“Open the prison!” I ordered Morgan.
Who was I to order one of this worlds Triome leaders? I was just a man of a lower class. I stared into the eyes of Camilla through that shimmering field, she stared back with wet lips and concerned eyes. We’re those her real eyes? I wanted to know what her real eyes were. How had I never asked her that before? She looked so familiar, with that blond hair and adorable nose that curved up just slightly. Her sharp cheekbones angled perfectly to a chin that some might think was too squared for a woman but… but to me, it looked perfect.
My mind went blank as the shimmering field faded. Lips fell on mine with the heaviness of passion. I didn’t fight, I didn’t think, I just was.
“Sayla…”
She was so much like my wife. I was always the quite to her chatty. I was the shy to her outgoing. That was the familiarity that had been killing me for days, Camilla reminded me of her. Was that a good thing? I do not know, I still don’t know but I did know something. I knew that I did not want to fight this moment of euphoric excitement, a fraction of happiness in an existence of darkness and pain. I would not push back the first sign of light.
“She not she!” A crackly voice echoes in the silence.
All eyes turned towards the dirty robed man. So skinny he might have been only walking on bone, his feet slapping the stone floor like a scurrying bird as he bounced off the red field. Camilla’s eyes went wide, I didn’t understand, but that was when everything went bright.
An explosion of whiteness assaulted my everything. My ears rang, and skin burned, nothing came to me for one, two, three seconds. Then there was screaming. It was faint, but it was there, who was it? Another three seconds, and I felt my own throat burning from similar shouts.
“Camilla?” I shouted. “Athea?”
I was blinded still, the brightness causing an awful headache, but I forced myself to ignore it. I felt the ground, I was on the ground. I don’t remember falling. Shaking my head, I slid my hands around trying to find something, anything.
“Imona?” I asked.
“Bas? It was Camilla.” She replied.
“Wha…?”
The light faded, what remained was a blurry facsimile of the room. Ethereal red wisps floated across my vision. I followed them and found then coming from the outstretched fingers of Morgan. Another shake of the head, and my eyes cleared. The pirate queen was hurt. Half her beautiful face looked as if it was dropping in a woodchipper while the other half was clean bone. One eye was missing completely while the other socket was a coil of electroluminescent fibers that snaked out in every direction. When I stepped closer, I saw that all her exposed flesh now had the thousands of wires protruding from it, snaking around like they were underwater.
Her face was gone, and in that moment, I learned of just how resilient Class Fours are. Perhaps it had something to do with her race, but still. With no eyes, no mouth, nothing, I could feel the anger billowing off her like a storm. The red wisps flowed out like music as it wrapped tightly around two suspended figures. One was Camilla, and the other was the strange old man. He was nearly naked underneath his tattered robe, only covered by a simple loin cloth. He cackled like a mad hyena. Camilla was frozen solid, terror mixed with anger. Though the man was similarly frozen, he had a free hand that flicked the wisps playfully.
“Athea?” I turned quickly, where was she?
She stood behind her mother, appearing unharmed and staring in bafflement at our friend.
“What happened?” She asked me.
I shook my head. Morgan cracked her neck, and her teeth clattered trying to speak. Completely incompressible, whatever she cast must have not required legibility for the affects were immediate. Muscle, sinew, and skin folded over itself as her face and presumable the rest of her damage body, regrew. It was much slower than the healing I used to have and the Butchers, but to my twenty third century mind, it was still magnificent. After a minute, her face was back to normal yet all her hair was still missing, along with her eyes. Those strings of optical cables flicked around a scowling mouth before speaking.
“She dropped a Cutter.” Morgan said.
Athea gasped.
“Cutter? What is a Cutter?”
“She not she!” The old man crowed.
“Silence!” Morgan ordered him.
“Silence!” He shouted back in a perfect mimicry of her own voice.
Her reply came as the red wisps wrapped tightly around his mouth. That didn’t stop his maniacal laughter.
“A Cutter is an imperial weapon. Illegal to own for civies.” Athea explained.
“They are a terrible weapon. A grenade of sorts but much worse. It fires hundreds of microscopic blades. They have their own computed targets that must be preprogrammed. It blinds the area, then seeks out their target tearing them to spreads.” Morgan continued the explanation.
That explained why Athea and I were unharmed. Then it hit me.
“That means that she knew she would be captured by you.” I turned back at Camilla. “No…”
She couldn’t be working for the empire. I looked at Athea, and she seemed to be having the same thought. Shaking her head, I could see tears welling up in her lids.
“Camilla?” I asked.
Her eyes whipped towards me.
“Answer him.” Morgan said as her red wisps tightened.
Camilla screamed, and I had to turn away.
“No!” Athea said breathlessly.
“I… Am… Not…” Camilla gasped.
The old man muffled out over and over again. Morgan loss ended his gags to hear his ranting.
“Lie… lie… she lie like a bed! She not in her head!”
“Who is that man?!” I shouted.
“Not now…” Athea answered.
“He lies!” Camilla shouted.
“Lie… lie… how we can lie… until the day we die…”
“Camilla?” I asked quietly. “Are you…”
She shook her head within her bindings.
“Nnnnope!” The old man shouted.
With a flick of her pinky, Camilla’s left leg was severed at the hip. She screamed and screamed and the fingers of red mist bored up into the flesh who oddly enough, wasn’t bleeding.
“No!” I shouted.
“Mother!” Athea said.
I turned towards the queen.
“Release her!” I ordered.
He turned an uncaring gaze on me. I forgot. This woman was a queen in a world of people whose exists is that of terror and thievery, murder and rape. This was not my friend's mother; this was a monster.
“Quiet.” Her voice was soft, lovely and understanding.
I wanted to listen, I wanted to obey.
“MOTHER!”
Athea screamed, another leg fell. More questions were asked, but I had only eyes and ears for Morgan. A hand fell, fingers and an ear. I saw Athea, she was punching her mother in the side, crying. Her metal spikes for hands crumbled under her Class Four toughness. Then Athea looked at me. I know those eyes. They were hurt.
With a blank mind, I felt something in my hand. Watching my friend, I moved in a precise motion. There was more screaming, but I heard none of it as my head exploded in sharp pain. Pulling my armored hands away, blood covered the palms.
“You… BITCH!” I shouted. “I KNOW YOU ARE MY FRIENDS MOM, BUT YOU FUCK WITH MY HEAD ONE MORE TIME AND I WILL BURY YOU AND YOUR FUCKING TRIOME!”
I turned. Morgan was rolling on the ground, grabbing at a missing right arm. Tendrils of her races nanotech snaked out reached for a dead limb. They pulled the severed limb back, trying to reattach, but it wouldn’t heal. Athea looked at me with wide, anger filled eyes. Was that anger towards me?
“BAS LOOK OUT!” She screamed.
Athea reached for me, but it was too late, I was only able to call up my helmet once more. Something hit me, sending me crashing four feet into the stone wall. Something snapped, more pain, then darkness.
