ELDRITCH NIGHT (Rough Draft)

Chapter 35: Questions

She was wearing a new uniform, this one completely white and without any armored plates. The full body jumpsuit had no adornments except for a single circular patch on the left shoulder - three interlocking gold lines atop a cluster of leaves affixed to a blue-green background.

She had no weapons, but she was carrying a small tray covered with a white cloth.

"I'm not sure," I answered. "Someone I didn't want to throttle for selling me out and leading me into a trap, perhaps?"

"That's not exactly how it happened, Finn. I had a job to do, and you were only a small part of that. Did you think we were friends, and even if we were; did you think I would betray my own people?"

"I thought we were a team," I said. "I trusted you. I chose to trust you despite having every reason not to. I risked my life fighting beside you, so yes – I thought we were friends."

This seemed to affect her, as she took a few moments before she began to answer.

"Finn—".

"Look, let's forget it. We're not a team, you were only following orders. I get it. You're a soldier, just tell me why you're here."

Catayla walked over and took a seat on the cold slab that had failed in every way to resemble a bed or comfortable place to sit. She sat her tray down beside her and looked down at me. I was already sitting on the floor directly across from her.

"Do you know why I'm here..." she waved away my attempt to interrupt. "Please, just listen for a moment. We suspect that you were involved with a group of cultists, traitors that have infiltrated and sabotaged your world."

"Is this because of the Eye?" I asked. "Sebbit knew I lied about it, I get it. Is that really enough of a reason to keep me in solitary confinement for weeks?"

"Three days, Finn," she said. "It's only been three days, and we needed that time to finish our investigation. If you cooperate I believe Se... Captain Xern, will be lenient on you."

"Three days... that can't," I said. "And the others? Tiller, is he okay? Bridgett and Worthy – did everyone make it over the river?"

"Tiller is here, we've built a base out of an abandoned Naval vessel," Catayla said. "The others all survived and have been returned to the human settlement, New Charleston."

"Thank you," I said. "I'm glad that you helped them. Is Tiller a prisoner too, can I see him?"

"No," she shook her head. "He's not a prisoner, but he doesn't have free reign of the facility, either. He insists on talking with you, but command has decided that all interactions with you are to be limited."

"Are you going to tell me why you're here, then?" I said. "There isn't much I can tell you, I've only been part of one 'cult' and I doubt you'd be interested in anything that went on at St. Mary's."

"We know," she said. "We've been tracking and recording you since even before I gave you the disk. We don't suspect you are in league with the Separatists, but you are connected somehow."

"Separatists?" I asked. "That sounds an awful lot like an internal matter. Something I, or anyone from Earth, would have nothing to do with."

"Eat," she said. " She uncovered the tray beside her and revealed a small loaf of bread, small red berries, and a glass of a golden-brown liquid. "Afterwards, you can tell me everything you know, and we'll both have to trust that my superiors will know what to do."

"Is that..." I asked while staring at the tray.

"Sweet tea," she answered. "Tiller mentioned it was something of a favorite of yours."

"Well you catch more bees with carrots," I said. "Or was it the stick?"

***

The door slid closed behind Catayla, leaving me alone once more.

I thought back over our conversation. We had spoken for several hours, and I'd held almost nothing back. The only secret I'd kept to myself was the existence of the mental space that the companion occupied, and its ability to speak with me there.

She hadn't answered any more of my questions about the cultists or Separatists, but I was somehow certain that they were connected. The thought scared me more than I can explain. If the event that had destroyed Charleston was not random chance, but instead something engineered, then the implications were terrifying.

Could eldritch abominations and planet devouring Elder Gods simply be summoned like an Uber? Why would such beings even care about what lowly humans did? We were nothing but ants scurrying over a pebble in their eyes.

I had told Catayla everything that had happened since seeing the burning eye. I told her about waking up, unharmed, in a puddle of my own blood all the way up to my battle with the Tartarus Grass. She already knew most of it, but she still made me recount every second of it in clear detail.

She brought up my companion on several instances and would ask about our connection. She seemed particularly concerned with how we communicated and if I shared its memories. We also spent at least an hour going over my actions on the days leading up to Eldritch Night, but I couldn't imagine how anyone I knew could be part of some intergalactic cult.

The most interesting part of our conversations was not anything Catayla had said, but something I discovered on my own. During the entire interrogation the cell door had remained opened, no doubt a tactic to make me feel more relaxed. Not only did this allow the sweet smell of unfiltered air into my room but it also brought with it small amounts of something else.

I could no longer see it, but I recognized the familiar texture. It was faint, almost non-existent, but it was there. As I focused I found small traces of the energy everywhere. It was in the air, and in the food I ate. It clung to Catayla in a thin sheen that was gradually thinning as the energy was absorbed.

I breathed it in and I could feel it invigorating me. It was a subtle change, but very real. I reached out and gathered as much of the energy as I could, being certain not to touch the energy surrounding Catayla.

I had no reason to think she would detect the change, but I had no idea what skills or technology the peacekeepers had. I kept this process up for the rest of the conversation, slowly gathering small trickles of the energy into my closed right hand.

After Catayla had left I held out my fist and slowly opened my hand. Resting in the center of my palm was a small sphere no larger than a marble – a marble made of pure eldritch energy.