The Sword of Stars: Chapter 10 (J2 AU NC-17, Fic)

[paleogymnast]

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Chapter 10:

Jared awoke to cacophony and agony. He couldn’t really call it waking though because it took him at least two minutes to even remember his name, designation, and ident number, and then maybe another five minutes to remember, or at least figure out, where he was. When it all came flooding back to him he wished he’d never remembered... but regardless, when he regained consciousness it was to blinding, shooting pain that burned through his nerve endings in some places and overloaded his synapses in others, hyper-stimulating him with noxious triggers to the point of selectively taking away his senses... sight and sound flitted in and out of existence as the agony mutated, changing every so often to keep him from coping, adapting. Smell and taste seemed permanently gone, but Jared couldn’t tell if that was for real, or because there was nothing here but pristine sterility. Even his own body was encased in the... machine, head guarded enough it would be perfectly reasonable for him to not be able to smell his own sweat or fear. Only touch remained unaffected.

Touch was an unrelenting storm of agony, the sensations so powerful, so overwhelming, he feared his heart might give out under the strain. And that’s when he realized he was being tortured. Not by any sort of training program designed to make sure he could withstand it, and not by any sort of torture device the Zyretans were supposed to have. This was different, worse, more sophisticated, and unlike anything a mission briefing had ever prepared him for, and it was being operated by people who didn’t care if he lived or died... probably intended to execute him, at least eventually. There was something disturbingly familiar about it too. He would have tried to fight through the storm of pain to focus on it, but the part of his brain that was functioning was focused entirely on Jensen.

Jared couldn’t remember anything beyond being hooded and hearing a transport pull away... a transport that had presumably carried Jensen, along with Father Peleggi and Benedict… Monster! Something ugly inside him leaped and snarled as he thought of the white-haired, dark-eyed councilmember.

After that, Jared’s memories were blank. He had no recollection of how he got from there to here… wherever here was. Although if he had to hazard a guess he’d assume it was somewhere in St. Pious. Although, maybe not. St. Pious was where they’d take him if they planned to make an example out of him… but was he the example, or would that be Jensen. Even through the pain Jared felt his stomach churn and sour, leaping towards his throat as he thought of Jensen-Jensen who he’d sworn his life to protect, Jensen whose mission and purpose were as yet unfinished, Jensen who could already be dead.

And that was the really scary part. Jared had no clue if he’d been here for minutes or hours or days, weeks, months, years… there was nothing. He couldn’t even tell if he’d been drugged or hit in the head because the pain from the machine, whatever it was, was overriding everything else. He couldn’t move, and he couldn’t feel anything but the pain, so he had no way of knowing if there were contusions on his head or swelling or needle marks or anything that might give it away. For all he knew-and maybe it was a little paranoid, but then again, the Zyretans weren’t supposed to have anything like this and yet here it was-he might not have been physically harmed or drugged at all and the memory loss and disorientation could be from something that physically modified his memories. Maybe seconds before his awareness returned he’d known what day it was or how he got here or what happened to Jensen. He doubted it though, at least as much as he could think. If Scientists hadn’t yet developed that level of memory modification, it was unlikely the Zyretans would have surpassed it, what with their hatred of research, fear of technology, and cobbled-together cabal of reverse engineering priests and slaves.

More than anything he wanted to know what had happened to Jensen.

Jared’s thoughts drifted, as he flitted in and out of awareness. His imagination was supplying all kinds of gory, elaborate, and creative scenarios for what could have happened during his unconsciousness. It didn’t help that the Ministry had spent an extensive amount of agent training driving home the ruthlessness and dangers of the Zyretan government-making them watch holovids of the destruction of Freedom Beach, a secret Zyretan surveillance recording of the execution of Donna and Alan Ackles, still images (both 2D and 3D) of agents and defectors who’d been caught over the years. Adding that to the shocking level of sophistication with the torture device-whatever it was; it still seemed familiar, but full recognition hadn’t yet percolated through the haze of pain blanketing his awareness-and the training he’d had in both contingency planning and adaptive ingenuity in tactics meant he had a parade of increasingly catastrophic results parading before his mind’s eye. Whenever the pain spiked, so did the gruesomeness he saw, the scenarios spiraling out to include Jensen dead and tortured, Chris and the team dead and tortured, the entire Scientist Union overrun and dead and tortured, the colonies… He tried pressing his eyes together to make the images go away, but even trying to forcibly focus on something else-multivariable calculus, the biomechanics of elchani slug reproduction, the correct format for submitting a long-term leave application-didn’t seem to work. About then he finally pushed through the static in his brain to realize he’d probably been drugged too.

One more thing to add to the list of ‘technologies Zyretans weren’t supposed to have but clearly did.’ He couldn’t even think of a Scientist drug that worked this efficiently (of course he was drugged so his memory probably wasn’t at its sharpest.

Shortly after making this realization, well it could have been minutes or hours later, Jared’s sense of time was too skewed to tell, when his mind had taken another dark loop back through a visual litany of all the ways Jensen could have died, or currently be being tortured, another presence filtered I through the pool of misfiring over-reactive synapses in his brain. Someone else was here. He managed to focus his eyes and look around. Brother Benedict.

Rage leapt inside him slamming against his ribs like an untamed beast, snarling and struggling, clawing its way free. Jared still couldn’t move but he managed to narrow his eyes, at least he could look defiant. It was all useless, he realized. Getting all riled up would probably please Benedict, it certainly wouldn’t help Jared to gain a tactical advantage or well… any advantage, but it was difficult-much more so than usual-to pull back, establish self-control. It’s the drugs, the tiny part of his brain still capable of rational thought supplied. They drugged you because they want you upset. The realization threatened to anger him further, but finally he thought of Jensen. Of what would help Jensen, what Jensen would think of him, what he would do… and he used that to center himself. Jared still felt wobbly and out of control, but at least he wasn’t ready to spit in Benedict’s face.

“You,” he grit out between pained gasps. Yeah, it was a little hard to breathe right now, because now that Benedict was in the room, the machine, contraption, whatever it was, was doing something that made it feel like his ribs were on fire, threatening to char his lungs and extinguish all the oxygen in his body if he took more than the shallowest sip of air. “What do you want?” he asked voice still rough but less snarly.

“So many questions you must have right now. Actually, I know you have them. You see this… device… provides great insight into your mind, Jared. But of all the questions, you choose to ask me what I want, and not where you are, or what day it is, or whether or not Jensen’s still alive.” Benedict spoke with a syrupy tone that was far too benign and kindly for the vileness of his character and actions. Especially right now. He was torturing Jared, but sounded as if he was educating a particularly slow child about something… fluffy.

Oh hell, Jared couldn’t stop himself from thinking. I think the Councilmember who happens to be the leader of the Zyretan secret police sounds fluffy. It definitely had to be the drugs. If only he could… overcome them somehow, because he really didn’t want to be having this conversation while his mind was so tangential. He didn’t want to be having the conversation at all, but he really wasn’t in a position to get out of it. Instead he said, “Yeah, you’ve got me. I’m still alive. And you’ve come to see me. So you must want something, and I’m asking what it is.” His voice sounded gruff to his own ears, well what he could hear anyway. Sound had returned in the form of a high-pitched whine. The still-rational part of his mind remembered that was… tinnitus, ringing in the ears. It was the not-sound perceived as sound created when the cells with the tiny hairs in his middle ear died. Even with Scientist med tech it was next to impossible to reverse that type of hearing loss. Not like it would matter if he was going to be dead soon anyway.

“Well seeing as answering your question would be giving you what you want, I am not predisposed to answer you. However,” Benedict sneered, stepping farther into the room.

Jared vision was too sporadic for him to have made out much about his surroundings. He could see darkness tunneling around him with the vague sensation of bright, white lights in front of him. Slowly he began to see Benedict as if he was stepping into frame on a holovid, bit by bit he came into view. He was wearing the same robe-at least Jared thought it was the same robe-he’d had on when they’d been captured in Grace. Benedict didn’t look any older, just more pompous and vile, puffed up like an engorged elchani slug before mating. The thought made Jared’s stomach turn, which wasn’t a good idea considering he had so little control over his body he was pretty sure he’d choke on his own vomit if the sensation got any worse, but yet it was strangely fitting. Benedict seemed bloated with pride and victory, his always-slightly saggy features seeming more melted.

“-I do indeed want something, and alas getting what I want may mean giving you what you want, so perhaps we shall have to call a truce on this matter.” Brother Benedict’s words filtered through the buzz in Jared’s head, the words seeming to hang in his brain swishing and rocking from side to side and making him almost buoyancy sick, as if he was on a boat traversing one of the underground lakes and streams back home.

“I don’t seem to be in much of a position to bargain,” Jared found himself admitting truthfully. The drugs must be messing with my inhibitions, he realized. This shit is definitely stronger than the stuff we tested with. He meant to file it away as one more thing about the Zyretans’ capabilities the Intelligence Ministry had gotten wrong, but the sound of Brother Benedict’s delighted laugh, bordering on a maniacal cackle filtered through, giving him the distinct impression he’d spoken aloud. He could barely feel his mouth or his throat-well aside from the generalized sensation of burning agony-so it was entirely possible he had.

“Haha! Oh, this is truly delightful, Jared,” Brother Benedict said, stepping closer to Jared so it seemed his entire field of vision was filled with Benedict’s impassioned presence. “I had no idea! The Council, the Scienti’s, new miracle has worked better than anticipated.”

His body and face loomed before Jared so it was all he could see. The sensation was terrifying, claustrophobic. Jared was sure if Benedict moved any closer Jared would run out of air for there wouldn’t be any room, and it was already so difficult, so agonizing to breathe. He could feel his heart rush and stutter, hammering like knives against his chest.

“It’s as if the filter between your thoughts and your mouth has been removed. Absolutely everything… well maybe not everything, but I daresay much more than you intend to share becomes words. And well…”

Before him, Benedict’s face gathered into a sneer, and Jared felt his lungs stop responding for a moment, it was as if he’d forgotten how to breathe, or had the wind knocked out of him suddenly and unexpectedly. It only lasted for a moment though, and then Benedict stepped around him, gliding out of his tunneled field of view, and Jared could breathe again.

“Whatever you don’t say, I can certainly gather the nature of from your… ah, what’s the term, biosigns.” Jared couldn’t see Benedict any more, but he could tell the Councilmember was leering. “I will have to mention there’s a small hiccup though. It appears that you are terrified of me… or maybe you hate me with a particularly fierce intensity, I’m not entirely sure which it is, maybe both. But when you look at me in this state-”

Jared felt the sudden pressure of something-touch, his mind supplied-along his right shoulder blade, but it felt more like he was being burned, seared, he almost thought he could smell his flesh charring, but yet, he could not feel heat or cold in that spot, only pressure.

Benedict chuckled again, “-you stop breathing, and that’s not good for getting you to talk, now is it?”

He was moving again, but Jared wasn’t really sure how he was aware. Maybe he could hear footsteps or the air rustling in Benedict’s cloak, Jared wasn’t sure, but he knew Benedict was no longer touching him, and he certainly couldn’t see him.

“Which is it, Jared? Fear or hate?” Benedict asked. There was a pause in the… noise, which suggested Benedict was somewhere behind him, no longer… pacing.

This time, Jared was aware when his lips started to move and his throat started to work. It could have been the drugs wearing off, but that rational part of his brain told him that wasn’t the case… the drugs were continuously fed into his system. No, it was his training kicking in figuring out how to override, or adapt, to the unexpected torture. He heard himself made a strangled noise, anguished… it burned his throat with a raw, rough pain that was distinct and different from the sharp knives he was feeling from whatever this familiar-yet-unfamiliar device was. “I-I… your attitude towards human life disgusts me, and I hate you for what you’ve done to me… to Jensen… to his family… to Zyreta. I know you are a dangerously powerful and destructive person. Your enjoyment of your position makes me sick.”

“Do I sense some… resistance in you, Jared?” Benedict tisked. “Well I despise using such… ungodly machines as this, even if doing so is the only way we can save Zyreta from the destruction and corruption you and your Scientist brethren wish to bring upon us. The same destruction that began three hundred years ago. You have been trying, striving, to complete it ever since, but we will not let you. We know the will of the God and the Goddess, and we will do anything it takes to protect the people and keep them pious and worthy of divine protection even if we must stoop to such, filthy, soiling means.” The words came out hot and angry, exploding and popping from Benedict’s lips in a hail of spittle, tumbling one to the next until he was done, panting from the fury of his delivery.

Jared wasn’t sure if he really sensed it, or only imagined it, but he thought he could feel the sticky-wet heat of Benedict’s breath on the back of his neck.

“I want a great many things Jared.” Benedict spoke. “Many things I should not have. Many things the God and Goddess would reject my soul over, deny me their grace and protection. But what I need, what I am going to have, no matter your desire, is two things. First, I shall ensure the failure of your accursed plan and in doing so save the souls of the Zyretan people. And second, well…”

Jared felt Benedicts fingertips trace across his shoulder blades like razors, igniting fire so strong he couldn’t help but cry out. He could hear the smile in Benedict’s voice after he showed pain.

“Second, I am going to learn what you know, and make sure you understand just how misguided-”

Benedict’s hand closed around Jared’s neck from behind and squeezed, his fingers digging into Jared’s windpipe, crushing his larynx.

“-you are,” Benedict continued, his voice sneering.

Benedict felt much stronger than Jared would have thought possible for a man who so frequently sent others to do his dirty work. If Jared had been able to speak around his collapsing airway and abused voice box, he would have allowed himself to share that observation. As it was he just gasped and choked, feeling his body start to tingle with a new pain courtesy of the oxygen deprivation. He wasn’t sure how Benedict was grabbing him, as much as he could tell, there was something under his chin, around his neck, that was holding his head steady, making it so he couldn’t look down and see the rest of his body. Perhaps Benedict’s hand was clasped below the device, whatever it was. It bothered Jared more now that he still couldn’t figure out why this set up seemed so familiar. But it was paling in comparison to his growing need to breathe. He wasn’t getting any oxygen not even through his flaring nostrils, and he could see white sparks appearing in his already limited field of vision.

“Because you are misguided in thinking Zyreta will so easily allow your kind, the scientists, to corrupt us again.” Benedict’s mouth was next to Jared’s ear. Behind it, lips brushing against his skin.

Jared imagined-perhaps it was more like an olfactory hallucination, because he certainly wasn’t taking in any air-he could smell the stench of Benedict’s breath like blood and rotten meat. He doubted it actually smelled like that-Benedict, like most Zyretans, did eat meat, but he was hardly a wild animal-but it was probably Jared’s subconscious talking, assigning what he thought was an appropriately fitting aroma to the man he hated so much.

“I know you believe the attackers from beyond the stars, the bringers of Death, those which we brought upon us during the Fall, are returning. You believe they will be here soon. Well, if they are coming, I guarantee you it is your fault, you and your scientist brethren, for practicing blasphemy and suffering abominations such as yourself to exist. You, Jared, you and your kind-”

Benedict’s hand squeezed tighter, and Jared felt his eyes rolling back in his head. Whatever technophobic, homophobic, religious rant Benedict wanted to go on, Jared definitely wasn’t going to be conscious (or likely alive) for it at this rate. But even as he felt himself start to sink into blackness, the drugs burned bright in his brain, carrying Benedict’s voice to his senses, the words appearing as if printed out before his mind’s eye.

“-have brought the God and Goddess’s wrath upon yourselves. And if Zyreta falls. If the God and Goddess do not reach out and protect us, it is only because we have failed in our effort to rid the world of you!” Benedict spit, the blob of it hitting Jared’s cheek; damp stickiness registering as everything else continued to slide to blackness.

Just before Jared blacked out and succumbed to the undertow Benedict released him. Jared was shaken physically in whatever contraption he was in, he could vaguely feel his numb-yet-on-fire-and-frozen body wavering in something… some sort of harness? A chair suspended in a harness with only minimal contact with his body aside from the inputs that were triggering his pain responses? Why did that sound so familiar?

Benedict was walking away from him again. Jared couldn’t hear well enough to decipher where. He just knew Benedict was no longer holding him and no longer close to him, but now he couldn’t see anything and his hearing was very strange and echoing, as if he were under water. But he could breathe, and maybe… if he tried… he could speak. “Y-you…” it came out as a harsh rasp, gravely and whisper quiet. Jared was surprised his vocal chords were still working and his throat wasn’t completely swollen shut. “You think using tech like this is gonna help? Isn’t that reason enough for your fucking God and Goddess to kill you? To forsake you?” He broke off into coughs, harsh, hollow, rasping. It was a labored effort just to draw in air.

“It is necessary. We have no other way. The God and Goddess do not like it, but without it far more would perish, and we would lose all ability to stop you scientists from rising up and overthrowing us,” Benedict explained with a cold rationality.

Something struck Jared as odd about that. Strangely, the oxygen deprivation seemed to have helped his cognitive abilities, because despite the added numbness in his extremities, and the suffocating weight around his throat and on his chest, he was thinking, controlling what he said and where his thoughts went, accessing the part of his mind that stayed safe and rational when tortured, seemed easier. Much easier. He wasn’t quite up to sparing the brainpower to think about why that might be, but he was certainly going to try to take advantage of it. Ah, he thought as he realized what was wrong with Benedict’s statement. “So, you mean to tell me, if you succeeded in killing all of us off, you’d give it up. All of it-the g…god lamps and your transports and the hydroponics labs and synthesizers that allow you to make food and clothing for all your people? You’d risk that? Let them… die? You think that would make your God and Goddess happy? You think the people would let you?”

Benedict was silent for a moment.

Jared tried to keep breathing, hating himself a little for using so much precious air, causing so much pain, to spit out all those words.

“The people, my people, the Zyretans… the true children of the God and Goddess, those whom they smile down on and protect, would do whatever they are told, as long as it is the will of the God and Goddess. They would gladly lay down their lives if it meant Zyreta would be safe, pure. They would know, their souls would become stars in the sky, join in the royal court of the God and Goddess, keeping them company for all eternity. There is… no greater honor for a Zyretan-”

“D’you really believe that? Are you willing to bet? ‘Cause you see, this is something you probably don’t understand, but survival? It’s a powerful motivator. When people get faced with their own lives ending, well, some of them will go, no questions asked, if it’s something they believe in… but others…. You’d be surprised what people can do when they have no other choice, when it’s a matter of saving themselves or those they l-love…” Jared couldn’t stop the thoughts of Jensen that spun through his mind, followed by an onslaught of emotion so powerful, Jared could tell his blood pressure had spiked at least forty points and his heart rate had close to doubled. Oh yeah, this was not good. He was going to die just… hanging here if he kept on this way. Benedict wouldn’t need to execute him if that was the plan. Maybe killing him here, torturing Jared to death was the plan… He couldn’t let it take him before he knew what had happened to Jensen though, how long it had been… Benedict said we believe the Insids will soon attack, which means it hasn’t happened yet. Maybe not much time has passed after all.

“I think it is foolish for a man of no faith to think he knows more about the minds and hearts of the faithful,” Benedict said in cold, clipped tones. He was somewhere, maybe over to Jared’s left.

Benedict was silent again, but Jared thought he could make out Benedict’s breathing… there was some other noise, like the giant whooshing of a fan, thumping, moving the air… a turbine of some sort.

“Have you figured out what this is, Jared? I know it’s been on the tip of your tongue since before I entered the room,” Benedict asked, changing his tack. There was a satisfied sneer in his voice.

Jared was opening his mouth to say he wasn’t sure, hoping he could make his drug-addled brain spit out some sort of snide comment, but unsure if he’d be able to, when somewhere on the journey between brain and mouth the answers started to come to him. “I’m underground, under St. Pious, in some sort of torture chamber or a holding cell,” he realized, speaking slowly. “It’s been a day, or less, since you took me.”

“Very good, Jared, your mind is starting to work with the drug quite nicely. I tried talking to you a few hours ago and you couldn’t even speak your name. This is a great improvement.” Benedict paused and Jared could hear him moving around again, a vague almost-sound that both echoed and rustled.

Jared tried to turn his head, to move to see Benedict, but only succeeded in rolling his eyes while glowing points of agony broke out all over his body.

“We’re gathering all sorts of information about how this system works. To think, some of the Councilmembers thought administering such a large dose would be lethal,” Benedict chuckled. He was off to Jared’s right again.

“You mean I’m your test slug,” Jared muttered to himself.

Only he still didn’t have very good volume control, and Benedict overheard him. “What’s a test slug,” he asked, sounding genuinely confused.

Great, Jared thought bitterly when he realized what he’d said. Start to get some control back from the drug and I go and blurt out the name of Scientist test specimens, which he didn’t already know. After a moment’s struggle, he managed to say “N-nothing...” Realizing Benedict might take his denial as the attempt at obfuscation that it was or as a sign Jared was becoming more lucid, he added, “W-what did I say?”

When that earned him a laugh from Benedict, he relaxed fractionally.

“You know the Scienti thought I would kill you with that drug. They said the amount would be lethal, and you would die or it would liquefy your brain. I had faith that you were a formidable opponent and would not fail so easily, and I had two of the Scienti killed for speaking such blasphemously scientific thoughts.” Benedict sounded vindicated, yet amused.

Jared thought he was going to be sick (well sicker). The more he learned about Benedict and how he thought the more desperate the situation seemed. So, the man insisted on using science and technology to aid in his holy war, even though his own beliefs forbade such disciplines, yet when the people he’d ordered to learn or approximate scientific research tried to share that research and help him to use it to its greatest potential, he executed them? I should probably be dead. Hell, I could still end up dead from whatever he gave me Jared mused bitterly, managing to keep his thoughts to himself. He tried not to listen to the rational voice that reminded him he would undoubtedly be executed soon anyway.

If the machinery hooked up to Jared’s body informed Benedict of Jared’s inner turmoil, Benedict certainly didn’t acknowledge it. “Ah, so you know where you are; you are right.” He crossed Jared’s field of view again, nodding. “This is a complex deep underneath St. Pious, near the heart of the city’s hill. No one but the council and our most trusted and closely watched assistants even know this place exists. This is an interrogation chamber, near the hydroponics labs. I know you know those places exist, but you haven’t the faintest clue how to get out of here, so there is no risk in telling you. You see… our eyes are everywhere down here,” suddenly Benedict was by Jared’s left ear again, this time facing him, “if you so much as twitch,” Benedict’s spit landed in Jared’s eye, “all the forces at my command will know of it.”

Something about the sudden proximity to Benedict threatened to overwhelm Jared, and he found himself suddenly sucking in gasping breaths.

Benedict just chuckled again, apparently pleased with the effect he’d had. He stepped back slightly, but was still standing too close.

Jared knew he was there, but his eyes were unable to focus, and the inability to see Benedict, to know his foe’s location, kept his pulse rate up and his breathing rapid.

“You also know when you are. I was hoping we could convince you it had been years and the threat from afar had returned and cleansed Zyreta of your blasphemous kind, but alas, you are more aware than I had hoped.” Benedict didn’t sound particularly disappointed though. “However, that means I can ask you the next question and you should be able to answer. Are you familiar with the device that holds you captive?”

Once again, Jared was prepared to say “no,” compelled to admit it was more advanced than the technology the Scientists thought Zyreta possessed, when the answer hit him harder and more shocking than a slap in the face. He was in a chair hooked up to monitoring equipment and medical equipment. A chair specifically designed to touch his body as lightly and minimally as possible, yet strong enough to restrain him. That’s why it felt familiar. The Scientists had designed this! But not as a torture device or even a restraint. It started out as a medical diagnostic tool-safe to use on people even with extensive or very painful injuries since it didn’t put pressure on the body, allowed 360 degree access and didn’t require the patient to support hirself.

The military and Intelligence Ministry had expended on the design and function, using the chair for physical testing and eventually to train soldiers and agents in torture and interrogation resistance. But the chairs were never used to actually torture people and of course the testing was never like this. Jared skipped the answer and went right to the commentary. “This is a perversion, you sick bastard. We treat people in these chairs. Heal them, teach them to be stronger. Not this. Never this,” he panted, lungs and abused throat protesting his sudden outburst.

“Do you think that training you receive in this is really all that different from what I’m doing now? Do you honestly believe that just because you say you’re doing it to make people stronger that it makes it any less real?” Benedict snarled.

Benedict was in his face now. Looming over Jared. So close he wanted to flinch or pull away but still couldn’t move-and probably wouldn’t want to... now that he knew he was in a version of the diagnostic chair, he realized he probably had needles and wires attached to him everywhere. Sudden movements would only get him into trouble. “It’s entirely different,” Jared grit out through the spike of pain that wracked his body a few seconds after his failed attempt to move. It was like sensation was on a time delay. “The government was so concerned about misuse during simulations they got the Ministry to agree to put in failsafes. The monitors are supposed to act as cutoffs-you can’t give someone an overdose, and if someone has an unexpected reaction, it alerts medical staff immediately. There are… automatic countermeasures. The whole point is making sure people know how to survive with their health intact. Besides the primary purpose is to heal people.” Jared knew he’d probably just shared classified information with the head of the Zyretan secret police, but then again, if the Zyretans had this chair, and it did what it was doing to him… he (and the entire Union) had much bigger problems.

“You can keep telling yourself that, Jared,” Benedict singsonged, “but the potential for corruption was always there.”

“You do realize how ironic that is-you, the Zyretans, always complaining about how we corrupted your people, and yet you’re the ones that took something designed for the betterment and protection of life and perverted it, corrupted it into a torture device!” Jared bit back.

Benedict leaned in closer, so close Jared could see nothing but his face, Jared’s eyes sliding out of focus, the feel of Benedict’s breath hot against his cheek. “The only irony I see is that you think your people designed these machines to help you learn how to withstand torture, and yet I’m using it to torture you.” He pulled away as quickly as he had approached and started pacing again.

Jared was still having trouble following Benedict, but at least he’d figured out Benedict was following a loose sort of pattern, treading on first one side of the room and then crossing behind Jared’s back to the other side and pacing some more. He seemed uncomfortable crossing in front of Jared unless he got in his face, but Jared wasn’t sure if that was because Benedict didn’t want Jared seeing him, or because he was afraid Jared might somehow catch him if he drifted in Jared’s line of sight, because he was uncomfortable seeing Jared’s (undoubtedly drugged out) eyes, or because of something else. Jared didn’t know how much the information would help him, but he filed it away for future reference... well if he had a future. Benedict still hadn’t spoken again, so Jared dared ask another question. These still weren’t really the questions he wanted to ask, but now that he knew a version of the diagnostic chair (and enough expertise to modify it) had fallen into Zyretan hands, he had to know. “So how did you get this chair anyway? Did you build it all yourself?” He tried to make his voice commanding and sarcastic, but the chair was doing something new, and it felt like his ribs were vibrating, bursts of pain exploding with every oscillation, so the words came out more pained, garbled.

Benedict snorted, so maybe Jared had sounded worse than he thought. “You know we would never stoop so low as to delve into science ourselves!”

Could’a fooled me Jared thought bitterly.

“You see, not all of your kind are as trustworthy as you think, which is to be expected of a godless people,” Benedict continued.

“Do you honestly expect me to believe that a Scientist sold us out?” Jared asked with annoyance. Of course it could be that one of the defectors was a double agent-Jared shuddered internally at the thought. He really hoped that wasn’t the case because distrust and suspicion, alienation of those not born into the Union would go a long way towards ensuring Zyretan victory-if the Scientists became fractured and regarded their people with the same distrust as did the Zyretans, then how were they any different? How could they ever prove that the threat was gone and the spy or spies caught? The Scientists thrived because of the mentality that they were all in life together-they had the best chance of deciphering how to prevent or counter the coming Insid attack and they all shared the same risk at the hands of the Zyretans. If that was undermined or suddenly taken away... the society could crumble and quickly. Of course, that wouldn’t matter if the entire planet was occupied or reduced to rubble, but in the interim it could ensure the Scientists would have no hope of success.

Jared was so lost in thought, in the torrent of fears and “what ifs” that chased through his mind, no doubt spurred or aided by the drugs in his system, that he almost missed Benedict’s next words.

“Your Ministry thinks its operatives are much better hidden than they are.”

The words, barely above a whisper, sent a chill up Jared’s spine.

“You know we capture your... agents from time to time,” Benedict continued. “Sometimes we execute them as a reminder to the people of how serious and real the threat of Scientist contamination is. Other times,” Benedict paused in his pacing, “we hold them, interrogate them, work them until they break or die-that is how we learn of new... science to turn against you. Sometimes also we will force your agents to work in our laboratories. But sometimes,” Benedict moved again Standing behind Jared’s back, “Sometimes we send them back. The chill that had been creeping along Jared’s spine, making itself known over the pain, was suddenly all-consuming. “W-what do you mean?” he asked.

Benedict’s hands were on him again, this time tracing along each side of Jared’s face, threatening. “They go back to you, and your Ministry never knows they were gone. Never suspects they’re ours... And then you send them back here, ‘topside,’ that is what you call it, correct? And then the church gets the information our agent gathered.” Benedict gripped Jared’s jaw firmly, forcing Jared to look into his eyes.

Jared tried to flinch and move away, sending another flare of pain throughout his body. It seemed the more cognitive control he gained, the greater the pain he experienced with any degree of movement. He breathed (more like panted) his way through it, showing as much defiance as he could.

Benedict snorted, “Sometimes they bring back names, faces, locations... secrets about where to find your kind in our world. Other times... we get weapons, designs, and... machines like this one. And then our agents do as we command them-as the God and Goddess command-and they build it for us. And every once in a while, they figure out how to make it better, more formidable.”

“H-how many?” Jared asked despite himself.

“Enough,” was Benedict’s clipped reply as he pulled back abruptly, scratching Jared’s face in the process.

“What, you’re not gonna tell me because there’s some chance I could escape this? I’d think you’d wanna gloat,” Jared challenged.

“I am not prone to gloating,” Benedict countered.

“Wasn’t that what you were just doing? All pleased and boastful that you turned our spies? Someone brought you the design for this and corrupted it to your liking, now what?” Jared asked. “Are you going to kill me with it? Is that what you did to Jensen? Well then hurry up and get it over with because I’ve had enough of your gloating!” Jared managed to shout the last word and paid dearly for the movement his outburst caused, every nerve center flashed with white hot pain and continued burning, building and building until Jared was certain it would be his end. The tiny rational part of his mind reminded him he’d just asked Benedict to kill him, so he shouldn’t have wished for it if he didn’t want it. But another part of him was cursing kicking and screaming that he couldn’t die, not until he found out what happened to Jensen... That part of him also recognized he’d just showed his hand to Benedict and that was a very, very bad idea.

As if reading his mind, Benedict’s expression turned to a smug grin. “You see the beauty of this design is even if you resist the compulsion of the serum that floods your body, this device still tells me all sorts of things about you-your temperature, your heart rate, your blood pressure, your rate of respiration, even the amount of oxygen in your blood. It also tells me things about the energy in your mind... I don’t much care to learn how you people think it works, just what I can learn from it. You see it betrays your deepest thoughts. Your innermost desires... Best of all your spies did all the work, not a single Zyretan had to tarnish his soul to achieve this most useful device. And it’s telling me.” Benedict leaned closer. “It’s telling me Jensen’s welfare means more to you than your own life.”

Jared panted and whimpered as Benedict touched his face again. He wanted, wanted so badly to know, and the pain was so bad he thought he’d black out at any moment, so if he wanted to know, he should ask now. Only... only he didn’t want to give Benedict the satisfaction. This is what he wants from me Jared understood at last. He wants to know how to cause me the most pain. What I value. Where my weaknesses are, and there’s nothing I can do to stop him. It was true. Even if Jared perfectly controlled his speech and focused on leveling his heart rate and breathing, between the pain and thoughts of Jared there was no way he could keep it perfectly in check. Either his vitals would change or his reaction to the pain would grow more pronounced, and either would give Benedict enough to figure it out for himself. It would tell too much. Rather than dwelling on what he could not change, couldn’t control, Jared sought to take charge of what he could. “So, I guess I have no secrets from you?” he asked rhetorically. “What do you want now? Or was this it? To immobilize me and torture me and reveal information that will cause me pain, while you learn what makes me tick. ‘Cause I gotta say, that’s kind of a sucky plan.”

“Makes you tick?” asked Benedict with a note of confusion.

“It’s an expression, wouldn’t want to corrupt your delicate sensibilities,” Jared countered.

Benedict gave a half nod and narrowed his eyes. “I want to know if this-taint-you have brought upon Jensen, your deviant and degenerate ways, did you behave that way in your own world, or was that element of disgust something you unleashed only on us?”

Jared was silent for a few moments as he struggled to parse out the meaning of Benedict’s words. As he concentrated, he realized the pain receded, concentrating, focusing on something else helped him to stay more still. Good to know. Perhaps he could get a little more control over the situation after all. “Are you asking me if I was gay at home, or if coming to Zyreta made me gay?” he asked uncertainly.

Benedict stomped his foot, clearly perturbed. Jared didn’t have to wonder long what had set him off. “No, I am asking if you were this indecent in your precious Union, or if you decided specifically to corrupt Jensen to try to force my hand?”

What? Dawning realization sent anger coursing through his veins, burning hotter and brighter than the pain. Benedict thought... “Listen and listen well, because I will only say this once. In the Union being gay isn’t a crime, it isn’t frowned upon, and it certainly isn’t seen as being a degenerate or anything like that. So get that idea out of your head. I’ve always been gay, and so has Jensen-he was just terrified to let you and your degenerate, hateful brethren know. I didn’t do anything to Jensen but allow him to gain back some of the love and happiness for himself.” Jared was panting by the time he finished, so... furious the pain didn’t even register.

Benedict had turned white-whiter than the palest marble of the cavern walls in elchani light. He opened his mouth as if to speak and closed it again. After a few moments of eerie silence so tense Jared was afraid of the noise his breathing was making. When Benedict finally spoke his voice was strangely hollow and colder than Jared had ever heard. “If what you say is true, then you and your people, the Scientists are more depraved than I had even imagined. And you may have tried to corrupt Jensen, and indeed his tainted birth and impure origins have made him incredibly susceptible to such corruption, but I assure you, he will not fall. We will save him and keep him-it is the will of the God and Goddess that he be granted forgiveness as a message to the people. If they turn away from sin and corruption they will be rewarded with forgiveness.”

Part of Jared was screaming. But the rational section at the back of his mind realized what this must mean. “Are... Are you saying Jensen’s still alive?” He hated the hope he felt leaping inside, knowing it would surely show on the monitors. His heart betraying him with the depth of his love.

Benedict snarled. “Yes he’s still alive. He is still too valuable to us. You on the other hand...” He returned to Jared’s side, stroking his face, fingernails scratching this time. “Jensen will think twice about indulging his impure desires again after he watches your execution.”

Jared lurched despite himself. He managed to jerk just out of Benedict’s reach. The pain spiked, but the victory of moving beyond Benedict’s grasp, if only for a moment, overrode the pain signals balancing them out. He wanted to scream out. To funnel his rage at the idea that Jensen would be forced to watch him die, used as an “example,” he nearly blurted out his thoughts. Jensen knows he’s not sinful. He knows being himself isn’t wrong. Nothing you can do to him can ever change that because he knows, he remembers. Luckily he had enough control to realize speaking his mind would give Benedict ammunition he didn’t need. Power Jared couldn’t afford to give him. Instead, he managed, “If Jensen lives then I have no further quarrel with you. I will gladly go to my death.” Somehow, Jared managed to keep his voice level. He felt like he was trembling everywhere, but with the pain and his inability to move or see himself, he couldn’t be sure. Forcing Jensen to watch him die could break Jensen, he knew that. But if they had failed, as it appeared they had, then no one would have much time to have to deal with the fallout. Although Jared didn’t believe in the God or Goddess or an afterlife, it comforted him to know Jensen would view death as an opportunity to be reunited with his parents, and possibly Jared, as stars shining in the sky. Jensen would meet his end with hope and love, and maybe that was all Jared could give him. It would have to be enough. Then again... Jared’s execution-or even his impending execution-could fuel Jensen’s rage, his anger, all the pain and grief that had been building up inside him since his parents had died and his life had been taken from him. If that was the case... well, Jared wasn’t really sure what would happen, but he certainly didn’t envy Benedict or his position. In fact, if the man wasn’t such a manipulative, murderous, fanatic, Jared would almost feel a little bad for him.

“I won’t permit you to ‘say goodbye,’” Benedict sneered.

“Wouldn’t expect any less of you,” Jared retorted with mock humor. Only after he’d spoken did he realize that Benedict had tried to figure out what Jared was thinking, and he’d been wrong.

Maybe the drugs were wearing off, or maybe Jared’s training had finally kicked in and helped him to see away around the most revealing reactions. Either way, he was pleased, and not going to show it.

Sure enough, Benedict gave him a confused look, his eyes traveling up and down Jared’s body as if looking for a clue. “You can try to burry your pain and sorrow with sarcasm, but you cannot fool me.

Oh, but I can, as you just demonstrated. Feigning distress, donning his best ‘crestfallen’ expression, and concentrating on tweaking his heart rate to give Benedict the reaction he would expect, Jared said, “Okay, you’ve got me, but I honestly cannot say I’m particularly surprised. Your God and Goddess are forgiving, but you are not. Is that how it works?”

“The God and Goddess wish to see you punished, and punished you shall be when you are executed in front of the gathered crowds of St. Pious. Through the will of the God and Goddess, we will use your people’s technology to relay and display the scene across all of Zyreta so that no one can ignore the message. Saying goodbye to Jensen would detract from that punishment. I cannot possibly condone, nor would the God and Goddess allow, for anything to ease your suffering.” However rattled Benedict had been he must have recovered, because his tone was back to the cold, clipped, controlled cadence with which Jared was regrettably familiar.

At least I got him talking. He probably didn’t mean to reveal all that. Now I know when I’m going to die and who is going to see it and how. Pressing his luck just a little bit further, Jared asked, “So what? You’re just going to leave me in this thing overnight? Until the execution?”

“Yes. And I believe our conversation here is done. Goodbye, Jared. May you know the full power of the wrath and retribution of the God and Goddess.” Benedict turned on his heel with military precision and strode away to Jared’s right. His steps echoed and then grew fainter and fainter until Jared could hear them no more.

He was alone again. Still in pain, still aching for Jensen, still fearing for the future of both their peoples. But at least he knew when he was going to die. More importantly Jensen would live. He would live and he would know the truth, and Jared would die knowing Jensen had loved him. It wasn’t much. But it was enough to sustain him, to fuel the fire inside. And he drew from it, as he drifted in his naked cocoon of agony. As he found the path to sink through the pain to a place of peace, hope flared inside. Perhaps Jensen could finish what he could not. As long as Jensen breathed, there was still hope they could all be saved.

Continue to Chapter 11

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