My exuberance at having succeeded quickly faded into a quiet melancholy as I realized I had absolutely no idea what to do with that success.
Even after hours of careful work, all that I had managed to collect was a ball of eldritch energy the size of a large pebble. The problem was that I had absolutely no idea what to do next. It might even be a liability if it were to be discovered.
I considered letting it go, allowing it to vanish into the ether.
I was quickly disillusioned with such a plan, not because it wasn't the best idea but because I was constitutionally unable to simply sit and wait. I needed to do something. Anything.
The sphere of energy was incredibly dense and could probably be stretched out into a dagger or maybe a tool, like a wrench or screwdriver — though I couldn't think of any possible way any of those items would allow me to escape.
If I did escape, what then?
I was being held prisoner by what was, for all ostensible purposes, an alien occupation force that was hundreds or even thousands of years more technologically advanced than humans. I was pretty sure they had planned for 'bad guy with a screwdriver.' At least of the non-sonic variety.
Instead, I simply sat there pondering my open palm. If anyone was watching me they must have thought I had finally snapped. Unless they realized the truth, that is.
You're being watched...
This idea filled me with a sense of dread and I immediately clamped shut my hand, leaving the invisible ball of energy within my closed fist. Until that moment it hadn't even occurred to me that I was probably being watched.
I couldn't see any cameras, but that hardly mattered when dealing with the Peacekeepers. Sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic, plus... they had actual magic. They could be capable of anything.
This didn't stop me, it just convinced me to be more discrete.
I had hoped to practice with the energy, shaping it into tools and weapons. It was a miniscule amount of the energy, but it represented a chance to exercise and grow my skill. Real skill, not the sterilized and easily quantifiable version granted by the system.
There was no way such actions wouldn't draw attention. If I was going to practice it would have to be something less visible. Something more... internal.
With a thought I released the energy. It quickly separated into innumerable threads that fled in every direction – or they would have had I not exerted my control once more. I guided a small number of the threads back into my hand, allowing them to be absorbed through my pores.
More...
I stopped holding back and allowed every speck of energy to flow into me.
The energy flowed down my arm and into my chest like a flood of frigid water. Feelings of cold and loneliness filled my senses, threatening to drag me down into the depths of depression and self-loathing. The sensation quickly passed, but I was left with the idea that such emotion did not originate from myself.
I shivered for a moment as I contemplated my situation. Depression did not seem unreasonable, and yet I had never felt such absolute despair before. I was pretty sure it would have shown up by now if I was predisposed towards it.
It was as if I had, for just a moment, been completely cut off from any sense of connection or belonging, as if I were alone in a cold an unforgiving universe.
It was a terrible feeling that could easily consume me, a common danger when dealing with anything that had to do with the eldritch.
I knew that the energy could shape reality. Could it shape emotion as well? Perhaps it was the other way around – my own emotions warping and amplifying the effects of the energy.
There were no easy answers to be had so I turned my attention back to the energy that was now flowing through my body. In the past, I had never been able to contain the energy within myself, instead always needing to draw it from the environment or from the Companion.
The eldritch energy that I had tried to hold onto would quickly be absorbed and lost or converted into mana. Whatever the Peacekeepers had done to me seemed to arrest this ability, preventing me from absorbing the energy.
Perhaps someday I would thank Sebbit and his goons for giving me this opportunity.
I spread the threads of energy as evenly throughout my body as possible. I could only consciously control a small number of the threads at a time, but the rest seemed to respond to my intent. Within moments almost every inch of me was infused.
I could feel every speck of energy as it coursed through my veins, suffused my flesh, and sank into my bones. There was so little of it, and yet it seemed infinitely capable of transformation – easily stretching to fill the shape of my body.
I closed my eyes, focusing on the energy. What came next might have been the closest I had ever come to achieving a true meditative state, despite my previous attempts. All of my focus was on the energy within, cancelling out any distracting thoughts or outside stimuli.
Not only could I feel the energy, I could feel how it interacted with my cells. I didn't feel stronger, but I felt an awareness of my own form that surpassed anything I had experienced before.
Now that I had claimed it, the energy felt different, more responsive. Each particle was as much a part of me as my own limbs. What's more... it was incomplete. I could feel more of it calling out to me, cut off from me but still resonating and connected to the energy within me.
I'm not sure how long I stayed like that, perhaps hours. The thought occurred to me that it was a good thing that I had established meditation as part of my normal routine over that last few days. The other part of my routine had been calisthenics – push-ups, sit-ups, and stretches mostly.
I decided to do a few push-ups to test if my strength had improved at all. I had gained a fairly good idea of my own capabilities over that last few days, so any significant improvement should be easily noticed.
After about forty push-ups I could feel my arms beginning to weaken and every additional repetition became more difficult — I was collapsed on the floor by the time I reached sixty. I was certainly in much better shape than I had been a few weeks ago but the energy didn't seem to be having any effect.
The only difference had been an increased awareness of my own muscles. I could feel muscle fibers contract and expand with each motion. I could almost see each of the fibers and where they attached to ligament and bone.
This greater awareness of my own body also showed me that my form was sloppy as hell. I was allowing my back to arch, and my elbows flare out way too far. It was easy to correct, but I had felt the increased difficulty immediately.
It had actually been a little disconcerting watching myself like that, it felt almost like an out of body experience.
I rested with my back against the wall, giving myself a short recovery time before trying again. This time I wanted to try focusing all of the energy into just the muscles being used. My new awareness would make them easy to identify. Hell, I could literally feel muscles I never knew I had.
I had a theory that I could use the energy to pull and push in time with my muscles, not actually making them stronger but supplementing them by mimicking their actions. I tried a few stretches and was just about to begin doing more push-ups.
I didn't get the chance, however, as the door to my cell began to open once more. The clicking of spinning gear teeth was accompanied by the soft hiss of pneumatics. The first thing I noticed was an inflow of energy, though I held back from gathering it immediately.
I didn't even turn my head before saying, "Back already? I figured you'd let me stew for a while longer."
"I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone else, Mr. Finn," said the familiar sound of a mechanical translator.
I turned my head and found the red-skinned Peacekeeper captain staring down at me. Shit, how cool would that have looked if it had been Catayla.
"Sebbit, buddy," I said with a mock smile. "Here to let me go? Let bygones be bygones?"
I saw an almost imperceptibly quick upturn at the corners of his mouth before the captain looked behind him and nodded once. Two large Peacekeepers charged into my cell and grabbed me by my arms.
My feet didn't even touch the floor as they dragged me into the hallway.
***
I found myself in a room that, surprisingly, made my previous cell look almost luxurious. It was incredibly narrow, no more than two meters wide, and roughly twice as long. The only furniture was two backless stools on opposite sides of a small plastic folding table with metal legs.
The table took me aback for a second. For some reason it just felt wrong to see something so... human. So normal.
One of my guards grunted and pushed me down onto one of the stools, before turning to leave. This left me alone with the red skinned captain.
No one had bothered to restrain me. In my present condition I was probably considered no more dangerous than a particularly rambunctious toddler.
"Perhaps you are ready to have a conversation, Mr. Finn," Sebbit said. The captains stood, with one hand resting on the table beside a small cylindrical machine. It was a solid tube of metal except for two black, triangular protrusions and a rectangular screen displaying symbols in an unknown language.
"If you wanted to talk you're always welcome to stop by," I said. "No reason to drag me into some interrogation room and threaten me with..." I gestured at the device. "Whatever the hell that thing is."
I crossed my arms and tried to stare down the captain, but the truth was that I was just putting on a show. I had lost any desire to rebel, and I knew my only way out of this situation was by cooperating.
The idea of giving in still pissed me off, though.
"This is no time for quips, Mr. Finn. We're dealing with a very serious situation, one that goes far beyond any misgivings I have about your lack of candor." The captain sat across from me before continuing. When sitting we were almost the same height, and he held eye contact with me for several seconds.
"In fact, I haven't brought you here for an interrogation, despite what you may think."
"And this is?" I said, pointing at the device held between us.
"This, Mr. Finn, is proof. Proof of a conspiracy that threatens to destroy not only your own world but countless others, as well. We'll get to that in a moment, but first—"
As Sebbit spoke he pulled a small envelope out of a pouch on his belt and placed it in front of him.
"What's this?" I said.
Sebbit didn't answer, instead reaching out with a clawed hand and gently opening the envelope. He took out a picture, one of the small ones meant for a wallet. As he placed it in front of me I immediately recognized it. In fact, I had been there when it was taken.
"Do you know this person, Mr. Finn?"
"That's... why are you showing me this? There's no fucking way..."
I stood up and began pacing the length of the room. Sebbit did nothing to stop me. He just remained sitting, quietly watching me.
I finally gave up and sat down once more, staring at the picture that still sat on the plastic, coffee stained table.
"She has nothing to do with this. Do you understand me?" I looked up at Sebbit, but his expression was unreadable. I picked up the picture and looked at it, trying to will it to speak.
The woman in the picture stared back at me. She wore a yellow and white checkered sun dress and her face was lit up in one of the most beautiful smiles I had ever seen. In fact, it had been months since I had seen her this happy.
"Liv..." I whispered.