She ignored anything behind her.
The Merkiaari retreated from her. She followed them out of the castle grounds and into the devastated town of Silver Bay. Their retrograde movement was obvious. Did they do that? Weren’t they supposed to fight to the death? She preferred to kill them to the last trooper, but they weren’t cooperating. She used her sensors to analyse their movement, and advanced to cut them off. She fired and manoeuvred, fired and manoeuvred, fired... and her weapons ran dry.
Awkward!
She dodged into cover and reloaded her cannons. She ignored the incoming fire kicking up debris to ring off her armour. An occasional glancing blow rocked her body as she worked, but she locked her legs and her gyros compensated.
Reloaded now, she went full Zelda.
Oh. My. God! It felt great to let go. She opened up with everything. Rockets and gatling cannons together. The Merki went to ground in an effort to escape. Sir Harry’s men cheered and took advantage. The suppressive nature of her fire let them advance unhindered. Sir Harry led from the front.
Ellie’s HUD locked up one target after another, and she serviced them with extreme prejudice. Before she knew it, she was in amongst them. She should have found cover and used it to good effect as William was doing, but she didn’t have time to consider the stupidity of her actions.
She was busy.
Slaughtering Nicky’s killers. And it was a slaughter now.
The Merkiaari were being hit from both sides, and they didn’t seem able to respond as a unit. Maybe she’d killed their officers or maybe they’d decided to go out fighting, but no matter the reason, they stopped retreating. That was kind of inconvenient, because Ellie was behind their lines and cut off.
And the hidden Merki grav sleds revealed themselves.
And they fired.
* * *
Part III
22 ~ Staying Human
Aboard Blood Drinker, At Station Keeping, Deep Space
Davey whimpered as he slowly rotated the obedience collar around his neck searching for a seam that wasn’t there. It had to be there, but no matter how hard he looked he couldn’t find it. It was perfect. Seamless. He’d been searching for... God, how long had it been now? Months since his capture, but he hadn’t started looking back then. Much too risky. Touching an obedience collar was forbidden and risked punishment.
He hadn’t been out of his cell since Valjoth tired of him. It was then he’d started his search. Weeks ago at least. He’d been alone with no distractions. The perfect time to escape. Surely the answer must be there. A way out of this hell. A way to survive and make Valjoth pay. He just needed one chance. Just one. He had to do it. There wasn’t anyone else. He was the last Human. If not for his own reflection, he’d forget what they looked like.
Davey laughed, the sound broken and a little mad.
Mad? Was that what he was? It could be true, but madmen never knew that about themselves. That meant he wasn’t mad, didn’t it? Because he did know he was mad. But that didn’t make any sense either. If he knew he was mad, it meant he wasn’t. So he wasn’t mad after all... but he could be because he’d decided he wasn’t.
Screw it. He didn’t care if he was or not. He just wanted the collar off, and a chance to kill Valjoth. Now that was a mad ambition for sure. He had no way to kill the creature, but that didn’t matter. He’d try and die. A sort of victory. He’d be free then.
Davey peered myopically at the poor reflection of himself on the inside of his cell door. It shone dully. A lucky thing because the piss-poor reflection and his fingernails were all he had to work with. He rotated the collar endlessly with his left hand while dragging the thumbnail of his right over the rim, trying to find a seam that wasn’t there. His neck was sore from friction and his eyes blurred with fatigue, but he didn’t quit searching. One way or another, he would escape.
Davey no longer heard his whimpers. The sound had become part of him. He even heard it in his dreams. It was the background music to his life. It meant nothing. All that mattered was finding a weakness in the collar. A weakness it didn’t have. There must be something. Anything! But there wasn’t. The collar gleamed. Its perfection mocked him with its polished symmetry. He kept trying.
Davey peered more closely at his own reflection, and a boy-man looked back at him. His eyes were sunken and stared at him from dark pits in his head. Those were the eyes of a madman for sure. They didn’t look real. The sight of his first beard made tears shimmer and fall. He was so gaunt from his hunger-strike that his own family wouldn’t recognise him. He tried to see his dad in his own features, but to his horror he couldn’t remember what he’d looked like!
“Oh God, why are you doing this to me?” Davey croaked as he fought to remember. “Please. Not this.”
If he forgot all those who’d died, it would be like they hadn’t existed. He had to live. He had to escape to tell everyone what Valjoth had done. Davey had hated history at school. It had seemed a waste of time looking back at the past when there was so much to look forward to. Funny, because all he had was the past now.
He stopped twisting the collar, and hammered his forehead into the door.
Remember. Slam! Remember. Slam! Remember dammit! Slam slam slam!
And he did. The headache was worth the price of his memories. He remembered his dad, and he remembered the blood. He remembered the fighting, and the mad dash as the teachers evacuated the school. He remembered them shielding the students with their bodies and falling. He remembered the stampede. He remembered tripping and being buried in bleeding bodies. He remembered everything. He needed a compad and time to write it all down. He dared not forget. All he had now were his memories and vengeance.
Davey stared at the collar’s reflection and went back to work. He was coming to believe it was all of one piece. There was no flaw to feel under his probing fingers, and nothing to find in its reflection. No hope. Nothing to find. No reason to keep trying except habit, and a desperate need to keep from dwelling upon the past.
How was it possible? It couldn’t be one piece. There’d been an opening when Valjoth put it on him. It couldn’t be solid, yet it undeniably was! It could strangle him, which meant it had the ability to shrink. Where did the excess metal go? It must go inside; where else? Therefore, it was hollow and must have a seam where it moved.
QED.
But there isn’t a bloody seam!
There must be.
There isn’t!
There must be.
There isn’t!
There...
Slide the collar and blink hot tears away. Slide the collar and bite cracked lips. Slide the collar and blink hot tears away. Slide the collar and lick salty blood.
There must be a way out of the collar. How would he have made it? He would never! Pretend. Just pretend, Davey. How would he do it? He’d use a nano-printer for sure. There’d been one on campus for the engineering students. But Merkiaari didn’t use nanotech. How could he reverse engineer anything without tools or nanotech? It was impossible. He’d been taught nothing was impossible. There were only problems with undiscovered solutions. The arrogance of that made him want to laugh or scream. Maybe both.
Davey had been bright at school. His teachers had said he could be chief engineer on a ship if he applied himself... he flinched away from those memories. He didn’t want to remember the teachers. They’d abandoned him. They’d died and sent him to hell. Well, he hoped they felt bad. He would have wished them in hell for what they’d done to him, only they weren’t here were they? How was that fair? He was in hell and they weren’t.
Slide the collar and blink hot tears away. Slide the collar...
He wished he had a proper mirror, but the Merkiaari didn’t use them. They had a view-screen in their cabins to display their image, or they used a tablet. Merkiaari tablets were basically compads with many of the same functions. Recording and displaying an image was the least of their abilities.
Slide the collar and close hot eyes. He neede
d to rest them for a while. Everything was turning blurry. He opened them after a ten count, and slid the collar...
“There must be a way,” he croaked. “I’ll find a way.” He didn’t believe it, but he had to pretend he wasn’t insane to try. “I don’t want to go mad, do I Dad? Not like gramps.”
Maybe it was already too late. He could be loony already for all he knew. His grandpa was supposed to have been a little touched, but his dad had always smiled proudly when he said it, like it was a joke. Trying to kill Valjoth was nuts. He’d never get the chance. Besides, how long had it been since Valjoth had even taken an interest in him? Ages. The last time was just before the jump.
Davey glanced at the scratches next to the door. Each line represented a day, and there were hundreds. He had no way to count time accurately, but the lights dimmed at night. He’d decided that was close enough. Valjoth hadn’t summoned him since the jump to... to wherever they were now. It must be somewhere in Human space. He thought so at least. Why else would Valjoth be hiding? Fleet would blow them out of space when they found them. That was why. He would die cheering when it happened. It would save him the trouble of trying to kill Valjoth.
Davey laughed tiredly. If Valjoth didn’t summon him he couldn’t kill him, but he needed the collar off as well; and that simply wasn’t going to happen. Deep down he knew it. What was left? Suicide was always an option. He’d considered it a few times while writhing on the deck in agony. If he made Valjoth angry enough to forget himself, he might use the collar to kill him. Oh dear what a shame. With luck, he’d piss himself and leave a mess behind as well as his corpse.
When the cell door shot open it was hard to say who was more surprised. One moment a dull reflection confronted Davey, the next Valjoth did. Before Davey could even think of lunging, Valjoth reacted and Davey fell to the deck screaming in agony. He was on fire. The agony was so intense he expected to see flames and smell crisping flesh, but the collar didn’t work that way. There wouldn’t be any physical damage. It was for punishing or killing slaves not maiming them. The Merkiaari called it training. Not that it mattered what they called it.
Hours later, or maybe it only felt like hours, the pain ended. Davey lay on his back and stared dazedly at the overhead lights. They were still bright. Not hours then. Valjoth obviously didn’t want to kill his pet. Too bad. Davey pulled hopelessly at the collar. It was still there. Still unbreakable. He rolled onto his side, and then onto his belly to push himself onto hands and knees. The next wave of agony sent him crashing back to the deck in convulsions. His face slammed repeatedly against the floor, and his nose sprayed blood.
Darkness rushed in and saved him from further damage.
Unconsciousness was a form of freedom, but it didn’t last. It never did. He was in hell and what was hell for? Torment of course. He was doomed to return, and so he did. He pushed himself up to his knees and froze. Valjoth was standing in the corner watching him. He lunged, and crashed to the deck unable to breathe.
“Foolish,” Valjoth growled. His English was poor but understandable. “Human pride. Not... not...” Valjoth didn’t have the words. He adjusted the collar to let Davey breathe and continued using a mixture of Merki and pidgin English. “You have no strategy. Pride is not a substitute. I’ve given you nothing but time to learn your place, and yet I find this pathetic excuse for a servitor awaiting me. You do not wash, you do not eat, you do nothing but make tears. They are worthless and so are you. I should end you.”
“Do it!” Davey screamed. “Kill me! I swear I’ll kill you if you don’t!”
The collar tightened again, and suddenly Davey couldn’t catch his breath. It was hard to say how much of his words Valjoth understood. Davey suspected he understood English better than he spoke it. Usk didn’t understand it at all, and used a servitor to translate for him. Valjoth rarely did that. It was a very small thing to base his suspicions on, but Davey had nothing better.
“A waste. I saved your life. You should thank me.”
Davey would’ve liked to respond, but he was too busy suffocating. Coloured lights burst in his vision, and he began the journey toward oblivion again. Valjoth finally realised the problem and used his controller. Davey gasped and panted for breath. Blood pounded in his head, making his headache ten times worse.
“I. Rage. You!” Davey screamed.
Valjoth raised the controller again. He seemed determined to train his pet this time. He would normally have left before now. Davey grabbed the collar hopelessly trying to prevent it strangling him. It did no good, it never did, but this time as his vision burst with coloured lights he learned something important. As the collar tightened it grew in thickness beneath his desperate fingers. He felt it. It didn’t slide. All his desperate searching for a weakness had been for nothing.
Full of despair, Davey blacked out.
* * *
23 ~ Learning Lessons
Aboard Blood Drinker, At Station Keeping, Deep Space
Davey awoke still on the floor. His blood had dried where he’d smeared it during his earlier convulsions. How long did blood take to dry? It didn’t matter. Any guess he made wouldn’t help his situation, and his torment wasn’t over yet. One of the ship’s servitors had joined them.
Davey glared at his audience, and Valjoth gnashed his fangs at him. He shivered at the sight. Merkiaari laughter was always at someone’s expense and he was the target. Davey had to admit his act of rebellion had been pitiful. He pushed himself painfully up to his knees, and rubbed a hand over his face. Dry flakes of blood fell like black snow to the deck. He didn’t try to stand. Less distance to fall next time.
Davey recognised the new visitor as a Lamarian. The creatures were tall and willowy, and only like Merkiaari or Humans in a general way. Two arms and legs, one head, two eyes and so on. They were very docile creatures and completely trusted by their masters. He despised them for that, but feared his reason for it. Would he become like them one day? Would he bow and say thank you for the abuse heaped upon him by Valjoth? Would he thank his master for allowing him to live as a servitor?
Davey feared the answer might be yes.
There were quite a few different kinds of alien aboard the ship; all of them collared servitors. Lamarians outnumbered all but the Merkiaari, but Davey didn’t recognise this one. No reason he should. It wasn’t as if he ever had visitors. He usually had other things on his mind during those rare times he’d attended Valjoth outside his cell.
The alien studied Davey in a glum silence. Glum because Lamarians had v-shaped faces caused by noses that were both wide and flat. Their expressions were very different to anything a Merki or Human could produce. They had bulbous eyes high on their heads, and tiny mouths that couldn’t smile as far as Davey knew.
He’d never spoken with a Lamarian let alone touched one, but its mottled blue-grey skin looked glossy and tough under the lights. That seemed odd when he considered how slight they were. Willowy didn’t begin to describe how weak they appeared in comparison to him or a Merkiaari. A feather could knock one over.
The Lamarian’s onyx eyes watched him calmly from widely spaced bulges at the top of its v-shaped face. Davey wondered what it was thinking. Did it wonder the same about him? Probably. It must be curious. He was the only Human on the ship. A curiosity, like a zoo animal he supposed. He’d have dozens of questions in the Lamarian’s position.
Valjoth said something that Davey didn’t catch. The language wasn’t Merkiaari or English. The servitor bowed and replied in the same language, the tones melodic, and handed Valjoth his controller.
Davey shook his head at the sight of such a precious thing given away so casually. What he wouldn’t do to gain possession of the remote that controlled him. Stealing it was the next best solution to removing the collar clamped about his neck. He was starting to think it was the only solution.
Valjoth spoke and the Lamarian translated in perfect English. Davey was amazed. He’d never thought to hear such again.
“It’
s my honour to be Scholar Evrei Xabat. The Great Lord has assigned me to you as your tutor.”
“You can tell him to kiss my ass!”
Evrei bowed, and did so.
Valjoth gnashed his fangs. He seemed to think it a fine joke. He brandished the controllers he held, and triggered one of them. Davey tensed expecting fiery agony, but it was Evrei who screeched and fell to the deck.
Davey lunged, trying to snatch the controllers out of Valjoth’s clawed hands. He didn’t get far. He collapsed in agony, and his screams joined Evrei’s in a symphony of mutual torment. Tears of frustration blurred his vision. He stared at Evrei and felt something other than hate for the first time in too long. Pity and shame. Punishing him for his words was one thing, but tormenting Evrei was completely unjust.
“Stop!” Davey screamed, choking on the word. He’d never pleaded for anything from Valjoth before, but Evrei’s pain was his fault. “StoooOOOoop!” he howled the Merkiaari word.
And Valjoth did.
Davey panted as his pain slowly ebbed from outraged nerve endings. Valjoth grinned and made weighing motions with the two controllers, one in each hand. God how he hated him. If there were a way to do it he’d kill Valjoth a hundred times over in the most painful way possible. He would bargain his life away for the chance.
Evrei staggered erect and bowed to Valjoth in apology.
Watching his humiliation made Davey sick. His rage peaked until he shook with it, or maybe it was shock. The collars inflicted unimaginable agony. He didn’t have to imagine unfortunately. He’d been subject to Valjoth’s use of it many times. It felt like being submerged in liquid fire.
“The Great Lord bids me inform you he’ll no longer accept noncompliance.”
Davey shakily rose to his feet, and lunged again. If he could just get his hands on the controllers... he didn’t make it two metres. The collar clamped down so hard, Davey felt sure it would sever his neck. He crashed to the deck, and listened to Evrei screaming. This time Davey was unable to plead for mercy. He could barely breathe.
Incursion: Merkiaari Wars Book 5 Page 17