by Kevin Gordon
eyes drawn to his form—perfection in motion. She so wanted to throw her arms around him and drag him down, take him in the bowels of the world.
When she first met Denged, she knew not what to think of him. Gilc was young, barely sixteen cas when she was disciplined for the last time by a TELREC board of review. She couldn’t stand the formalities of being a TELREC—the submission to authority, the accountability, the standards she was supposed to live up to. She joined because of what happened to her in her youth, to try to break the foul beast of the fleshivals that consumed her alive. She had seen her mother, her father both laugh and jeer as others bid on her body, saw them take virtlives as others had their fun with her. She suffered merciless beatings by her father, vicious emotional abuse by her mother. She felt as an object for most of her young life—and object that no one wanted for very long. Joining the TELREC got her out of her home, got her a different place to live, and for a while, she found great joy from it. But the TELREC never wanted to punish people as she did. When she came across those who savaged children, she would vent all her anger, all her pain on them, slicing into their bodies and minds with joyful vengeance. When she was finally dismissed by the TELREC board, and was packing her things, Denged came in, a totally new man, unknown to her. She looked up, and saw his placid, child-like face looking down at her.
^Leaving?^ he asked.
^What’s it to you?^
^I’ve seen you, nest the reports about you.^
^And?^
That was when he came close and in that moment, she felt his strength, felt fear consume her whole. Her arrogance, her attitude disappeared in that moment. Then, the aura faded, and there was just him and her.
^I am assembling a group that will do what others won’t. A group that will rid Novan of what festers on its soil. And when we catch those who hurt the weak and the defenseless, we will show them no mercy. No TELREC laws will stop us; no Rellican morality will hold our blades. They will feel, in their final moments, what they have forced others to feel.^
She was an absolute to him from that moment on. No words of doubt or dissent, never did she balk at an assignment. The thoughts of those early times came back at her now. She stopped running, and Errece and Denged soon stopped as well, coming back to her.
^Why haven’t you dealt with Uld?!^ she cried, looking up at him with defiance for the first time since she became a Maenid. Denged came close, the aura of fear sending Errece away quickly, making Gilc struggle to stand straight.
^Denged . . . no,^ she cast, refusing to back away. ^You must answer me this! You promised when I joined you, that we would crush those who abuse others. We dealt with many, in those early roas. More and more, we deal with revolutionaries, insurgents, do more TELREC bidding, while Uld, Herdl, and those like them run free!^
The aura faded, and Denged lowered his head.
^I . . . I am sorry.^
Gilc almost collapsed nesting those words. She came close, and embraced him.
^I’m sorry, Denged.^
^You shouldn’t be. I feel that, more and more, the Maenids have become this thing, this machine, that needs to be fed. They need challenges that the perverted cannot give them. They glory in killing them, but take no satisfaction in it. As for Uld, well, the Monitors have stated that we are forbidden from killing Uld.^
Gilc was utterly shocked and dismayed. ^Why?^
^I do not know,^ he grumbled, frustrated. ^He must fit into Mal’s long-range plans. There are so many things going on, Gilc, that I cannot figure out. Too many schemes, too many hidden agendas.^ He straightened. ^When we first started, it was fine to strike out in a new direction. Now, I just want to be a soldier, I need my boundaries well-defined.^
She pressed her thoughts next to his, opening her mind in an intimate way. ^I understand.^
Gilc took up his hand in hers, holding one of his mighty hands in both of hers. The warmth was a narcotic to her, the sensation of living flesh and blood, pumping in sympathy to her own. His skin was rough to her, even though she had been though just as much—handled just as many weapons, climbed just as many walls and ladders and dark, dank places no one civilized ventured. She could feel every crease, every wrinkle as she held him, lightly running her fingers over the ridges that housed his veins, thick with fluid. She looked down at his hand, a hand that had killed so many, that had pried open so many doors and portals, that had saved her and every other Maenid countless times. She needed both of her hands to support its weight, it seemed to have been created on another world it was so dense and heavy. And yet, with the image of his eyes in her mind, his hand seemed gentle, and yielding, one that would never be raised against her, one that would only protect her. She ran her thumbs along his wrist, feeling the breadth of his bone and muscle, navigating through the tiny hairs on his skin as if she knew their every place. This was her moment, this was his surrender. She held him like this sometimes, lately more often than before. And all he could do is stand, subdued by her power, arrested by her touch. She may never have laid with Denged, never have allowed her hands and skin and eyes and tongue explore the beautiful depths of his body, but in this motion, in this microcosm of sex, she did to his hand what she longed to do to his body.
^When, Denged?^ she asked, almost begging.
^I . . . I do not know.^
She looked up into his eyes, her eyes now, for they were, for that moment, her possessions. In their minds, she came to him, and held him as a lover would, her arms circling around him countless times as he lost himself in her form. Their lips locked, their tongues blending into each other, as their mouths consumed each other whole. They became one body, one form, a union of mind and soul. Denged stumbled back, recoiling as if in pain, yet Gilc held onto him, pulling him close, holding onto his hand with all her strength. Eventually she let him go, felt the friction of his palm resist the departure, the gaze of his eyes move reluctantly away. Errece came back, motioning to a corridor up ahead.
^Can you sense that?^
Gilc and Denged both focused on the corridor.
^Two hundred, maybe three hundred people,^ replied Denged, wanting to rearrange his clothes, feeling indiscreet and vulnerable. ^Ilgin is there. You two move in directly, I’ll circle around, and come in through an access panel in back.^
Gilc reluctantly moved off with Errece, both masking their thoughts. Denged moved quickly down a small walkway, making his way into a low, dusty service duct. Discarded clothing littered the duct, and it stank with excrement, as it obviously was used as a toilet and garbage receptacle. A few rodents scurried by, and as he moved by them, he began to feel a strong pressure on his mind.
Must be a few traps in here.
As he moved forward, the pressure grew in intensity, becoming first and irritant, then weight that he struggled to bear. Never before did he feel such a weight on his mind.
What is this? It can’t be mechanical, and yet it doesn’t feel organic. Denged felt his every step grow labored, struggled to make his mind draw breath into his body, pump blood to his heart. What is this? I . . . I . . .
Suddenly, he felt his consciousness separate from his body, felt as if he was Denged no more.
^Have you ever dreamed, Hols?^ cast an unknown source. Denged couldn’t tell where the cast was coming from, or if it was even a cast, so close to his own thought-patterns it was.
^What? Where . . Where am I?^
^Have you ever dreamed, Hols?^ again asked the mind, in some eerie echo of Gilc’s pleading. Denged tried to move, but he felt no connection to his body. Somewhere, in a distant part of his mind, he could see two portals that probably were his eyes, but they were too far away.
^Who are—^
^Have you ever dreamed!^ demanded the mind, sending a violent tremor through Denged’s consciousness.
^No . . . yes, maybe,^ he replied haltingly. ^I don’t know, I don’t remember.^
^You used to dream, Hols. Before it all began, before it all happened to you. Then you had a few, terrible dreams. Then nothi
ng.^
^What’s it to you?^ demanded Denged, trying to assert himself.
^You are quite singular, Hols, the last and greatest of your kind. Unlike the others, you feel little remorse, or doubt.^
^I am not of doubt. I am of purpose, and accomplishment.^
^Don’t you ever want to improve yourself? Change yourself?^
^I am who I am, and who I will be,^ cast Denged firmly. ^To suggest otherwise, to think otherwise, would not be who I am.^
^A curious philosophy,^ replied the mind. ^Reminds me of Uld. He is a very singular man also! He never doubts himself, never questions his actions. If he is thwarted in his pursuit of a goal, he becomes patient, and bides his time, confident in the knowledge that eventually he will attain his goal. It is a common trait among predators in the animal kingdom. And he has achieved his goals, so far. As have you, my Hols.^
^How do you know so much about me? Why do you call me by that . . . other name?^
^Don’t you know the answer to that question?^
Denged analyzed the patterns of thought, the unique aspect of the cast words. ^You . . . are Ilgin.^
^Yes, Hols. I have spent much time with Mal. I have learned of things not even the Monitors know about. I know the genetic breeding program that brought you into existence. I know of the sentient suns . . .^
^The what?^ asked Denged, shocked for a moment. Laughter filled the void Denged was in.
^I’m sorry, my