to the head, he thought. Did I really want too much?
***
Alacer’s face, when he leaned over the surviving nighter, didn’t predict anything good for him.
“Bunch of bodies, and one alive, slightly-injured Vesper,” the captain said icily through clenched teeth. “So as usual, nothing new. I’m starting to get used to it.”
He took a knife out and cut through the zip-ties, freeing the nighter’s hands. Vesper lifted himself up with effort, rested his hands on the ground, and sat up.
“Everyone’s dead?” he asked numbly. Alacer pursed his lips angrily. He didn’t answer.
“Acies?” Vesper choked out, begging.
“He burned,” the captain said coolly and straightened out.
The nighter hung his head helplessly, closed his eyes.
“Save us this little scene,” Alacer growled furiously. “Can you tell me what happened here? Why is Acies, or what is left of him, lying next to the van? Did he get out of it himself in this shape? And why are you lying hog-tied on the ground? Maybe slightly baked... but alive?”
Vesper clenched his fists. Couldn’t those damn renegades do a decent job for once and end this fucking asshole? He raised his eyes.
“Renegades caught up with us, Captain,” he choked out, forcing himself to stay calm.
“They killed everyone, but I understand they spared you,” Alacer said perfidiously. “They must really freaking like you, it seems. You probably have plugs with them all the way to the top.”
“No nighter has ever betrayed!” Vesper exploded. “Neit
her have I! So fuck off, Alacer, all right?”
“Be careful how you talk to higher ranks,” the captain growled, his eyes burning with fury. “Lord Ultor will decide whether you betrayed or not. This kind of stuff is beyond my competence. I just don’t like what I see.” He glanced at the ground marked with dark stains. “It smells to me like damn illegal blood. Get up!”
Vesper dragged himself to his feet with effort. He stumbled and nearly fell again.
“I already told you, theatrics won’t make an impression on me,” Alacer hissed. “Quit pulling a scene here like some hysterical pussy. You got a little singed, that’s all. You’ll be fine tomorrow, day after at the latest. Get in the car, now march!”
I was burning alive, you bastard! Vesper wanted to scream. Is nothing getting through to you? He muffled the scream within, calmed down.
“Yes, sir!” he said in a slightly trembling voice.
He walked slowly to the van, stared at by his worried colleagues’ eyes. He got in, and sat on the floor among the already-picked-up nighters’ bodies. Vesper stared at the wall, without saying a word. And didn’t even ask whether they had any food and wanted to help him out a little.
Renegade Lord Aranea’s tempting smile danced before his eyes again.
He imagined that he was looking right into Aranea’s dark eyes... and then purposely, and with premeditation, spat in her face. She disappeared instantly.
And he wanted to cry.
They started their journey back to Emów.
***
“I’ll beat the crap out of that bastard one day” Nidor whispered hatefully while bandaging Vesper’s burns. “Dick didn’t even give you first aid. If he at least gave you some burn spray, you’d feel different right now.”
“He considered me guilty and had convicted me in his mind already,” the nighter hissed through pain-clenched teeth. “Why would he mess about with a traitor? He thinks I deserved it all, and much more.”
“He’s gonna get what’s coming to him,” his friend growled quietly. “Verdicts like that are not his bag. Lord Ultor is particularly pissy about things like that. He’ll give him hell, you’ll see.”
“Actually Ultor will probably have something else on the agenda,” Vesper said grimly. “He called on us for the evening, all three of us. I’m sure it’s not for a first aid discussion.”
“Easy, we’ll get out of it,” Nidor said strongly. “And then we’ll pick up the subject... at the right time. Turn around.”
Vesper twisted obediently, displaying his back, where the skin was coming off in chunks. The captain shook his head, pursing his lips angrily. He took to dressing more burns.
“I’ll get him,” he said so forcefully, it made his voice hoarse. “No more Mr. Nice Guy. He went too far. I’ll wait as much as I have to and get him. Word of honor.”
“He thinks I’m a traitor,” Vesper repeated in a slightly resigned tone. “And if he convinces the lord of that... then I’ll believe it myself. Because maybe it’s true, and I don’t know myself anymore.”
Nidor got up swiftly, and walked around him. He leaned over his friend and looked him straight in the eyes.
“Listen, nighter,” he said seriously. “Are you trying to tell me I raised a renegade?”
Vesper answered him with a long look, just a look. He didn’t say a word. Then, finally, he shook his head.
“So stop talking nonsense,” the captain growled. “It’s true that all of us have stupid thoughts and tougher times. But you know which side you really want to be on, right?”
The young nighter agreed immediately.
“Sure,” he said with obvious relief. “Of course I do.”
“So we know the most important thing already,” Nidor said and returned to his patient’s back.
He began to bandage it fiercely, still swearing furiously under his breath.
My friend, Vesper thought closing his eyes. It’s really good that you are here, friend.
He raised the bag of blood—that he’d received from Nidor as soon as he got back to the base—to his lips. He took a good swig along with the feeling of growing relief and appreciation. He was so lucky not to be here all alone.
***
Lord Ultor stared at them with a harsh, attentive look. They sat in his office, trying very hard not to make a single muscle twitch on their faces.
“It’s high time we got a few things straight, gents,” he told them finally.
All three of them nodded eagerly. The looked at each other expectantly.
“Captain, you will start first,” Ultor ordered, looking at Alacer.
“My lord,” the other took up the invitation instantly. “I believe the situation had ripened to a critical state. And that we can no longer tolerate...”
“I will decide that,” the lord interrupted him coolly. “Give me facts. Only the officially confirmed ones.”
Nidor and Vesper sighed barely audibly, with relief. Alacer pursed his lips angrily, but got himself together immediately.
“This young nighter here, Vesper,” he said with ill-concealed distaste, “was accepted into our midst barely six months ago, during operation ‘Faust’ one thousand thirteen...”
“I was there,” the Lord stated. “Other facts then. Less obvious ones.”
Alacer let out a trembling breath.
“My lord,” he said determinedly. “Maybe I’ll just say what’s eating me. Vesper, as we all know, is not a fully-fledged nighter...”
“Oh yes?” Ultor asked, astonished, as if he’d heard such a revelation for the first time in his life. “And why do you say that?”
“Because...” Alacer stammered slightly. “Well, because Vesper is handicapped. He came in contact with real blood too early. As a result of Captain Nidor’s error, by the way.”
Lord Ultor’s eyes narrowed in especially hostile slits.
“Captain,” the lord said dryly. “Did you read about it in any official bulletin, or are you repeating unconfirmed, and what is worse, quite freely-interpreted rumors?”
Alacer gulped rapidly.
“But everyone knows about it,” he protested weakly. “He killed at a short distance during his first mission...”
“Early contact with real blood is unadvisable, yes,” Ultor interrupted him. “Nonetheless, it doesn’t necessarily result in a handicap.”
“But a Warrior like that is later oversensitive!” Alacer blew up. “He can’t control his aggression and will to hunt. He’s unfit for any operational work, as we can see pictured here!”
Ultor got up from his desk slowly. Steel flickered in his eyes.
“I stand pictured in front of you,” he said through his teeth. “Do you think, Captain, that artificial blood existed thirteen hundred years ago? I assure you that it didn’t. I started my Warrior career on very real blood. Are you suggesting I’m not fit for any operational work?”
The captain paled. He didn’t answer.
“So let’s put all handicap rumors aside. I’m asking you personally,” the lord continued. “So far, you are moved by plain prejudice. And when it comes to how Captain Nidor led that mission, have you found any official comment on that matter anywhere?”
Alacer shook his head silently.
“You have no basis then to consider it faulty publicly,” Ultor stated. “I spoke personally with Captain Nidor on the mission course of action. Usually, if I find mistakes, I point them out to everyone, not to point fingers at anyone, but for our mutual study and use. Since I haven’t reported any mistakes, that means I didn’t find any.” He stared at the captain harshly. “I understand you think you noticed something that escaped my attention. I’ll gladly hear your thoughts, because I’m obviously not infallible. But I would appreciate it if you informed me of such findings first. I have to admit, I don’t feel too comfortable in a situation where my potential errors are publicly commented on without my knowledge.”
“But, my lord, I...” Alacer stammered.
Ultor interrupted him with
a quick wave. He sat back down in his chair.
“Captain Nidor’s leadership during that mission is not the subject of today’s discussion,” he stated briefly. “I propose to move it to another date, if you actually have something to say on the matter. Please, continue with the facts on the reason for today’s meeting. Essential ones this time.”
Vesper closed his eyes for a moment. He wanted to kneel before the Lord and thank him profusely. Finally, that worm got his ass chewed. Finally.
Alacer took a deep breath, like before a dive.
“I do realize that at the present moment I can talk only about speculations and suspicions,” he said in an unusually calm tone. “Nonetheless, I’ll be so bold to state that if I could speak of evidence, the subject would likely be discussed by a Capitol meeting,” he stared at Ultor determinedly, “and not by our modest company here.”
Lord Warrior Ultor watched him carefully, then slowly, nearly unnoticeably, nodded. Vesper felt his heart rise up to his throat.
“And our nighter friend wouldn’t be sitting here with us, but would be chained in the Bunker,” Alacer finished off with a note of relief. “So, forgive me, my lord, but I can only talk of speculations at this time. Of facts loosely connected together, which are not the basis for suspicions in themselves. But occurring as such, and not in other configurations, they wake my distrust. So as the nighters’ captain, I feel obligated to point them out. That’s all.”
Ultor nodded silently again. Alacer kept talking, emboldened.
“Wherever Vesper goes, renegades show up. Bodies fall around, only he comes out unharmed. Well, maybe not quite unharmed, but always in a state allowing survival. Also, those who enjoy his favor are spared by the enemy as well. Captain Nidor could be used as an example, and we could also look that way at Vesper’s human friend, Piotr Jazwinski, known as ‘Crumbly’. Those two get out of particularly nasty situations quite often, as if the renegades don’t really want to harm them. As if someone had put in a good word for them.” The captain sighed sorrowfully. “I don’t know whether that means treason. I don’t dare to state anything like that. But you know yourself, my lord, that lately it has become painfully possible.” He stared at Ultor shrewdly as if he wasn’t completely sure if bringing up Aranea’s defection was the safest move.
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