Waiting for the Light - Chapter 7
Chapter 7
When you feel your heart is poundin’
Fear a devil’s at your door
There’s no place to hide
You’re frozen to the floor
What you do then is you force yourself
To wake up and you say
It’s this dream not me
That’s bound to go away
- Marsha Norman, Old Earth
*****
“Not nearly long enough,” Harper said defiantly, jerking his head away from Gaius Felix’s touch.
Felix growled and his eyes narrowed, but surprisingly, he didn’t strike him.
“I see the years have done nothing to curb your tongue or teach you manners.”
“And I see the years have done nothing to improve your charm,” Harper shot back with a glare.
This time Felix did strike him and with enough force to send the smaller man sprawling on the ground. Before he had a chance to recover, Felix grabbed him by the shirt front and pulled him to his knees again, sneering right in his face.
“I did not tolerate your mouth before, slave, and I will not tolerate it now, as you should know. But then, you never were very bright.”
“I was smart enough to escape, wasn’t I, something no one else ever did.”
Harper honestly tried to hold the words back, but they slipped between his clenched teeth, and when Felix pulled him to his knees this time, he came up spitting blood.
“If you are so intelligent, why are you here bowed before me again, boy?”
Harper said nothing. The truth was he’d been asking himself that same question ever since he’d agreed to come to this infernal drift with Dylan.
“I will tell you why,” Felix continued, throwing Harper to the floor hard enough he was left gasping for air. “Because you are mine. No matter how far you run, you cannot escape that fact. You belong to me - body, mind, and soul. You are my slave.”
The Nietzschean punctuated each sentence with a viscous kick, and Harper tried to shield his body but with his hands tied, there was little he could do. He simply closed his eyes and waited for it to be over. The all consuming fear had not left him, but it was being quickly shoved aside by anger. Harper encouraged the rage; anger would serve to keep his mind off…other things.
The blows stopped and Harper lay bruised and winded on the floor, but his eyes flashed dangerously.
“I’m not a slave,” he ground out through pain-gritted teeth. “I’m an engineer.”
Hands snaked down and dragged him upward again, this time depositing him on his feet.
“You are not an engineer. You are a worthless little worm! You are nothing more than an animal! You are not fit to lick the boots of your betters! You are a Kludge, a beast, a pest. You. Are. A. Slave!” Felix’s voice hissed wildly and he shook Harper so hard his brain rattled inside his skull.
“You know what happens to slaves that try to run away and get caught?”
Harper gulped in spite of himself and the terror rushed to the front of his mind again. Of course he knew what happened! How many times had he seen it happen before? How many unmarked graves bore witness to that fact on Earth? And how many times had he sworn to himself he would never suffer that fate?
Felix saw the fear that leapt onto Harper’s face and smiled. “Well, answer me, slave!” he demanded, shaking the boy again. “What is to be your fate, now that I have caught you again?”
The bravado of a moment ago lost, Harper answered in barely a whisper.
“Death. By crucifixion.”
“Ah yes, quite correct,” Felix purred, once again caressing Harper’s cheek. “Maybe you are intelligent after all.” He stared at Harper for a moment longer, and Harper tried to muster enough false attitude to glare back, but he was having a hard time. Then suddenly, Felix seemed to lose interest and tossed Harper back on the ground in a heap. Striding to the wall, he pushed a com button and summoned the guards.
Harper took the opportunity to try and collect his scattered wits and emotions, as well as to drag himself haltingly back to his feet. Terrified he might be, but he had enough pride to meet death upright. It took his legs a while to decide to support his weight but, once the room stopped spinning, he noticed a new doorway had been opened. Felix followed his gaze.
“Don’t worry, you will not be spared your fate, but I hardly plan to pin you up tonight,” he said with an evil laugh. “First we are going to get reacquainted and you are going to tell me exactly why you and the good captain were on my drift.” The Commander sauntered through the new doorway and two guards Harper hadn’t noticed before took hold of his arms and half-dragged, half-carried him through as well.
Harper’s breath caught in his throat as he gazed around the new room. Shackles hung from the ceiling and walls, and an ominous metal table complete with silver restraints occupied one corner. Chairs with straps, wicked looking machines, and trays full of all manner of torture devises were scattered around, as casually placed as patio furniture. With the sight of the room and its equipment, all the carefully constructed locks in Harper’s brain sprung open and a whole plethora of nauseating memories assaulted him from all sides with the force of a hurricane.
Felix had been studying Harper’s face intently, and he nodded with contentment at what he saw. “Do you like it?” he smiled, “I’m sure you recognize the main themes; I had it specially built. It makes this ship feel more like a little home away from home.”
In the face of the indescribable pain and misery he knew was coming, Harper fell back on the only thing he had ever been able to rely on, his own sardonic wit.
“Personally, I think you need to find a new designer. The machines shout ‘Frankenstein’ just a little too much, although the chains are a nice touch.”
Gaius Felix threw back his head and laughed - a cold sound the echoed off the steel walls and sent shivers up Harper’s spine. The Commander then moved to a plush armchair and settled in, still chuckling.
“I’m glad you approve of the chains since you’re going to be spending a lot of time in them while you spill your pathetic Kludge guts to me. Although, I do so hope you won’t crack too soon; I find myself looking forward to the entertainment.”
Harper narrowed his eyes. “Do your worst, I ain’t telling you nothin’. I’m just gonna die in the end anyway, the least I can do is make it count.”
“We shall see,” Felix said brightly. He then spoke to the guards. “Remove his disgusting excuse for a shirt and chain him in the center of the room.”
Expecting his shirt to be sliced off in pieces, Harper was mildly surprised when his hands were released and the garment simply pulled roughly off over his head and set aside. As he was manhandled into the middle of the room and his arms pulled up and fasted into the waiting shackles, he observed Felix ringing a small bell. A female slave appeared instantly, waiting respectfully a few steps away with her head bowed.
“Bring me some iced-tea. I find the excitement has left me rather thirsty.”
The slave bowed and quickly scurried off. Within minutes she was back with a glass and a pitcher of the golden liquid on a tray. Felix took a long drink and heaved an appreciative sigh before moving thoughtfully toward the nearest cache of deadly tools. He casually picked up two items and brought them to Harper.
“I marked you once as mine but it doesn’t seem to have made an impression.” Felix thoughtfully caressed the metal rod, and Harper shuddered at what graced its end.
“Heat this up,” Felix ordered one of the waiting guards, thrusting the rod at him. “In the meantime,” he smiled at Harper, “we can proceed in the good old-fashioned way.” He cracked the silver-tipped whip for effect before circling Harper to stand behind him. “What do you say after twenty lashes I stop for another drink and see if you are ready to chat?”
This room was a place of terror and the stuff of nightmares, but unfortunately for Harper, it was all too familiar. He clenched his teeth in preparation and closed his eyes, just as he had way too many times in the past. As the first tearing stroke melted into five, and then six, Harper shut it all out and let his mind flee to a place it hadn’t been for a long time.