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He couldn’t, unless his fathers were there to guide him. Even under their care, tension remained. His chest always felt tight, constricted because his life consisted of jumping at shadows and putting off sleep to avoid the nightmares.
Dr. Degorsk would send him home soon, though Ilid would return daily for therapy. It was hoped the familiarity of his parents’ care and distance from the fleet would help him regain some semblance of normalcy. Ilid knew it wouldn’t. Instead, he’d upset his mother and Imdiko father. His tears would shame his Dramok father, and most especially his Nobek father.
They didn’t deserve to be put through the hell of his broken presence. There was no light visible at the end of the tunnel, only dark…Darks…in view. Over the last few days, Ilid had come to the realization he couldn’t handle putting them or himself through his ceaseless torment.
He glanced at the small black eye in the corner near the ceiling. No orderlies had shown up to check on him. They were used to his nightmares, used to him sitting and crying afterward, used to his refusals to talk to someone or take the sedatives that would send him back into the hell of what had happened. They’d finally told him if he did want sleep assistance or the night therapist to talk to, to push the red button by his bed and tell the desk nurse. Otherwise, they’d let him settle on his own, as he preferred.
They probably weren’t watching the monitor by now. It was just Dramok Ilid, having his nightly breakdown. No big deal. They had no reason to be concerned over a man who couldn’t cut ties with his bad dreams.
He felt under his mat, turning so his thighs hid his search. When Ilid had initially arrived at the psychiatric facility, a Nobek patient who’d sat next to him in the dining room had dropped and broken a cup. The pair had been shooed off by the orderlies despite their willingness to clean the mess up ahead of the maintenance staff. Ilid had been sent to another table, but not before he’d surreptitiously snagged a shard of heavy ceramic shaped somewhat like an arrowhead. He’d kept it hidden from the orderlies until he’d returned to his room.
He'd secreted it beneath the mat. He’d had no plan to use it. The shard was simply an item of security. Its potential as a weapon gave him a small sense of comfort despite it being useless against the Darks, should they show up to attack him. Any weapon, even worthless, was better than nothing.
More importantly, it was insurance should the nightmares grow unbearable. When Ilid had hidden it, he’d had no real intention of using it in such a manner. It calmed him to know he had an option, a way out if therapy failed to heal his broken mind. Often after a nightmare, he slid it from beneath the mat as he did now and gazed at its shining blackness, at the jagged edges of where it had shattered. He reminded himself,I can quit if it becomes too much. The reminder was usually enough to offer him the peace that allowed him to continue, to keep trying to find a path out of the terror blanketing him.
Tonight, his parents weighed on his mind. They didn’t deserve the wreck their son had become, and they didn’t deserve to clean up the mess if he fragmented as the cup had. Ilid imagined getting to the point where the tears never stopped, where bright light failed to dispel the image of tentacled shadows creeping toward him, when there was no choice but to flee into the peace of oblivion. He thought of his mother or Imdiko father coming upon his body.
It was better to finish it now, rather than dragging them through weeks, maybe months, of torment. He shuddered to imagine it ending in their home, where they’d be confronted by the memories every day thereafter. He’d be doing them a kindness if he got it over with before Dr. Degorsk released him.
Tonight was as good a time as any. Why draw it out? So he could bring more grief upon them?
He caught himself glancing around, checking the corners for Darks, his heart picking up speed. He couldn’t live like this. Neither could his parents.
Ilid brought the sharp point of the cup shard to his wrist. As he began cutting and the blood started to flow, relief swept through him. It would soon be over. Finally, he could rest.
Chapter Ten
Tranis sat in his office and stared at his computer vid. It displayed the order he’d relayed to the spy division to send a surveillance team to inspect and report on the members of the Galactic Council governing body.
Rejected, the screen blared at him. His order had been countermanded, the refusal signed by Hobato. The space for the reason for doing so contained one curt line:no acceptable basis for imperative at this time.
Another holographic screen shimmered in the air next to the first. On it was the revocation of the order from the medical and research arm of the spy division to test fleet operatives who had brain signal patterns similar to Ensign Ilid’s. Again, signed by Hobato for the same terse reason.
Tranis fought the urge to march to Hobato’s office, to tell him he knew exactly where the retraction of orders was coming from, to inform the invisible entity he was on to it. He had no hope of proving it. If Ilid was right, the rider had access to Hobato’s memories and knowledge. It would realize Tranis couldn’t move against his commanding officer without proof. It would rid itself of him in an instant, probably by having him unceremoniously tossed in the brig.
Tranis might have confronted whatever controlled Hobato anyhow, had Lidon not commed him minutes prior to tell him Clan Piras had arrived. He bristled to lose whatever time it would take for Lokmi and Hope to find a means to trap the Dark, but at least they could get started. As could Piras and Lidon on setting up Hobato’s communiques to be monitored and misdirected. Hopefully, if the entities had reached the Galactic Council, they wouldn’t do much damage before the real Hobato could be restored and spies sent to verify whether the GC had been compromised.
As for the reversal of testing those who could possibly spot the Darks as Ilid did…Tranis smirked. Cassidy had been granted clearance to work with fleet personnel, including the spy division, to test “suspected microcellular alterations to biological functions” on those who used phase technology. Her supposed research had been lumped in a massive group of larger studies, where its smaller budget would garner little attention.
She’d investigate microcellular alterations, all right, as well as brain function and wave patterns to find those matching Ensign Ilid’s. Hobato, who didn’t supervise contracted research of biological nature, wouldn’t know it was happening.
* * * *
After leaving work early and flying home, Tranis discovered his secret guests waiting for him in his greeting room, accompanied by Lidon, Degorsk, and Cassidy. He wasted no time once he’d welcomed Clan Piras to tell them the latest developments.
“It’s alarming,” Piras agreed from his seat on a green floor mat. The two clans had settled in a cozy corner, near the bar. He drew lines on the condensation on his glass of kloq, of which he’d had a single sip. “In the past, we’ve spied on the Galactic Council for much less reason under the rear admiral’s direction. I see no valid cause to refuse to test our operatives and fleet crews for the ability to spot the Darks. Speaking of which, have you figured out a means to bring Hobato and Ensign Ilid together for the purpose of confirming he’s under alien control?”
Degorsk sat by Tranis on another floor mat. His eyes were shadowed and features drawn after being woken in the middle of the night to rush to the fleet’s hospital. He shook his head adamantly. “Dramok Ilid attempted suicide last night. He was in no condition to potentially view evidence of Dark presence on Kalquor before. He’s absolutely in no shape for it now.”
Piras stared in shock. “Ancestors. Did he seem suicidal?”
“I didn’t think so, but I chose to err on the side of caution because of the extreme trauma he went through. A security guard was assigned to watch the vid monitoring his room, and only Ilid’s monitor, every night.”
“Cautious measures, indeed.”
“The guard said last night Ilid behaved typically…he’d had a nightmare, after which he huddled on the floor next to his sleeping mat and looked around his room to make sure no Darks were sneaking up on him. Despite the guard’s careful attention, it wasn’t until he saw blood pooling on the floor that he knew there was trouble. They barely got to Ilid in time to save him.” Degorsk picked up his bottle of bohut and drained half of it in a few gulps.
Lidon, seated on Degorsk’s opposite side from Tranis, gazed at his Imdiko in sympathy. “I checked the records to be sure the ensign was properly monitored. He was. I watched the footage of his attempt and saw what his guards reported nearly every night, up to the moment he started bleeding out. His determination nearly outmatched the protocols in place to protect him from himself.”
