Captivate (Manipulate, Book 2)

Chapter 46

Basher was alone in his office when he saw the first news reports of the death chamber. The video showed an amphitheater. Tier upon tier of stone seats descended to a low central stage. The stage was littered with strange furniture that took Basher longer than it should have to recognize. With a start, he realized several of the objects were guillotines. They all looked different- but the general form was there: a platform of some sort, a rectangular track with a wicked blade, plus a rope or lever that released the blade...

With that context he now recognized the rest of the objects. An electric chair, a stump with an ax sunk into it, and a hangman's noose, complete with trapdoor.

Two rows of humans stood on the edge of the grisly stage. It looked like their hands were tied behind them.

The newscasters were excited. “If you have not heard, the Merith have reopened one of their oldest death chambers on Merith Prime. This arena was built only a century after the Pontifex’s palace, which lies half a mile away.”

Basher watched blankly. They can't... surely they won't...

He could see Merith in many of the tiered rows, and a whole unit of them on the ground, directing the proceedings. He'd heard of Merith death chambers in passing, but never seen one.

The newscasters continued, “Used for condemned criminals and prisoners of war, Merith death chambers offer a fascinating insight into the Merith culture. Beyond their obvious entertainment value, the death chambers are known for their cultural diversity. The Merith will only execute an individual in a manner appropriate to his, her, or its planet of origin. Within this framework, their artists are free to create their own anthropological arguments in favor of different styles of execution.”

There was no sound, but the executions began and continued for some minutes.

Basher watched, frozen.

“The Galactic Council has only today confirmed that the treaty between the Humans and the Rik has been dissolved. The Rik are no longer a sponsored species and have lost all status in the Galactic Council. Apparently the Merith were aware of the imminent decision, for no time seems to have been lost here.”

Basher shook his head. This horrible event was already over. They weren't watching a live video feed; Faal must have planned this before he came to Selta.

Suddenly Faal appeared on screen. He looked confident and at ease.

“I wish only to assure humanity that these are not your fellow humans," Faal said calmly, his voice effortlessly overriding the voice of the reporter. "These are fakes, to use the human vernacular that I am familiar with. They are Rik who had taken human bodies and who did not return to Earth during the general amnesty following their sentience trial.”

Another three execution were shown.

"This video will be broadcast throughout Merith mainspace in the coming weeks. We are not ashamed of this nor do we seek to hide it. If other species were wise, they would take similar steps." Faal blinked leisurely. "It is the beginning of our efforts to completely destroy any and every Rik who dares to take another body. Every sentient species must realize that this is a practice which must be entirely eradicated. The Rik can take anyone, any one, and steal their life, honor, and property."

For the very first time, Basher heard something like sincerity in Faal's alien voice. His vendetta against Claire aside, he was absolutely in earnest about this.

“Until the mere idea of this technology is anathema to the Rik, we will not stop. We will create a nightmare that will haunt the Rik for untold generations. This is just the beginning." He looked slowly, with measured contempt, at his invisible audience. "The Rik are a threat to you all, whether you play at being allies or not. And this may horrify you, but in the end you will thank us."

Basher watched one more execution, clearly a sort of culmination, before stopping it. He sat perfectly still. What have we done?

***

Sage rubbed the new tattoo on his wrist gingerly. It looked perfect, though it hurt like the dickens while Francois did it. ‘Like the dickens…” He didn’t even know what that phrase meant, but it came to his tongue naturally. If Claire were here, she could tell him. He stood in the tiny living room of yet another nondescript flat, but Claire was not here to bring life and humor to it this time.

“Go out the side entrance to the third level,” Sage told the next group of Rik. They were also rubbing their wrists, but they looked elated.

One of them paused as they left. “Sage, we already contacted a Tergre who’s willing to transport us if we have the tattoo. He’s asking nearly a thousand per head – but we can swing it.”

“That’s good,” Sage said. “You should leave as soon as possible. Nowhere in Merith mainspace or influence will be safe for a long time.”

“You can come with us, Sage. If it weren’t for you, none of us would be here.”

Sage frowned. There was more than one way to look at that.

“Let me know, we’ll be leaving tonight and he only has ninety spots.”

Sage nodded. “I’ll let you know.”

He waited for them to leave before having the next five Rik come up from a different entrance.

Francois had done over a hundred tattoos in the last ten hours, and there were at least a hundred more to go. Sage had moved him to another flat than the one they’d stayed in before. Sage didn’t think Claire would lead anyone back to where they’d been, but it was a risk he couldn’t afford to take for the others who were depending on him.

It had been surprisingly hard to leave, knowing that even if Claire tried to come find him, she wouldn’t be able to. He’d severed the last tie with her, and when he left Selta, his chances of ever seeing her again would be next to nothing.

It was for the best, he thought, but then caught himself. The best for who? Not for him, but probably the best for her. There he was thinking selflessly again. It was insidious.

Francois was looking at him with a twinkle in his eyes. “It’s not bad to change.”

“Yes, it is,” Sage said, somewhat rudely. “Because it doesn’t do any good.”

Francois levitated a chair out for him. “Have a seat. You haven’t rested since the day before yesterday.”

Sage sat. He was tired. When Claire had been shot and Faal took her, he’d been panicked. Whatever theories he had about Faal wanting to keep her alive seemed suddenly optimistic beyond the point of foolishness. Faal would kill her, and that would be that.

Sage had been desperately afraid for her.

Anyway, the rest had happened. He’d known he had to disappear before the standoff was over, or Basher would only have arrested him again.

Francois levitated him a glass of water.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” Francois meditatively swirled the remaining ink in its crystal container. “I am going to come with you.”

“With me? Why? What about your restaurant?”

“It can wait for me. I feel the urge to travel, and I feel the urge to travel with you.”

“I’m not planning on taking a cruise,” Sage said, but he was already thinking. If Faal was collecting Rik for the death chamber, as he seemed to be doing, it would be useful to have a Crosspoint with him. Someone above reproach (or Merith influence) and with certain powerful contacts...

“I know you’re not. But having come this far, I’d like to see how your endeavor progresses. Call me an interfering fool, but I am going to come.”

Sage nodded slowly. “I appreciate it.”

Francois grinned. “Let’s shake on it.”

Sage’s hand was still vibrating when the next five Rik came furtively to the door to get their tattoo.

TO BE CONTINUED...