by Corin Cain
I avenged his death. That Scorp was the first of countless more I’d kill during my hundred years of service.
But while I avenged his death – I couldn’t save his life.
That night, when we’d all returned to our Reavers, covered in blood and bruises, we turned on the auto-pilot and drank ourselves into a stupor.
Then, we’d fought – us brothers in arms. We fresh-faced Aurelian recruits screamed at each other. We yelled. We punched each other with feral brutality, until the pain of our comrades’ fists was enough to cloud our thoughts of fear, and sorrow.
“Training.”
That’s what you call it – the fighting and brawling among recruits.
We call it training. We conduct it in sand-strewn arenas, and while wearing workout gear, all to save face.
But the truth is: We new recruits needed the pain of fighting among ourselves to block out our rancid fear, and the horrible memories of the fate our brothers had faced as they’d died by our sides.
In some ways, the fighting we’d done on the Reaver, that first night, was as much responsible for forging the Bond between Hadrian, Kitos and I as battling the Scorp had been.
We three had brawled together. Fought, and punched, and yelled. Fighting – even among ourselves – kept us sharp, and we sharpened our iron well that first night.
We drank, too. Drink dulls your senses, and together my battle brothers and I had hoped the combination would give us dreamless sleep.
Instead, we were all haunted that night by the whimpers and screams of the men who’d died all around us.
I drag myself out from my dark thoughts. Instead, I look at the bright hope, sitting in the medical chair in front of me.
No – I don’t want to make Allie suffer any pain, but if she needs it, she needs it.
She’s a strong woman – and I can’t take the choice of sedation away from her.
“AI – proceed.”
The steel tentacles of the med-bay chair extend. One of the probing, steel arms moves to Allie’s right forearm. A sudden beam of bright, fiery laser shoots out and scorches the flesh of her arm.
The metal restraints curled around Allie’s arms and legs keep her perfectly in place – but I can still feel her agony through the Bond. Allie hisses out in pain, gasping for relief; but she wears her agony with the resilience of an Aurelian.
More than that – the grief in her Aura fades as the pain floods her body. I know what she’s doing. Sometimes the physical pain is nothing compared to emotional distress. Sometimes, it can even help drown out the more painful emotions.
Her pain floods through the Bond, and I feel it as though it’s my own. My rage builds. I hate to see innocents suffering. I never want to see my mate in pain like this again.
“Do you need me to stop it?” I ask her through gritted teeth. “Do you need sedation?”
Tears are streaming from Allie’s eyes as the surgical laser tortures her, burning deep within her skin. But beneath the tears, her eyes flash defiantly.
“Fuck, no,” she hisses. “I can handle it… I can fucking handle it.” She snarls, and I realize I’ve never seen someone so strong in all my life.
Concern and shock suddenly pour through the Bond – this time from my triad.
“Everything is under control,” I telepath. “Our mate is not in danger.” I know I have to respond – to keep them from leaving their posts and running to Allie’s aid.
Allie could have taken sedation. She could have taken an injection to numb the pain of this procedure. Instead, she bears down on it, clenching her jaw – crushing the pain with her iron will, before the pain can crush her.
It hurts me to watch, but I force myself to. I force myself to feel every ounce of pain being broadcast through our shared telepathic Bond. If I am to be linked to Allie for the rest of my life, I need to be able to handle when she’s in pain. Life is not all beauty and goodness. I will try and ensure she never experiences pain, but if there are times she suffers, she needs me to be clear-headed through them.
I clench my fist…
Gods! I can’t take it. I can’t take her pain. I thought I could – I thought I needed to – but, instead, all I’m learning now is how horrifying it is when Allie suffers.
I swear to myself that I’ll never let anyone hurt her, or ever take her from me. Allie is mine, by the will of the Gods, and I will keep her safe wherever she goes.
The surgical beam mercifully stops. Allie lies in the chair, panting desperately. She’s faint – her eyes barely focusing.
I hate to ask this next question – but I must.
“Do you want the other modification fixed? The shift-disrupter?”
My question is a probe.
Most conventional ships use combustion engines – driven by fusion or anti-matter engines. Only Aurelian Empire ships, Toad battle cruisers, and a few of the very wealthiest of humans have access to Orb-Drives.
Yet her device is specifically designed to disrupt Orb-Shifts.
If she agrees – if she does want her shift-disrupter re-activated, it can only mean that somewhere along the line, she's planning to use it again.
The question is – why?
It’s clear why she had the shift-disrupter implanted – because she was on the run from the Aurelian Law Enforcement, and because Enforcement ships all use Orb-Drive technology. She knew the device could give her an opportunity to escape.
But now she’s with us… Does she want to have the device reactivated to use it against us? To escape us once again, when our Orb-Drive is finally repaired?
Or does she merely want to be prepared – in case she’s captured by another group of Aurelians. Whether Empire-affiliated, or Rogue, does Allie view that as a real possibility?
I know I won’t gain any specific information if she asks for her device to be restored – but it will be reassuring if she refuses.
I almost pray she does refuse.
“Yes,” Allie says. “I want it repaired.”
It’s good I didn’t make that prayer, as the Gods have chosen not to answer it.
I swallow. I can grant her this request – but I can’t watch her go through more torture.
“Very well,” I tell her, “but, please, Allie – take a shot of sedation before the procedure this time. I can’t watch you go through that torture again.”
She nods slowly. “Okay. I’ll take a shot.”
One of the probes directed by the AI darts down, pricking her neck with a needle. Instantly, Allie’s pain is soothed – I know, because I feel the relief through the Bond.
While I can’t blame her for needing the pain – because the raw agony of the surgical procedure calmed her from the grief of remembering her little sister – I couldn’t bear to see her suffer any longer.
That’s why, even though I want to ask more about her sibling, I don’t. She doesn’t need that additional emotional pain right now.
I wish I could, though. I’d like to start planning right away about how best to help her track her sister down. Hadrian, Kitos and I might be on the brink of losing our ranks with Aurelian Law Enforcement, but I’m still going to treat this as an official investigation.
In my head, I work through a list of tasks. First, I’ll compile a list of suspects. The disappearance was years ago, which is going to complicate things, but I’ve solved two missing persons cases before and I know the procedure.
The only bad part? Both times, the missing person I’d been seeking had been killed long before I’d even begun searching for them.
Time is not on our side. I want to ask more questions, but I’m not going to while Allie’s under sedation and still dealing with her grief. Instead, I keep my mouth shut. Allie has suffered enough today. She’s faced enough challenges. I don’t want her being trapped in grief to be an additional one.
The steel tentacles of the AI begin their work again, this time searing away at the implant in her left arm. No pain flares through the Bond this time. Our Aurelian pain r
elief is much more effective than the crude hydro-morphines and opiates used by human surgeons. Allie will sleep peacefully during this procedure, and will wake up fully healed and with her device working once again. In fact, the AI takes only three minutes to restore the shift-disrupter on her left arm – recharging the capacitor cell within it to allow for another disruptive pulse.
I hope I’m not making a foolish mistake by giving her the back the very same tools she’d planned to use to take us down. I’m wary – but if I want our mate to trust and respect us, I have to demonstrate trust and respect first.
And at least now, if another Aurelian triad tries to grab her, they won’t be able to Orb-Shift away. She’ll have a weapon to use against them – and we’ll be able to catch up to her.
And now, if a human tries anything? A sleazy slaver, like that Spur character?
Well, that reactivated shock-weapon embedded in her right arm is very fucking lethal, even for a larger human male. She’s safer already.
But are we any safer? Am I leading my triad into death by trusting her?
There’s only one certain way of winning Allie’s trust, and ultimately her heart. We need to find her sister – alive.
And, if I can’t do that, we at least need to demonstrate that we’ll work to protect her, and help her for the rest of her life.
Allie’s head suddenly jerks as she almost nods off. She’s drowsy from the painkillers.
“The procedure is over,” I tell her. “Let me help you to your chambers.”
Allie gives me a loopy smile, and I’m happy to see it, even if it’s only caused by the potent painkillers and not because I’ve earned her beautiful smile.
I carefully help her up from the chair and escort her to her bedroom.
My mate will no longer endure the punishment brig – although the prisoner cell isn’t that much better. It’s a simple room – equipped with a bed, and nothing else. There’s a door on the interior wall that leads to the small, functional bathroom with a shower and toilet. Admittedly, it’s much nicer than the punishment brig she’d been in before, but still hardly to the standards of our crew quarters.
I lead her to the bed, gently helping Allie lie down on top of it.
At any other moment, being alone with the woman of my dreams – touching her, smelling her scent – would have driven me wild.
After witnessing her go through all that pain and grief, however – in addition to watching her flesh carved open during that medical process – I feel no arousal.
Because of the sedatives, Allie barely feels anything.
I might not feel arousal, but that’s not to say I don’t feel. I feel fiercely protective of my mate.
I know I am being naive to think she feels even a fraction of the affection my triad has for her – but I truly believe that will come with time – if we earn it.
And, at least, we have time, now.
Now she’s Bonded to us, Allie isn’t constrained by the ticking clock of human mortality any longer, like the billions of her race that drop like flies before they ever even witness a fraction of the wonders of the universe.
Allie now has thousands of years of life stretching ahead of her. Long enough for her to grow to care for me and my triad?
Even if we have to wait a century for that – a millennia - we have to keep her safe and alive in the meantime. One day she will accept her future. One day, Allie will grow eager for her destiny. Her entire life, she’s been used and abused by men for their own pleasure. My battle-brothers and I have to show her that life with my triad will be a totally different experience – and the best fate any woman could desire.
I tuck Allie into the bed.
She mumbles something under her breath, then slowly closes her eyes. I stand and look down on her – watching as Allie falls into a deep sleep.
Suddenly, I imagine two little babies next to her, cuddled up against their mother. Our babies – fathered by myself, or one of my battle-brothers. It doesn’t matter; they’ll all be our children.
The thought of spawning sons – healthy, vibrant Aurelian babes with magnificent futures ahead of them – is the only meaning my triad and I can have in this harsh universe. For that reason, Allie is the light at the end of a dark tunnel of blood and conflict.
The door hisses shut behind me as I leave her chamber.
I’d rather have stayed – to have just watched her sleep for hours – but I still have responsibilities to talk care of.
I stride up the hallway, back to the cockpit at the front of the ship. Kitos and Hadrian look up from their gunnery stations.
The controls of the two Orb-Cannons don’t have to be manned at all times – we have AI programmed to run general defense – but for a warrior species like ours, it’s a calming feeling to scan the empty space around us with our own eyes; knowing we’re ready to face any potential threat. In times of uncertainty, like these, I too would prefer to have my hands on the trigger of a powerful weapon.
Kitos’ eyes are narrow.
“What was the pain flowing through the Bond, Daccia? What did you do to her?”
I held up my hand, to reassure them that I hadn’t done anything to harm Allie.
“I restored her weapons.”
Hadrian grunts. “Are you out of your fucking mind? She’s used them against us once already. She’ll do it again, you know.”
“That’s a risk I accept. If she uses those weapons against us, we’ve got bigger problems than a broken Orb-Drive, or a 600-volt shock. It means our own mate rejected us.”
My battle-brothers stare up at me, and I feel the concern through the Bond as they face that grim reality.
“Allie needs to accept us on her own terms,” I warn them. “Not through coercion or captivity. If she uses those weapons on us? Then we deserve it. We’ve lost her forever.”
Kitos shifts uncomfortably in his seat. He hates that I’m right.
“It’s true, Hadrian,” Kitos turns to his battle-brother. “We need to give her those weapons back – so she feels safe on her own, even from us. Allie can’t think we’re trying to manipulate her into taking our protection. We need her to trust us.”
“Trust us?” Hadrian shakes his head. “Trust us? Are you kidding me? We can’t fucking trust her! We need to keep her locked up until we get somewhere safe. There we can explain her future to her – and make her understand what’s going to happen to her with us.”
Hadrian growls the words out, but I can sense he doesn’t quite believe them. He’s tense, and he has the same fear gnawing in his belly as the fear gnawing in mine:
The fear of losing our Fated Mate.
“Besides, we’ve got more pressing problems,” I try to divert the argument. Looking up, I bark: “AI – how long until we arrive on Salcus?”
“Twenty standard hours until atmosphere,” responds the smooth, emotionless voice of the ship’s computer.
Twenty hours.
Just twenty standard hours to plan an operation that will determine then rest of our lives.
This is supposed to be standard prisoner transfer – taking custody of two suspects from another triad of Aurelian Law Enforcement agents.
Aurelian Law Enforcement agents with a fully functioning Reaver.
With a functional Orb-Drive, we could go anywhere – even far, far away from the reaches of the Aurelian Empire.
And if we fail? What’s theft on top of one of the worst atrocities in the criminal code?
The Empire can only execute us once.
“Kitos,” I demand, “what do you we about the triad we’re meeting?”
“I took the liberty of researching them while you spoke with Allie,” Kitos nods. “They’re new recruits – led by a lad named Dantus. He’s fresh out of his hundred years of service, as are his two battle-brothers. Picking up these smugglers is only their second assignment.” Kitos’ eyes narrow. “He’s a smart young lad, though – and his triad is brave and loyal.”
“AI – bring them up on screen.
”
The AI projects a hologram of the three young agents. I remember when I was just like them – eager, fresh-faced and inexperienced. I remember the thrill of my first arrest.
I remember, too, when life was divided into good and evil. Black and white. I remember when duty to the Aurelian Empire mattered more than anything else.
These young agents are still in the flush of youth. On the one hand, they’ll be unequivocal about the rule of law. If they find out what we’ve done, they’ll give their lives in an attempt to bring us to justice.
On the other hand – if we’re successful, and we steal their Reaver and escape, they won’t be judged too harshly for being hoodwinked by more senior agents. What is that Old-Earth expression?
Good judgement comes from experience – but experience? That comes from bad judgement.
“Okay, here’s the plan.”
Kitos and Hadrian look up at me. Dissent and frustration are suddenly gone from their faces. They’ve heard me say those three words before, and it’s always meant the same thing – order in the face chaos. Hope, in the face of despair.
I outline my scheme:
“We land on Salcus. Check into a hotel and wait for Dantus and his triad to land. Then, we arrange the prisoner transfer.”
I turn to the first of my battle-brothers:
“Kitos – you’ll stay and guard Allie in the hotel.”
Then, the next:
“Hadrian, you’ll come with me.”
I tap my knuckles against the side of the ship. This plan will be a betrayal of everything I’ve ever held dear – every vow of duty to the Empire I’ve ever taken.
But I’ll do it all for her.
“We’re bringing stun-guns only,” I tell my battle-brothers. “With the element of surprise, they won’t be a match for us – but we’re not going to kill them. We are not going to hurt them.”
There are some lines even I won’t cross. Dantus and his triad have done nothing wrong. Nothing except hold the standards of an Empire I’m rapidly losing faith in.
“We’ll deliver swift, clean knockouts from the back,” I tell them. “They won’t know what hit them. We’ll even knock out the smugglers and leave them tied up – so at least Dantus and his triad will still get credit for their arrest when they wake up. In the meantime, though, we take their Reaver. Then we’ll grab Allie, and get the fuck out of there.”