Nexus - Robert Boyczuk (the alpha prince and his bride full story free .txt) 📗

“No.”

“You told us the Speakers are prisoners here. Maybe you were too. Only you escaped.”

Yilda kept his dead, unwavering eyes trained on her. He gripped the stock of his rifle in two hands. “I do not have time for this. We must secure the remaining Speakers. Before they have a chance to do any harm.”

“By destroying their minds?”

“Whatever is necessary.”

“You don’t begin negotiation by killing your hostages!”

“They’re not dead,” Yilda answered cooly. “They’re disabled.”

“Their brains have been fried! They’re no good to us or anyone else!”

“You wanted a cure, and I will provide one. As long as you continue following my orders. Whether these animals live or die should be of no further concern to you.”

“The antidote wasn’t the reason we came here, was it? You wanted this.” Liis swept her hand out to indicate the scattering of bodies. “Revenge.”

“I am not the one with revenge in mind.”

Liis was taken aback. Was Yilda referring to Josua? “What does that mean? Stop talking in riddles.”

“You would do well not to try to understand the motives of a superior intellect. Stick to your childish infatuations.”

She felt her cheeks flush. “Answer my question!”

“I do not have time for this nonsense.” Yilda snapped the butt of his rifle out; it struck Liis dead centre on her cast.

Comets of pain tore across her vision. She reeled, almost losing her balance, staggering to the wall, shoulder and head simultaneously butting its surface. She groped at it with her good arm to keep from falling. Tears burnt in the corners of her eyes.

“I need you to guard the hostages.” Yilda’s words cut through her agony. “But do not try my patience further.” Then he was gone, a short, round figure blurring across her line of vision and out the door.

Within moments the pain receded to a dull throb. Liis touched her cast tenderly, as if she could feel, through its rigid plastic layers, the aching flesh underneath. She ran her fingers along the small depression Yilda’s rifle butt had made. The cast seemed to have absorbed most of the damage. Flexing, she felt sore ligaments and tendons stretch; pain shivered up her arm and all the way into her neck muscles, but that was only to be expected. She counted herself lucky to have gotten off so lightly.

Thirty paces away, Hebuiza pried the incapacitated Speaker from the grip of his comrades and dragged him, by his ankles, to a spot several meters away. A smear of blood oozed from his wounded thigh, marking their path. The snout of the Facilitator’s bolt gun played back and forth over the two remaining Speakers. The woman watched Hebuiza intently with a mixture of anger and fear; the male Speaker seemed to have withdrawn completely, clasping his arms around his chest and rocking back and forth like an autistic child. As Liis watched, the woman shut her eyes and Hebuiza leapt forward, striking her across the cheek with the flat of his palm. The Speaker didn’t cry out, she simply opened her eyes again as if she had expected the slap. She stared unrepentantly at Hebuiza.

The woman is learning, Liis thought. Testing the limits. Running her finger along the cast again, Liis felt the indentation. She looked at the Speaker’s reddened cheek. We’re no different, she thought with dismay._ I’m a means to an end for Yilda. But to what end?_ For the first time Liis realised how little she’d understood. I’ve been sleepwalking through this whole thing. She glanced at the woman, recalled how she’d braced herself for the expected blow. Was that all they could do? Grit their teeth and wait for the hand to fall?

The notion weighed her down like lead. Her legs were rubbery; her entire body sagged. She felt as if she was crumbling under the double burden of exhaustion and uncertainty.

“Bring me the rope in your backpack.”

Hebuiza’s voice jarred Liis from her stupor. She looked up.

The Facilitator watched her with a contemptuous expression. “We’ll tie them up.” He turned back to his captives.

Liis thought about refusing. But what purpose would that serve? None, she thought morosely. The time for choices had long passed. If she wanted to live, she had to play out the hand she’d been dealt. Reluctantly, she shrugged her shoulders from the straps and let her backpack slide off; its plastic buckles clacked against the floor.

Hebuiza jumped like a startled animal. He spun around to face her again, his bolt gun levelled. His eyes were still wild, but his head swayed slightly again, as if the drug that coursed through his veins was wearing off. Dark circles made his sunken eyes look more recessed; fatigue deepened every line of his face. He swore loudly and narrowed his eyes. “Hurry up,” he said, but his voice held a slight tremor.

Liis turned her back on the Facilitator and squatted in front of her pack. Opening the clasps, she loosened the drawstring and began rooting around inside. Just as she felt the coil of rope beneath her fingers, a movement from one of the Speakers caught her attention. They were to her left, where she could see them only in the periphery of her vision. But she was fairly certain the woman watched her. The hair on the back of Liis’ neck crawled; she sensed the Speaker’s gaze on her, following every movement carefully. Whirling around, Liis stared at their captive.

The woman’s head was bowed, her eyes fixed resolutely on the floor.

Liis felt momentarily disoriented. Did I only imagine it? Fatigue blurred her thoughts, made them turn in slow lazy circles. She watched the Speaker, but the woman sat perfectly still. Liis returned her attention to her backpack. The sensation of being watched came back almost immediately. Digging down past the rope, she found the tube of explosives. She lifted out the cylinder, angling it so that its burnished silver cap reflected the scene behind her. The image was distorted, but she was certain the woman’s head was up again, and that the Speaker watched her. Still clutching the tube, Liis swung around. This time the woman held her gaze. Only for a second. Then she dropped her eyes. But her intent seemed clear. It was an appeal for help.

Liis stared at Hebuiza’s intractable figure, still holding his gun rigidly, then back at the woman whose eyes were fixed on her feet. Look, Liis wanted to say to her. I can’t even help myself. The woman’s eyes flickered up, caught at Liis and seemed to impale her with their urgency. Dammit! Liis thought, breaking contact. Leave me alone! She thrust the cylinder into her backpack, outraged at the imposition. What right do you have to pin your hopes on me? Liis got up from her crouch, the coil of rope in her hand, and walked towards Hebuiza. The woman now stared at her openly, her eyes darting between Liis’ face and the rope, her panic growing visibly. Liis tried to ignore her. “Here.” She shoved the rope at the Facilitator.

Hebuiza pushed her hand away, his eyes never wavering from the hostages. “Tie them up.”

Liis stood unmoving, her arm extended, the rope dangling from her fist. She felt the intensity of the Speaker’s gaze burning on her.

“Do it,” Hebuiza said.

“No.” Liis dropped the rope.

Hebuiza turned his large, elongated head; his eyes glimmered angrily in his sallow face. “Pick it up.”

“Why should I?”

“Because,” Hebuiza answered, “if you choose not to, you will have to bear the consequences of Yilda’s displeasure.”

“Yilda’s displeasure?” Liis felt weary beyond belief; but from this weariness sprang a kind of defiant inertia, an unwillingness to move another step in the direction Yilda seemed to be pushing them. “I’m dying,” she said. “What the hell else is he going to do to me?”

“You may live yet,” Hebuiza said cooly. “If Yilda chooses to let you.”

“He’s a Speaker!” Anger coursed in her veins, gave her a kind of second wind. “He doesn’t give a shit whether I live or die.”

Hebuiza’s expression was impassive. “He’s a Facilitator.”

Liis shook her head in disbelief. Could Hebuiza be that thick? No, she decided, not after all we’ve seen. He had to be lying. Covering up for Yilda. Even though the evidence lay all around them: it was written in the face of every twitching body. “Anyone can see Yilda’s one of them,” Liis said. “They’re clones!”

Hebuiza shrugged. “A coincidental resemblance, perhaps.”

“Bullshit!” Liis pointed to the woman who’d been on the couch. “When she was transmitting you could see Yilda was listening in on the conversation. He can hear them. He could probably have transmitted, too, if he wanted. But he didn’t, because he doesn’t want the Pro-Locutors to know he’s here. Because it’s not in his interest to do so yet.” Hebuiza didn’t react; if anything, he seemed bored. “That’s how he figured out most of them were in this room. It was like following voices. And that’s how he’s going to track down the rest.” Liis paused, drew a deep breath. “You knew right from the start.”

“No. Not from the start. I suspected shortly after he arrived. But it was seventeen days before Yilda admitted to me he was a Speaker.” Just like that Hebuiza had dropped the pretence. No explanations, no apologies. But then, he was a Facilitator.

“For God’s sake, why didn’t you tell us?”

“Telling you would have served no purpose. And it might have endangered the mission if Nexus discovered we had a Speaker aboard our vessel. The only prudent course was to limit the knowledge to as few people as possible.” The slightest of smirks creased his face, as if he was proud of his successful deception.

“But he was serving as a Facilitator aboard The Viracosa. Unless I’m mistaken, none of the crew members knew he was a Speaker.”

“I already told you,” Hebuiza said with a dismissive sniff. “He’s a Facilitator. It’s a position he’s held for many years. That he was a Speaker was unimportant. Until he returned to Bh’Haret-and to the plague.”

“But why…” Her thoughts spun maddeningly like a swarm of agitated flies. “How-”

“He is the Brother. The one consumed by the flames.”

The Brother? Why did that sound familiar to Liis. Had Hebuiza talked about Nexus and brothers before? She hadn’t really been interested-her thoughts had been consumed by Josua. “I don’t understand….”

“This is Yilda’s birthright,” Hebuiza said, his words strangely muted for once. “He designed this dome. A millennium ago he ordered it built in secrecy. It was a stepping stone in the expansion of the Nexus empire. But shortly after its completion, his Brother accused him of sedition.”

Liis searched her memory, recalled the story as Hebuiza had outlined it so long ago: Nexus was founded by identical twin brothers, one of whom perished in a fiery death as retribution for an attempted betrayal. Did Hebuiza honestly believe Yilda was that man? It was insane. “You said he died. That he was thrown into a ‘fiery pit’.”

“I said there were apocryphal stories. After his aborted insurrection, Yilda attempted to flee. His ship was damaged. But he and his vessel survived its passage through the corona of the Hub’s larger sun. His brother, fearing instability in the empire, promulgated false stories about his death. So Yilda became a fugitive.”

“You’d believe any kind of crap Yilda fed you,” Liis said in disgust. “How could he have survived all these years? He’d be four thousand years old!”

“And how old are you?” Hebuiza asked quietly.

“What does that have-” Liis stopped in mid-sentence, suddenly understanding Hebuiza’s point. In relative time she was thirty-one. But when