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“What’s in that building?”
Cara could no longer see her parents, but she heard Grinnel clearly. “Camp Umitoid was a notorious prisoner of war encampment in the wilds of Torret. Not only were our prisoners taken there, but prisoners from other wars were taken there to be interrogated.”
“Torretian interrogators were, and still are, well known for their ruthlessness,” Lezod explained. “They will not stop until they have extracted the information they desire.”
“Or until their victims make up something they want to hear,” Grinnel muttered. “Anyway, three high-level officers had been captured over the course of several battles. It was crucial that they be recovered before the interrogators broke them. Leadership decided to shut down Camp Umitoid once and for all during the raid.”
Battered and half-starved soldiers streamed out of the buildings on the right. They were being loaded onto a third ship that had just arrived. Autumn and her mates faced the building on the left. One male stood on either side of Autumn, their arms wrapped around her protectively. The trio stilled and then the blond’s hair began to glow. Soon Autumn’s hair was incandescent as well and a stream of energy burst forth. Their backs were to the camera, so Cara couldn’t see exactly where the shimmering stream emanated, but it was definitely coming from her Earth mother.
Unable to look away, Cara watched the stream fan out and flow around the building. Only the front door was left unblocked by the fluctuation wall of energy.
“Altorian energy manifests as fire,” her mother explained. “But fire can take many shapes. The larger male is her controller. The smaller was her source.”
“And all that energy is flowing through Autumn?” Her hushed tone revealed her awe.
“Keep watching,” Lezod urged.
It took a few moments, but six blond males rushed out into the small clearing in front of the building.
“You left them in there to die?” an angry female voice accused.
Autumn’s males ran into the building while Autumn ordered the six blond males to their knees.
Her back was still to the camera, so Cara couldn’t see exactly what happened next. Autumn’s pose became more aggressive. Her fists clenched and her knees bent, then the males started screaming. They clutched their faces and writhed as if they were in agony. Cara had no idea what was causing their pain.
“What is happening? What is she doing?”
“She insisted that she lost control during the inquiry, but autopsies revealed something very different. The fluid inside their cells boiled, literally melting the flesh off their faces.”
“Turn it off,” Cara cried. “I do not want to see that.”
“Computer, end playback,” Lezod obliged. The display went blank and then the display itself disappeared.
Without prompting, Grinnel continued. “Only the cells on their faces were affected, so the act took a higher level of control than any conduit had ever achieved. Iris likes to pretend that they ran away because they disapproved of war. The truth is more convoluted. Both my mother and sister actively participated in countless battles. My mother was reluctant, even coerced, but my sister liked it way too much.”
Stunned by the images and the imaginings triggered by Grinnel’s words, Cara lapsed into brooding silence. Was that sort of brutality locked inside her nature? Would unleashing her power turn her into a brutal killer?
“Before you feel sorry for those Torretian monsters, there is one last detail you need to know.” Grinnel waited until Cara looked at her to add, “They tortured our soldiers in ways you do not want to think about. All three required extensive regeneration. One did not survive. Torretians are animals and their interrogators are beneath contempt. The only regret I have is that Autumn let them die too quickly.”
Cara knew Grinnel thought the words would soothe her, but they had the opposite effect. If Altorian females were naturally submissive, why the hell were her relatives so bloodthirsty?
* * *
Shalia sat on her cushion in the corner of Emperor Jevara’s private quarters, watching and listening to everything that took place around her. The chamber was massive and filled with lavish furnishings. But each gilded vase or intricately carved table only fueled Shalia’s resentment. Such wealth was an abomination when it was achieved by starving one’s subjects or literally working them to death.
Her gaze landed on the emperor and for one blissful moment, unadulterated hatred burned in her eyes. Then she summoned her expressionless mask and sank deeper into the role she was playing. She was Jevara’s pleasure slave, an esthetically pleasing receptacle into which he pumped his cum. He only acknowledged her existence when his passions stirred and the moment he finished, she ceased to exist. That dynamic gave her access to information no other rebel could hope to attain. The rebellion would succeed. Jevara’s tyranny would end, and Shalia would be proud to have played a part in his downfall.
Left with nothing to do but think during the long hours of inactivity, her mind drifted back to how it all began. The rebellion was guided by a group of informal leaders known as the Assembly. The most dynamic and popular member was Laidon Feran. Most considered him head of the Assembly, but he insisted that he was simply a member with no more authority than all the rest. Technically, it was true. But every time a difficult decision needed to be made, all eyes turned toward Laidon.
The Assembly always met in a private social club tucked away within Soza, an elaborate cyber environment named after the ancient goddess of dreams. VR worlds were incredibly popular on Torret. The majority of the planet was underwater, so space was a luxury. It was easier, and more cost effective, to create entertainment venues with neuro-stimulators and sensory inputs than to tame the deadly power of the sea.
Their icons were intentionally fantastical and no one referred to each other by their real names. This meeting went on for hours and had been particularly contentious. Everyone was frustrated with the lack of progress the rebellion had made lately and Laidon was taking the brunt of his lieutenants’ anger. It didn’t seem to matter what the rebels did, Jevara just shrugged off their attacks. It was demoralizing for the fighters and humiliating for leadership.
When nothing productive had been decided after four hours of arguing, the members agreed to gather information and try again in a few days. Laidon had deactivated his sensory implants with a sigh and blinked open his eyes.
“We have danced with this bastard long enough,” he’d grumbled. “We need one big, decisive move.”
Shalia had rubbed her temples as the immersive signals gradually released. Laidon sat in his favorite sculpted chair. She faced him on the matching sofa. Laidon’s apartment was compact, but nicer than hers so she usually came here for Assembly meetings. After a few intense months as lovers, they had both agreed that they worked better as friends.
