The Stolen Star

10

Captivity has a smell.

It's bitter and cold, metallic. It's the smell of blood and urine, and my own sweat.

The room is frigid. I'm naked. I've been naked for days. Ikyrus, once about as close to a savior as I had, has gone. Don't know where. Saia's taken over the procedures, and all I am is a specimen under a microscope.

She has no compunctions about paralyzing me with drugs, shoving a tube down my throat so a machine can breathe for me, and flaying my skin away from bone, or sticking needles in my eyeballs, or peeling layer after layer away from the interface points on my body.

I'm paralyzed, but I feel everything. Every needle. Every cut. Every bone broken. It drives me mad, but Monster's voice in my head brings me back to sanity.

He tells me of Nexari's history, of the horrible things done in the name of war by the ruthless Ghiatam invaders. His voice is deep and gruff, and grounds me when the pain is enough to shatter me.

As the hours pass, I find bits of things in my mind. Numbers, letters, symbols all swim together, piece themselves into a puzzle that begin to take shape. Codes, codes, codes...I sank into the formula, into the formulation of the code. When I sensed it was complete, the symbols scrolled across my vision.

The pain vanished.

If I could draw breathe of my own accord, I would have laughed. Instead, I sank back into my own thoughts, eager to contact Monster.

We're close, he says. An army of us, Serah.

I want to laugh again. An army. Your gang doesn't count as an army, Rios.

He's silent for a long time. I've never called him by his given name.

When he responds, I sense the caution in his voice. How did you know that name?

Your name means monster in Nexari. I just sort of knew.

You're waking up. That's good. A long pause. I think.

He talks to me until Saia leaves me alone, naked, flesh opened. The drugs wear off and it's torture to breathe with the tube in my throat. It's a constant fight to let it breathe for me. My wrists are bound to the chair with fabric and leather restraints. Saia herself nailed leather straps to the chair after I learned how to manipulate the restraints connected to the chair. Figuring out the chair's brain had been a little bit of a challenge, but I'd managed. I'd even gotten out of the room and into a stairwell before Saia's drone tracked me down.

Monster's voice keeps me sane. I used to dread hearing his deep, gruff voice on the streets. Now, I cling to it. To keep my mind off whatever Saia does to my body, he tells me what he knows of the universe. It's not much; he's been on Earth for a long time, out of contact with anyone beyond Earth's atmosphere. 

The Nexari Empire reigns--or reigned--over most of known space. If a planet refused to capitulate and pledge fealty, it was taken by force. I balked at that, but Monster tells me it's the way of war. I don't agree. Thirty habitable planets, most terraformed to make them viable, some natural, in five solar systems, all bow to the Nexari emperor and the ruling family. Four other systems stand by the Ghiatam ruling family. 

Why are they at war? I ask. 

Monster lists the usual things. Money. Territory. Resources, for the most part. Terraformed planets produce a material used in FTL drives, and it can't be replicated. He who owns the most terraformed planets rules the galaxy. Without the byproduct, long-distance travel is impossible. 

There's another thing they fight for. Science. When the universe was young and both ruling families existed in relative peace, scientists worked to make people adaptable to the newly-forming planets. Genetic modification became a necessity for many of the terraformed worlds. As is the way of things, the new discoveries and methods of genetic modification became a weapon. The Nexari and the Ghiatam began to fight. 

They gave us interfaces, so we could learn faster and manipulate our sourroundings, Monster explains. Our bodies and our brains are more computer than flesh. Our bones are harder than steel. We can wrap ourselves in impermeable armor at a mere thought.

How? I ask.