by Brandon Hill
“No I’m not,” Isibar said, a forced nonchalance disguised his mixed fear and anger at the sight of the device. “If you want to know so badly, I married a Felyan.”
The doctor’s eyes widened. “Really, now?”
“Trust me. I’m not going to lie about that. Besides, it’s not like you’ve been interrogating me.”
“This is true,” the doctor said after a moment of consideration. “Do you have any children?”
“Yes.”
“How many?”
“ Ten.”
“You say it so casually,” the doctor remarked. “You must be used to it by now. But this is yet another thing you’ve noticed. Felyans, with their own kind, are no more fecund than humans are. But when a human breeds with a Felyan, they’re like mice. The births are understandably harder on human mothers, but Felyan females have physiological differences that make multiple births easier. But the children…” The doctor’s face hovered over Isibar’s.
“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Isibar said, unfazed by the man’s proximity, though he was more touchy-feely than guys normally were. But now wasn’t the time to ask him about his sexual preference, Not while he was spilling his guts. “So what about the children? Are you saying there’s something wrong with my kids?”
“Only if you think telepathy and telekinesis are wrong,” The doctor said.
Isibar laughed.
“You think it’s funny?” The doctor made it sound more like a statement than a question. “You don’t believe me?”
“No, I believe you,” Isibar answered, still recovering from his fit. “My kids can tell what I’m thinking, and some can lift things ten times their weight. And I’ve seen it with other half-breed kids. So that’s what you’re doing here? Milking them for their powers, or something?”
The doctor frowned darkly. “Nothing so quaint, I’m afraid. The Iconian government commissioned me to find a way to harness their power for military use.”
“Now why doesn’t that surprise me?” Isibar asked rhetorically. “Still, I don't see why you wanted hybrids. Some purebreed Felyans can do the same stuff hybrids can do. Sometimes I think my wife is reading my thoughts. I sure as hell get enough of that from when I go to the store.”
The doctor snickered. “Pure Felyans are only latent psionics, my dear Isibar, the same as humans. The talent lies in crossbreed children. Even you should know this. But-” he raised a finger, and his voice strained into a whisper, “individually, though their abilities are a sight to behold, it is a little-known fact that joined en masse, they become devastating, a destructive force unrivaled by any technology.”
Isibar decided he didn’t want to know how the doctor had found this out. “So where’d you get the kids to find your results?” He asked, changing the subject. “Not many Felyans deal with the Imperium.”
“It wasn’t I who procured them,” The doctor answered, “so I’m not entirely sure where they all came from, nor did I ask. You have the Felyans in the lab to thank for their procurement.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Isibar sneered. “Felyans don’t harm their own kind.”
“As a rule, they don’t,” the doctor said in agreement. “But some Hara’Kya Felyans have, shall we say, a ‘thing’ about half-breeds. Some, in fact, don’t consider them to be of their kind at all. Though they won’t say why, their hate runs quite deep. But only a few went to the lengths my colleagues did to acquire my children.”
“So that explains the disappearances,” Isibar’s tone had become low and resentful as he recalled the rash of kidnappings on An’re’hara a few years back. Cala had been expecting again at that time, and was particularly protective about their still-young children, which Isibar had gone to many extreme lengths to keep track of because of the general public fear. An’re’hara was a planet just this side of paradise, and kidnappings were virtually unheard of, even in the Felyans’ ancient past.
“But how do these kids fit into your ‘master plan’? You never told me that.”
“Oh, it’s simple, really,” the doctor replied. “They are to be weapons. I discovered everything about these children, far more than the Iconian government ever suspected. But rather than harvesting their powers for a weapon of the Imperium as I was ordered, I’m harvesting them for a weapon of my own, against the Imperium. The children have already had their higher brain functions removed, so they’ll do as I command. They possess a level of focus to their own abilities that gives them a wide range of usefulness. And once my studies are complete, they will be programmed to assassinate every key member in the Iconian Parliament and high-ranking military official. It’s quite simple, really. And with their powers, they will be able to do it silently, efficiently, and without a trace.”
The doctor studied the appalled expression on Isibar’s face with the passiveness of a biologist studying microbes in a petri-dish. “I told you their powers were formidable. Just think: the corrupt heart of the Imperium will be torn out, and each and every sycophant and would-be tyrant will be taken with them. The power vacuum will break its back, and the Alliance can use the confusion to clean up the mess.”
“Who disconnected their brains?” Isibar said, his voice distant and cold.
“Beg pardon?”
“The children!” He barked. “You said that their higher brain functions were removed. Who did it?”
“I did, of course,” the doctor said, his voice innocent, as if the act were no more despicable than shaking someone’s hand.
“You… bastard!” Isibar came unglued and struggled with all his might against the restraints, ignoring the pain in his wrists and ankles, but all in vain. Still, he pushed, the pain cutting through his haze of rage, reducing his efforts to nothing. At last, exhaustion took over, and he laid flat on the mattress, panting and wheezing, but the fire still burned in his eyes.
“Such a lack of temper!” The doctor said, clicking his tongue. “I think you need to be reminded of who’s in charge.”
The pleasure agonized him before he could protest, and left his body numb when it ended. His vision was flooded by tears, and the small rise in the mattress where his head lay was soaked through. Again, he didn’t want to imagine the conditions below his belt, despite the very unpleasant throbbing in his loins.
His wrists and ankles burned once again, and strength was nearly drained from his body.
“Oh, God …” he groaned, reeling from the device’s effects. His head swam, but things were coming back into focus. Curiously, he was alone in the room. The doctor was either utterly confident or naïve to have left him alone this way, he thought. But as the situation stood, there was nothing much he could do about it. His weapons and tools, down to even his subcutaneous blades had been somehow detected and confiscated.
“Not my day,” he said on the tail end of a sigh. In his mouth, he tasted the faint metallic tang of blood. That device of the doctor’s was more harmful than he first figured. Pleasure or not, nothing good became of hemorrhaging.
There was a hissing noise, and the wall at the left hand side of the room sectioned away into blackness. There was the sound of a soft exchange of air and an echoing sound of rapid footsteps before Mokomba appeared. He looked thoroughly flustered and frightened at the same time.
“Took you long enough,” Isibar said, but Mokomba made no reply, only checked behind him and then began to hastily undo the bed’s restraints. “I thought for a moment that you wanted to go to trial. I wasn’t going to forget about you, you know.”
“No time for jokes, mon ami,” Mokomba said as Isibar sat up and shook the blood flow back into his injured limbs. He tossed Isibar his gun from the folds of his lab coat. “I’ve fulfilled my end of our bargain. The doctor’s unconscious, and I have the information you wanted. Now you must-”
A yellow and orange blur cut off Mokomba’s words and knocked him to the ground. Quickly, Isibar looked over the bed and shrank back. A massive, muscular Felyan had him pinned to the ground, and struggling to no avail
under its crushing weight.
“You filthy human thing!” He snarled. “You lied to us! The doctor lied to us!”
“But… I told you… the truth!” Mokomba wheezed, his throat pressed onto by the Felyan’s powerful grip.
“Only when it suited your interests!” The Felyan bore his large fangs as if he were a serpent rearing for a strike. “I’ve been watching you for a long time. I know your nature! I can smell the fear on you … taste your greed. Your words are merely a means to an end. And you were a party to this. You used us as much as your keeper did! You die first.”
“Hey!” Isibar gave a whistle. The Felyan’s head jerked around, connecting him muzzle to muzzle with the gun. “You forgot about me.”
The Felyan shrank back, but his sneer deepened. “I should’ve taken care of you first, thief of our females!”
“Please …” Mokomba whispered, his eyes running over with tears. “Please, Isibar… don’t let him kill me! Remember the deal we made on our way here. On you honor … I beg of you …”
“Silence, human!” The Felyan commanded, snapping his head back towards his prey.
“Hey! Man with gun here!” Isibar pressed the pistol hard onto the Felyan’s nose to make his point. He deftly avoided the retaliatory snap of the alien’s jaws and slapped the tip of the pistol across his face.
“Don’t even think of killing him.” Isibar cast a sideways glance indicating Mokomba. “My bullets will be spelunking your brains before you get the chance. Now let the man go, and get lost.”
The Felyan gazed at him wordlessly, staying his ground.
Isibar pulled back the hammer. At this, the Felyan made a low growl of defiance, and then slowly moved off of Mokomba. Isibar kept the gun trained on him, and watched as the alien slinked away into the darkness beyond the door.
“You … saved my life,” Mokomba breathed, once certain of his relative safety. “How can I ever-”
“Save it.” Isibar dismounted the bed and tested his feet. he watched as Mokomba, eyes flitting nervously back toward the opening from which the Felyan emerged, strode towards what appeared to be a bare section of the opposite wall. With a touch, it opened into a cabinet that revealed the entire ensemble of his clothes and tools.
“We’re even now. I’ll admit I wasn’t sure if you’d come through for me, though. The way I saw you so quiet beside the doctor, I almost thought you’d sold me out.”
“Ah, yes,” Mokomba said. The doctor, she has a very … commanding presence. But as for this job, I have had enough of it. I want no part in her schemes for vengeance, not when it costs so many lives.”
“‘Her’?” Isibar paused in the middle of putting on his second boot. “You’re saying the doctor’s…?”
“A woman, oui,” Mokomba said. “Her full name is Selene Hayashibara. Don’t worry; you are not the first one to make such a mistake. While in her lab clothes, it is very hard to tell. But I have seen her in other apparel, and I assure you that she is most definitely a woman. Some consider her quite attractive, in fact.”
“I don’t do amoral psychopaths,” Isibar said sourly. At least he felt less uncomfortable with the way the doctor had touched him while they spoke. He’d been through harrowing situations throughout his life, but had never needed to decline the advances of someone of the same sex. This made things far less complicated. He finished pulling on his boots, strapped on his belt, and threw on his coat. He started to holster his gun, but thought better of it.
He checked his watch, and saw that only a day had passed. At least he knew that Cala wouldn’t start to worry that he hadn’t checked in. Knowing her, she would’ve called down the full might of the armies of Rhoma and King’s Knight to get him back if she had known where he was.
“Okay, let’s go,” he said.
“It’s about time,” Mokomba remarked, making no effort to hide his impatience. “I was wondering if you were going to wait until the new shift arrived, just to make it interesting. Discretion was never one of your finer points, a mon avis.”
Isibar shot him a silencing gesture, and then reached into his pocket where he’d stored a bolt from the Mistress’ circuit panel after the system purge. He threw it into the darkness beyond the door. Instantly, a yellow and brown blur erupted from the blackness beyond, accompanied by a loud snarl. Isibar shoved a stunned Mokomba to the side and slammed himself against the wall beside the door. With lightning speed, he fired off a shot at the blur, and it fell to the ground, limp and lifeless, hitting the table in its brief descent. There was a smoking hole in the Felyan’s head, and its neck bones stuck out in an unnatural angle.
“Stupid,” Isibar said, shaking his head. “He should’ve known I didn’t hear him move much beyond the door.” He glanced at Mokomba. “By the way, you got a gun for yourself?”
“We all were armed in the lab,” Mokomba answered.
“Except for you,” Isibar countered. “I found that strange.”
Since my first run-in with you, I lost my stomach for violence, as you saw with our guest.” He gestured towards the alien’s carcass, and then glanced toward Isibar, who raised a suspicious eyebrow. “Don’t act surprised; after you showed me what my dragons did to two keeps on Tantagel IX, can you blame me?”
“Not really, no.” Isibar said, sparing little time to think. The results of his atrocities would have made any would-be terrorist stop and think about their own actions. His dragons, further mutations on an already mutant strain, were completely uncontrollable, and once broken free of their bonds, laid waste to the very keep that hired him to engineer them for its own defense.
“The doctor reacted the same way when I was hired for this job,” Mokomba said, finishing. “Besides, I will most likely not need it.”
“You’re expecting me to cover your ass all the way back to my ship?” Isibar said, peering cautiously into the doorway.
“For what I retrieved and what I went through, you owe me this much at least,” Mokomba said. “And you do not receive it until we’re off of this planet.”
“Is the exit straight ahead?” Isibar gestured into the darkness beyond the doorway.
Mokomba nodded. “You will see a flashing green light, indicating a button. Press it, and the door will open. So, will you honor our deal?”
With trepidation, Isibar entered the darkness beyond.
“If I didn’t intend to, you’d already be dead.”
***
The door at the chamber's end opened into the false wall of an empty storeroom, then to a door on the far end of the lab. Mokomba had been right. With the exception of the dim bluish light that refracted throughout the tanks’ nutrient fluid, the main lab was empty and dark, the security systems deactivated thanks to Mokomba, its occupants gone for the day. But before they reached the metal staircase's bottom landing, Isibar stopped beside the master panel at the head of the corridor between the rows of tanks. He searched its controls and readouts, and finally spotted what he was looking for: a toggle switch for the emergency shutdown cycle.
“Hey!” Mokomba whispered from the staircase. Qu’est-ce que tu fais? We must go! Now!”
Isibar gazed sadly at the tanks, each holding a child of An’re’hara and lost Earth, kidnapped and violated by zealous hate-mongers and an idealistic madwoman. The horror of what had been done to them lay heavily upon his breast the longer he stared at their mindless forms. He missed Cala and his children. They had been lucky. There was no undoing what was done to these. And even worse, the task of notifying their families now fell on his shoulders. He grieved for each and every one of them, and the unpleasant duty he would have to bear once he got home –provided he could escape from here. But at the same time, he felt relief that at least there would be some resolution: an answer to their questions.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he flipped the switch.
There was the sound of power shutting down, and the fluid’s glow dimmed even more. In the diminishing darkness, he felt the tears roll down his face.
/> As he was lost in his emotions hand touched his shoulder. “Come! We have to go!”
“You know,” Isibar began, unaffected by Mokomba’s shoving, “in the elevator, when you told me about what went on down here, I didn't believe it. I refused to believe it, and that was why I kept asking you. I have to admit that you were the wiser man. I had to see it with my own eyes. And after that, it was at first a struggle to feign ignorance to keep myself from lashing out at that doctor, even though I was strapped down.”
“How do you think I felt?” Mokomba said. “I was a party to this; c’est vrai, but not by choice. The doctor lied to me and brought me to Icona. I had no way to escape, and so I worked for her, hoping to find a way out. I merely toyed with animals in my days on Tantagel IX. This–” He gestured towards the tanks “–was too much for me to bear.”
Reluctantly, he followed behind Mokomba and ascended the stairs to the elevator.
“Does this thing go all the way to the roof?” Isibar asked.
“Yes, it does. Why?”
“Homing device on my ship,” Isibar said, and tapped his watch, “like in those old spy movies from Earth. It’s cloaked, so once we get topside, we can get away without much trouble.”
Mokomba pressed the button for the rooftop. Isibar pressed his thumb upon the face of his watch in a rapid sequence, and then waited. As the elevator ascended, he leaned upon the wall across from the door, and exhaled. He closed his eyes, but a troubled look remained on his face that Mokomba noticed.
“Something wrong, mon ami?
“Yeah, you can say that. I can’t shake this feeling that we’ve still had it a bit too easy.”
“Comment est-ce? You seem to forget the Felyan that nearly killed me. Aussi, I retrieved the information you wanted, and I put the doctor herself out of our way. She was our biggest obstacle in this, and I used that sleeping device on her at full power, so she won’t be waking up for at least another hour or two.”