Shadow Army: A Shadows Rising Novella

3. Escape

Nox

It began as any other 'down' day.

There were no field tests scheduled, no weapon fittings to endure, no re-programing sessions in the white room. My body was sitting quietly in a chair at a small playing table. Jarren was sitting oposite, brow puckered in thought. He had set up his frazenboard between us, and he was using my hands to play a game of Two States against himself.

We were the only people in the containment room. Out in the guard station at the end of the corridor, I could hear Havier and Rolland talking about the next bagarrow game. Havier was a mean old cuss who knew the ropes, but Rolland was new. Inexperienced.

I wouldn't have this chance again. The testing and arming phases were nearly complete, and the week before I had overheard Dr. Marodian talking about doing a demonstration for High Command. I was running out of time.

I didn't watch the board. I watched Jarren, smiling inwardly as he began frowning, his eyes narrowing as he tried to make my fingers pick up a Sword and Rose. Each time, my hand moved toward a Shield and Stone instead. The growing confusion on his face was worth every fiery stab in my skull as I fought the obedience protocol.

"Odd," he muttered, glancing down at the contact glove that allowed him to control my muscles and movements. He unbuckled the leather gauntlet and peeled the palm piece off, then withdrew his fingers from the nest of control toggles that told my hand what his hand was doing.

I waited as he reached for one of the delicate rubber tubes that sprouted from the upper surface of the gauntlet like long, pale worms, each one joined together in a braided bundle that ran from the glove to the coupling apparatus strapped to my head.

I concentrated, focusing not on him, but on my own body, diverting every ounce of my energy into anticipating what was about to happen.

His fingers pinched the tube slightly.

After a year of observing everything Jarren did, I knew exactly which tube it was, and what response it would trigger.

I felt the familiar slide of that dark urge in my brain... but instead of lifting my little finger, my entire arm moved, and my hand reached up to grab the cable where it was latched into the interface headgear.

Jarren gasped like he had just set something on fire, and quickly released the tube, but it was too late. The impulses never died immediately, and my fingers completed the task I had decided was 'move right pinky.'

It took an insane amount of effort, holding that single thought in my head without varying it at all. I had no idea what it would do, either, ripping that cable out of me without cycling down my processes first. It might fry every last engine I had. But it was the only way out.

The cable disconnected with a mechanical 'pop'... and a sunburst went off in my brain. Sudden, blinding, white. It exploded through me, every nerve firing at once. That was it. I was dead. I had to be. 

But then my hydraulic lungs dragged air into my chest, and my heart kicked into rhythm. I staggered to my feet, clutching at my head, a metallic shriek tearing from my throat as my senses all came alive at once.

There was a clatter of wood as Jarren fell backwards in his chair. Long limbs flailing, he scrambled away, horror contorting his face as he realized the full extent of what I had just done. But there was a desperate cunning there, too. He rolled swiftly off the edge of the tilt-table platform and dropped to the floor. Then he made a mad dash for the control panel.

I knew what was about to happen. All those interminable safety drills had been good for something, at least. I glanced around, forcing myself past the dizzy rush of feeling everything. The main power coupling for the tilt table lay like a thick rubber snake at my feet. It took all of half a second to wrap my hand around it and tear it free.