I slump against a breathing wall. “Queran Embers knew the location of every hub in the Nexus. The entire future of humanity.”
Digory grips my shoulder. “And you possess this information, too. Our collective believes it has found a way to stimulate your cerebral cortex and retrieve those memories without a surgical procedure. But it cannot be done remotely. That is why we are headed to Haven. The equipment we need is stored there. We will have to access it right under Straton’s nose, perform the procedure, and escape.”
I sigh. “Is that all? Piece of cake.”
He stares into my eyes. “We are not going to lie to you as others have. It is a risky procedure. You may still die. And if we are caught, you will not survive Straton’s techniques. But we will not force you to do anything against your will. The choice is yours.”
Those words should be the epitaph on my grave. Why do people constantly insist on maintaining the illusion of free will when there really is no choice?
If I choose not to go through with this brain procedure, the Torch Brigade could be wiped out in the crossfire, while the Thorn Regime and Sanctum blast each other into oblivion. No one wins.
If I do go through with it, however, I risk the dangerous knowledge contained in the memories of Queran Embers getting into the wrong hands.
But there’s also the possibility of regaining contact with the entire Nexus of survivors and establishing a new, and hopefully better, society.
I feel like I’m facing the final and most important Trial ever. One in which, not just the life of a loved one is at stake, but my own identity and existence, as well as that of the entire human race.
“What about the Fleshers stationed on Haven?” I ask Digory. “I’m assuming since you’re all a cozy little Hive that they’re in on this plan and have our backs?”
“Negative. Until the Five can access the data that will allow us the autonomy to break from Straton’s control, we cannot risk sharing this information with the rest of the collective. They would not be able to override their programming and would be forced to impede our progress.”
“Keeping secrets from your own kind makes you no better than the rest of us.” I bury my face in my hands. “I need a little time to think.”
“Understandable. Sleep on it. But we have to check in with Haven in the morning. We will need your answer no later than that.”
****
I get no sleep at all. Cole, on the other hand, rests peacefully. When he wakes up, he narrows his eyes at me. “You’re still here? I’d have thought you’d be gone by now.”
“Did you sleep well? Any bad dreams?”
He rolls his eyes. “I already told you. I don’t dream. The nightmares always happen when I open my eyes.” He turns away.
I know how you feel, little brother.
I stare at him for a very long time.
Do I really want my brother growing up in a world where dreamless sleep is a desperate refuge from the horrors of the waking world?
When I finally exit the room, Digory’s standing outside the door like a sentinel. For all I know, he’s been waiting here all night.
Before he can ask, I head him off. “Let’s do it.”
SEVENTEEN
Entering Haven Air Space.
The eerie, biomechanical voice oozes from every pore of the compartment. Since the Fleshers have no need for spoken language to communicate, the message has probably been run through some kind of thought-to-voice modulator for my benefit.
“What’s that?” Cole points out the throbbing port hole. A gigantic dark mass lurks inside the thick bank of clouds we’ve just passed through.
I press my forehead against the living window, barely able to make sense of what I’m staring at.
Before us looms the most immense airborne carrier I’ve ever seen. Haven isn’t a stationary land base like we all assumed. It’s an enormous, mobile city flying through the skies.
I shake my head. “No wonder no one’s ever been able to track Haven. Its location is constantly changing.”
Steel gray towers and bunkers jut from the surface. An array of solar panels and radio towers are interspersed between numerous hangars and landing platforms. Squads of smaller craft zip by, some tethered to the behemoth by refueling cables.
“Those towers must house some sort of jamming tech which cloaks the facility from radar,” I mutter.
My stomach sinks. The Flesher craft descends toward one of Haven’s hangar bays. I’m not antsy about strolling into this vile nest. Facing Straton and his army of brainwashed, pious hypocrites is something I can deal with. It’s tangible.
No. It’s the fact that I don’t know who or what I’ll be after this memory retrieval business is over. What if Lucian Spark ceases to exist and becomes just a vessel to house the long-dead ghost of Queran Embers, like Digory and his integration to the Hive? Everything I’ve experienced, everything that makes me who I am, just wiped clean like a brand new hard drive, overridden with entirely different programming. It’ll be like dying. Despite what Tristin believed about some mystical deity before she passed, I can’t wrap my head around the fact that I’ll just cease to exist.
An even more disturbing thought hits me. Maybe there’ll be just enough of me left to be conscious of what’s going on when the dominant personality of Queran Embers takes over, continuing his legacy of heinous cruelty. I’ll be a silent witness to all the horror, but impotent, trapped in a vegetative state, worse than being buried alive.
The craft’s nose shifts downward, and my fingers dig into the porous material of the clammy armrests.
“You’re scared, aren’t you?” Cole’s glaring at me from across the aisle.
I shake my head. “I don’t mind flying. Just hate landings.” I lean in close. “Now remember what we talked about, Cole. When we get there—”
“Keep my mouth shut and just pretend I’m part of the latest shipment to Haven. Got it.”
“Not a word. Our Fallen Five friends are tapped into the system and are fudging the new transfer manifest to account for our addition. Hopefully, no one will spot the discrepancy too quickly.”
Cole stares past me, out one of the ever-shifting portholes. “I’m not doing anything for you. I just don’t want to end up like those others. And you’re my only chance of getting out of here and back to…” He bows his head and swipes a forearm across his face.
“Back to Cassius?” I lean in and touch his shoulder, but he rips it away. “Cole, you need to understand—”
“Don’t you touch me. Don’t even talk to me!” He shifts his body and continues to stare out the window. I can see the tears streaming down his cheeks in the reflective material.
The wall to the compartment wriggles open and Digory enters. Only he looks like a full-fledged Flesher, complete with eye-eliminating optical visor, buzzing and whirring tools jutting from his abdomen, and servomotors attached to his feet, allowing him to glide in and pause in front of me.
For a moment I’m horrified—until he rips off the visor and reveals he still has eyes.
“Pretty convincing disguise, do you not agree?” He flexes his muscles and tinkers with the ridges of his stomach, and the skins gives way, revealing the biological prosthetic emulating the abdominal cavity of the standard variety Fleshers. “The Prototypes put this gear together from the vessels of our fallen brethren.” He wraps the belt around his waist again, the live skin stretching to integrate with his own so that it is indiscernible. Then he pops the visor back on. “It should be able to mask this vessel’s identity. For a short while at least. One day, what remains of Digory Tycho will be completely absorbed by the Hive and will not require any false gear.”
That thought does nothing to ease the wave of anxiety coming over me.
Cole’s eyes narrow at him. “You’re wearing dead people parts.” He shoots me an equally disgusted look. “And you died hundreds of years ago. You two belong together.”
The overhead lights hum and change color, from purple,
to green, to red, the tones changing like the notes of a musical instrument.
I untether myself and spring to my feet. “What does that mean?”
“It’s a proximity alert. We’ve timed our approach to coincide exactly with the other transport arriving at Haven. Our craft is communicating with the base and transmitting authentication codes. As soon as we have landed, we will exit the ship, and will herd you and your brother into one of the processing queues. Then we will slip away and follow the progenitors to one of the labs and begin the procedure.”
“Sounds easy enough. I suppose I’d better change.”
“I’ve taken care of that.” His faux abdomen springs open and a pair of metal pincers clutching what looks like bunched up rags, springs forth and drops them at my feet.
I scoop them up, examining the threadbare material which is barely going to conceal my dignity. There’s also a wig that looks more like a rat’s nest. “Looks like fashion at Haven has seriously taken a nosedive.” I toss Cole the smaller bunch, which he catches in one hand. “Time to get ready, Buddy.”
Aside from his usual dirty look, he says nothing and begins to change.
“I don’t suppose you have any shoes to go with these?” I ask.
Digory shakes his head. “Sorry.”
Turning away, I start to peel out of my own clothes and pause when I become aware of Digory’s gaze.
“Don’t worry,” he says before I can protest. “We are not going to peek.” He swerves out of visor range.
A faint smile traces my lips. I finish undressing and slip into what amounts to a tattered loincloth. Sheesh. Even Infiernos had a better selection. These poor people were supposed to be living stress-free lives of luxury after the sacrifices all their loved ones made for them during the Trials. Instead, they were rewarded with the abominations of Straton. Another deadly bi-product of Cass’s machinations.
The craft’s engines gurgle and hiss like a massive beast’s intestinal tract. The vessel settles on the landing platform and grinds to a complete stop.
“It’s show time,” I mutter.
The wall splits open and a gangplank unfurls like a slimy tongue.
“Try not to speak.” Digory leads the way.
Cole and I creep behind him. The three of us slink into the shadows created by the aircraft’s landing struts, while the rest of our crew rolls, glides, and marches off the ship and into the hangar to meld into the sea of Fleshers.
To our right, another ship has just docked, and its cargo doors slide open. Another crew of Fleshers busies itself with herding hundreds of prisoners off the ship, using silver tools jutting from their midsections like cattle prods. From the looks of the unfortunate captives, it’s obvious that Digory wasn’t exaggerating their condition.
Most of them look pale and haggard, their hair overgrown mottled clumps, skin scratched and bruised. The rags they’re outfitted in look pretty much like the ones Cole and I are wearing, maybe a little dirtier. But there’s one thing that really sets them apart from us. Their facial expressions are vacant. Must be from shock, considering all they’ve been through. It’s probably best that they’ve mentally checked out, especially considering what’s in store for them now.
As the Fleshers corral the new arrivals into formations, Digory turns to us. “Now is our chance.” He flexes and a similar looking prod springs from his waist compartment. “Go.”
Grabbing Cole’s reluctant hand, I pull him after me from the safety of our hiding place. He rips his hand loose and steps behind me. Digory jabs at us from behind, moving us toward the nearest clump of catatonic humanity.
In seconds, we’re assimilated into the pathetic flock, moving toward the bay doors leading into the complex. Digory’s never more than a few feet away. We trade several glances along the way, at least I think we do, since it’s impossible to be sure with his optical visor obscuring his eyes.
It’s a real struggle not to keep turning and checking on Cole every few seconds. The instinct is overwhelming. But I fight it, knowing that if I attract any unwanted attention it’ll be the end of the ride for the both of us.
Just up ahead, I glimpse the open doors leading into the heart of Haven. Only a few more feet to go and then we’ll be able to make a break for one of the labs—
Two very large Fleshers emerge and block the door.
This is not good.
Digory strides up to them and pauses. Beads of cold sweat trickle down my forehead. I risk a glance at Cole. He’s biting his lower lip.
Without speech, it’s impossible to tell what’s going on. At one point, one of the Fleshers projects a holo of what looks like some type of manifest. Probably the list of human cargo.
Digory gives a slight nod. Two of the entries near the bottom of the list begin to glow red. Those must be the entries for Cole and me, added during the system hack by the Five. I guess we’re going to find out the hard way if it worked or not.
Cole surprises me by tugging my hand. He shoots me a worried look. He nudges his chin toward the opposite end of the bay, and it’s obvious he wants to bolt.
It’s too much of a risk. They’d swarm all over us in seconds. I clench my jaw and reply with a barely perceptible shake of the head.
The wait is excruciating. Then the holo bleeps—
The entries flash from red to green.
I let go of the breath I’ve been clenching with a soft hiss.
The prisoners shamble forward again. Only five more people ahead of us until we reach the door.
“Halt right there!” The familiar voice chills my blood, and invisible fingers clutch my throat.
Dr. Stefan Straton marches toward our group. I immediately bow my head, grateful for the ratty wig obscuring my face. If Straton decides to take a closer look, though, it’s not going to pass muster. Maybe he’ll just relay an order and leave.
Straton approaches one of the Flesher escorts. “Make sure the unit in Hangar D has been fitted with chutes for deposit in the valley.”
The Flesher nods and speeds off on its wheeled base to carry out Straton’s commands.
The doctor turns to those of us remaining. “Before you begin your new contribution to our society,” Straton croaks, “I have randomly selected this group to test our new viability detector. It’s a quick and painless scan that allows us to make an even quicker determination as to what your designation to the Haven community will be.”
Great. Just a fancy way of saying whether or not we’ll be selected as candidates for Flesher assimilation or get relegated to food source for Sanctum’s crazed religious zealots.
“Let us begin.” Straton points toward the two Fleshers, who begin their scan at the front of the line.
He tracks their progress via a pad in his hand. “Subject: Bazz K. Male.”
A handsome, if disheveled youth, is scanned. His eyes are wide and flitting about like cornered prey.
Straton checks a readout and grins. “Excellent. You’ll make a fine addition to our Bio-mechanical ranks. Next.”
The panicked youth is dragged through the doors. The next person in line, a frightened girl about my age, is scanned.
“Subject: Longchamps, M. Female. Begin.” Straton commands.
The girl is scanned while Straton reviews the results. “Congratulations, my dear. You’ll play a very important role in our nutritional and devotional processing.”
Longchamps shrieks. She’s hauled away. Then the next two are scanned. Until there’s only one person ahead of me.
Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I make visual contact with Digory. His nod’s very clear.
I brace myself. The person directly ahead of me is finished, an unfortunate girl named White.
“Next,” Straton says.
I take a deep breath.
Last stand time.
My muscles tense.
“Don’t I know you from somewhere?” Straton approaches. “Show me your face.” His long shadow falls over me.
The last thing I’m goin
g to do before I’m killed is choke the life out of him.
Cole bursts from my side and lunges at Straton. “You’re not going to eat me!” He pounces and sinks his teeth into the doctor’s wrist.
I’m coiled to spring, but Digory’s there in a flash, pulling Cole away from the good doctor.
Straton clutches his bloody hand to his chest “You’ll pay for that, you little bastard.” He grabs the Flesher nearest him. “It seems our young friend here has volunteered to serve as an offering in our worship services. He’ll become one with the Begetter and provide sustenance for us all. Take him.”
Cole shoots me a wink. Then he’s dragged away into the darkness.
My brother’s ploy worked. Too well. Straton’s ignoring me now. His expression is a mixture of pain and rage. “I’ll be in medical receiving inoculation against whatever infections that rabid little cur carries in his blood. In the meantime, get these others out of here.” He storms off without another glance at me.
Digory pushes me through the doors and yanks me into a dark alcove.
I rip my arm free. “What the hell are you doing? We’ve got to go after my brother.”
He shakes his head. “Cole bought us a window with his diversion. We may never get another shot at this. If you go after him now, you will both be destroyed.”
I stare after Cole. My emotions are in a tailspin. Everything Digory’s saying makes sense, but it goes against every instinct in my gut.
Digory’s hand engulfs mine. “We promise you that once the procedure’s underway, this vessel will retrieve your brother before he is harmed. We are running out of time, Lucian. You have to trust in our mission.”
My entire body’s trembling with fury and grief. I take a few deep breaths. “Let’s get to the lab. And if anything happens to Cole, I’m holding you personally responsible. Not your Hive. You.”