Read Online ElyriasEcstasy by Amber Jayne and Eric Del Carlo - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Amber Jayne and Eric Del Carlo
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this compound, this dreary place, night after
night? Why subject themselves to the rigors, to the probes of the doctors, to
this awful regimentation?
Urna knew why he’d stayed, and he guessed it was the same
for the other, lesser Weapons. There was no life for them outside of this. This
was what they had been built for. The eternal struggle against the Passengers
of the Black Ship—and it would be eternal, for the Ship had never shown any
signs of moving. For whole generations of people it had been a fixture. A
permanent adherence. Elyria’s unremitting blight.
Without the struggle against the Passengers, the two-man
teams were nothing. Nobodies. He and Rune would be little more than oddly
matched males without the fight. Just an unused Weapon and his accessory. His
sightless-sight.
And that was why Rune would never have accompanied him on
this fool’s mission, why Urna couldn’t explain the picture of the two parents
and their son and what it meant to him. Rune didn’t understand. Rune didn’t
question. Rune didn’t doubt. Or at least he’d never given any sign of doing so.
Urna intended to discover some tangible truth about himself. No one, he knew,
would voluntarily tell him anything, even if they held the knowledge. He was a
tool for the Lux and the Lux wanted him just the way he was. Operational,
efficient, lethal.
The truth Urna sought was probably impossible. Or if it was
real, it was likely out of reach.
So what? Fuck it. He’d find it anyway. And he’d do it alone.
All these thoughts zipped through his brain in a heartbeat. A camera drone rose
up above the level of the fence, staring at Urna with its single green eye. He
smiled sweetly at it before he dropped off the far side.
Alone, he reiterated mentally as he landed. Alone
meant, more than anything else, without Rune. Not that Urna wanted Rune’s
company. Or needed his help. And if he had needed that aid he would have been
out of luck. Nothing he could have done would’ve brought Rune along, he knew.
He could have pleaded. He could have wept. It wouldn’t have mattered. Rune was
like the others. Full of the Lux.
Full of poison.
The last thought came unbidden. Whatever it meant, he knew
that Rune was irrevocably broken. The only semblance of a personality he had
came from Urna, surely. Borrowed emotional energy. Reactions to him more than
any original character. And if Urna had ever caught a glimpse of…something…in
Rune’s eyes that resembled genuine affection, it was surely precoital
excitement, nothing more. Urna felt unexpected bitterness tighten his throat.
What a creature for him to waste his love on.
Too bad for him. Too bad for them both.
Behind Urna the alarms started. But he had snatched up his
gun and was already fleeing the scene, running as only a Weapon could.
Chapter Four
Even in the stony nowhere of the dankish Guard holding cell
Virge Temple could hear the alarms going crazy. Her two Interrogators—highly
ranked according to the multiple silver bands encircling their upper left arms,
both men humorless and cold-blooded—tried to ignore the klaxons. They’d been at
Virge for quite some while and she could feel her mental defenses starting to
turn to mush. They used simple repetition, asking the same questions again and
again with the most minor variations in wording. It was maddening.
The alarms were, frankly, a welcome distraction for her. She
sat up straighter in her chair before the tiny metal desk. No confession had
yet been produced for her to sign and she hadn’t yet given away anything that
would incriminate either her or Bongo, the self-professed magic-using rebel
who’d concocted those silly anti-Lux leaflets using paper she’d given him. Even
now, this far into her ordeal, Virge couldn’t entirely regret what she had
done. Fuck the Lux. And fuck Aphael Chav for lording his wealth and power over
everyone and everything.
“You hear that?” she asked. She turned her head as though
she could spot
night? Why subject themselves to the rigors, to the probes of the doctors, to
this awful regimentation?
Urna knew why he’d stayed, and he guessed it was the same
for the other, lesser Weapons. There was no life for them outside of this. This
was what they had been built for. The eternal struggle against the Passengers
of the Black Ship—and it would be eternal, for the Ship had never shown any
signs of moving. For whole generations of people it had been a fixture. A
permanent adherence. Elyria’s unremitting blight.
Without the struggle against the Passengers, the two-man
teams were nothing. Nobodies. He and Rune would be little more than oddly
matched males without the fight. Just an unused Weapon and his accessory. His
sightless-sight.
And that was why Rune would never have accompanied him on
this fool’s mission, why Urna couldn’t explain the picture of the two parents
and their son and what it meant to him. Rune didn’t understand. Rune didn’t
question. Rune didn’t doubt. Or at least he’d never given any sign of doing so.
Urna intended to discover some tangible truth about himself. No one, he knew,
would voluntarily tell him anything, even if they held the knowledge. He was a
tool for the Lux and the Lux wanted him just the way he was. Operational,
efficient, lethal.
The truth Urna sought was probably impossible. Or if it was
real, it was likely out of reach.
So what? Fuck it. He’d find it anyway. And he’d do it alone.
All these thoughts zipped through his brain in a heartbeat. A camera drone rose
up above the level of the fence, staring at Urna with its single green eye. He
smiled sweetly at it before he dropped off the far side.
Alone, he reiterated mentally as he landed. Alone
meant, more than anything else, without Rune. Not that Urna wanted Rune’s
company. Or needed his help. And if he had needed that aid he would have been
out of luck. Nothing he could have done would’ve brought Rune along, he knew.
He could have pleaded. He could have wept. It wouldn’t have mattered. Rune was
like the others. Full of the Lux.
Full of poison.
The last thought came unbidden. Whatever it meant, he knew
that Rune was irrevocably broken. The only semblance of a personality he had
came from Urna, surely. Borrowed emotional energy. Reactions to him more than
any original character. And if Urna had ever caught a glimpse of…something…in
Rune’s eyes that resembled genuine affection, it was surely precoital
excitement, nothing more. Urna felt unexpected bitterness tighten his throat.
What a creature for him to waste his love on.
Too bad for him. Too bad for them both.
Behind Urna the alarms started. But he had snatched up his
gun and was already fleeing the scene, running as only a Weapon could.
Chapter Four
Even in the stony nowhere of the dankish Guard holding cell
Virge Temple could hear the alarms going crazy. Her two Interrogators—highly
ranked according to the multiple silver bands encircling their upper left arms,
both men humorless and cold-blooded—tried to ignore the klaxons. They’d been at
Virge for quite some while and she could feel her mental defenses starting to
turn to mush. They used simple repetition, asking the same questions again and
again with the most minor variations in wording. It was maddening.
The alarms were, frankly, a welcome distraction for her. She
sat up straighter in her chair before the tiny metal desk. No confession had
yet been produced for her to sign and she hadn’t yet given away anything that
would incriminate either her or Bongo, the self-professed magic-using rebel
who’d concocted those silly anti-Lux leaflets using paper she’d given him. Even
now, this far into her ordeal, Virge couldn’t entirely regret what she had
done. Fuck the Lux. And fuck Aphael Chav for lording his wealth and power over
everyone and everything.
“You hear that?” she asked. She turned her head as though
she could spot
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