10 - RAYNEIR

10

RAYNEIR

          Time crept by as he spent an uncertain number of endless days in darkness, left alone to dwell on grim thoughts of anger and despair.  He didn't know how many interrogations he'd undergone, how many beatings, by prison guard and inmate alike, he'd endured.  Spending the majority of his life in Masara's undercity had taught him how to fight well enough, but there was only so much he could do when facing four opponents twice his size.  He felt it had almost become a game to them, something to break up the monotony of the daily routine, and, as long as he wasn't killed, the gaurds tended to look the other way at the expense of a mass murderer.

          After all this time Rayneir had yet to hear even the slightest murmur of a trial, or of any sort of due process whatsoever.  When he wasn't suffering tortures he was in this cell, left to waste away with just enough food to keep him alive.  That, and his pain and anger were all he had to keep himself going, but for what he wasn't sure.  He had nothing, everything he'd had he lost along with his only friend.  Once again Rayneir's thoughts drifted to Talios, his poor Hadaran comrade.

          He didn't deserve what happened, he was still such an innocent being, thrust into a cruel world Rayneir had long since learned how to survive in.  A large part of him wished it had been him to go, not his friend.  He'd come to accept that the package they delivered contained the explosive used at the federal building, and Rayneir blamed himself with his lust for money for accepting the job that got them in that situation.  There was no way either one of them could have known of course, but he shouldn't have allowed himself to be so blind to easy money.  They were easy targets, he mused, two young men without any connections eager to acquire wealth.  Manipulating them was simple, parade a beautiful woman in front of them and offer them what they wanted most and there wasn't anything they wouldn't do.  Rayneir cursed himself constantly for his blind ignorance.  He should have known better, for Talios sure would not have.

          His death haunted his dreams, during those times he allowed himself to sleep.  The calm look he had on his face seconds before he died was burned eternally in his mind.  His kind black eyes and innocent smile shattered into a hundred pieces over and over again to the sound of thunder, and Rayneir felt more and more helpless every time he relived that moment.

          But the despair he felt was not alone, for that was not the only part of the memory that played on repeat in his mind.  Another face looked at him from the depths of his dark thoughts.  Judicator Vaelghemer.  His merciless eyes and careless smirk incited the most intense hate Rayneir had ever felt.  When he wasn't reliving his close friend's death he was imagining the foulest acts of revenge he could think of.  He expected he would spend the rest of his natural life in this prison, but should chance favour him, he would stop at nothing to make his darkest dreams come true.

          "Are you alright?"  A voice of honey bright him out of his trance.  His neck sore, he slowly craned his head up to see the source.  After a moment of his eyes adjusting to light, a woman appeared in his sights.  She was vaguely familiar, like something out of a dream.  Perhaps he was indeed dreaming, or had finally fallen completely over the edge of sanity.  Confused, he looked around, and saw the familiar surroundings of his prison.  He sat on the same dirt floor, covered in filth and excrement, and was surrounded by three walls of cold steel.  The fourth was a solid pane I'd some sort of extremely tough glass, and was his only bleak window to the outside world.  He'd tried to break it, as likely had countless many before him, yet had only managed to almost break his arm.

          On the other side she stood, fair and beautiful, and after a moment's intense thought he finally recognized her.  It was the nurse from the clinic, the same whom had treated his gunshot wound.

          "Are you alright, Rayneir?"  Concern filled her voice as she peered at him through the glass with thoughtful eyes.  For a moment he struggled to find his own voice, and even longer to find the words to respond.

          "I'm... alright." His speech was slurred and incomprehensible, and had to take another moment to lick his chapped lips and clear his throat.  "Why are you here?"

          "You and your friend were all over the holo net as soon as the attack happened.  I've been trying to find you ever since."

          This was most unexpected.  Rayneir wondered why she would risk her freedom like this for someone she barely knew.  He didn't even know her name.  Surely the executors would have realized that Rayneir and Talios had gotten the package from her clinic.  

          "But... the package." 

          Her expression saddened at the mention of it.  "I don't know how that happened.  It was delivered anonymously under the guise of our parent facility.  There was no way we could have known what was inside.  I'm sorry you and your friend got tangled up in all this."

          "Talios."

          "What?"

          "His name was Talios."

          "Was?  Is he not in another cell?"  Rayneir didn't answer, having faith that that was all the answer she needed.  She looked down, her face growing even sadder than before.  "Oh."

          For a while there was only silence, Rayneir sitting on the floor of his cell and the woman appearing to be fighting back tears.  Finally she looked back up at him, her depressive look replaced with that of determination.

          "They questioned me after the incident, and I told them several times you were innocent.  I don't think they believed me, or cared.  But now that I know you're here, I'll visit you as often as I can.  And I'll do my best to convince my superiors to petition for your release."

          Rayneir looked back up at the woman, her crystal blue eyes overflowing with tears.  He didn't have words to say to her, not even in appreciation.  No words from even the most righteous mouths could convince him that he'd do anything except die here, if not from torture, then from starvation.  He hadn't the heart to portray these feelings to her, however.  He wouldn't have felt right to take that from her, why, he didn't know.  There may yet have been a soft spot in his heart for others, as little as he wanted to admit to himself.  It did him little good in the end.

          "Don't bother.  As far as the rest of the Federation is concerned, I'm already dead."

          The woman said nothing at this, defeat in her eyes.  Rayneir looked back down towards his squalid surroundings, hoping that she would not linger for long.  After everything that happened, he realized he didn't want her to see him like this, pathetic and alone.  The best thing for her to do was to leave him to suffer in peace, hopefully happy with the knowledge that because of her, he experienced one last somewhat happy moment during his final days.

          "You should go.  Don't waste your energy on me."

          Her expression changed from sad to hurt.  "Alright.  But when things seem hopeless, think of me.  I'll be happier knowing that at least I can help in some small way."

          Rayneir wanted to tell her that she already had in the moments she stood there awaiting a response.  He wanted to say that in between the countless times ahead that Talios' last seconds played over and over again in his mind, her face would appear and help ease the pain.  He said nothing, however, not wanting to prolong the awkwardness of her prolonged presence.  He preferred the solitude of his own mind, and wished to return.  

          After what seemed like forever she turned and walked away, leaving him to his thoughts.  He wasn't sure exactly what to make of her visit, perhaps fate had seen fit to suspend a glimmer of hope in front of him before someone decided to finally end his misery.  Right before she disappeared from view she slowed, looking back at Rayneir.  She looked as if she was about to say something, and opened her mouth to speak, but quickly shut it again.  A second later she was gone.

          His mind quickly descended back to the depths where they'd spent since he arrived in this place, forcing him to resume his regular gradual decline into his own personal madness.  He did notice, however, that, while his thoughts did circulated around the memories of the worst day of his life, they weren't quite as bitter as they were before.

          There was no way to know how long he sat there after the nurse left.  Several times he drifted off to sleep and back to reality again, his dreams just as haunting as his waking thoughts.  He wondered how long he would remain here.  Rayneir wondered if his misery would ever be directly ended, or if he would simply be allowed to waste away in the cell.  He determined that the latter was the most likely outcome, since he wasn't worth the energy or the bullet.

          "For once you're right."

          Rayneir's head spun about at the sound of someone speaking.  He was still alone.  There was nobody on the other side of the glass, nor was there anyone in the cell with him.  The voice sounded eerily familiar, but he knew there was no possible way it was who he thought.  He watched him die.  Perhaps his isolation was finally starting to take hold of him.

          The sound of multiple sets of footsteps echoed throughout his cell.  It was a rare event for someone to walk by, reserved usually for guard watch changes or for one of said guards to get board and taunt the prisoners.  Rayneir was a favorite among them, he assumed, due to the frequency of their visits.  That, and the enthusiasm of their interrogations.  He dreaded the beatings at first, but now he welcomed the pain.  It was a reminder that he was still alive.

          Three men came into view from the left side of the window.  One was a guard he recognized, but the other two he did not.  A younger man, barely older than Rayneir walked to the guards left holding a display, upon which he scrolled through thick text.  Behind the two was a very intimidating Elyrian man.  Rayneir couldn't guess his age, but even if he tried he'd probably be wrong.  As a race they aged much slower than humans, so it was almost impossible to tell.  He looked no older than forty but it was very likely he could be over a hundred or more.  Apart from the blue skin he looked no different from a human male, with facial hair turning from a dark blue to grey and sparse wrinkles adorning his face.  He looked at Rayneir, pondering him for a moment, then looked to the smaller young human.

          "What about this one?"

          The young man looked to his senior, then to Rayneir, then back to his display.  He browsed through the texts, a confused look draping over his face, then looked back to the Elyrian.  "According to this report there isn't supposed to be anyone in this cell."

          "Oh?"  The Elyrian curiously looked to the guard, who shrugged.

          "He's the Masara bomber.  Well, one of them."

          "I thought both the perpetrators of that crime were eliminated by executors."

          "Well, it looks like one was kept alive for some reason.  I was never told why.  Just to keep him alive, have some fun if we needed to let off some steam."

          The Elyrian nodded with approval, acceptance on his face.  "Well, then, he's a perfect candidate."  He moved toward the glass and eyed Rayneir feverishly.  "You there, stand up.  Let new have a look at you."

         Rayneir had no idea what to think or say at this.  He wondered what exactly the strange man meant by a perfect candidate.  A candidate for what? Perhaps some sort of experiment, where his death meant nothing.  After all, he confirmed Rayneir's belief that the general public believed him to be dead.  He still wondered why Vaelghemer hadn't shot him in the street like he had done with Talios.  The public probably hailed him and his men as heroes for apprehending them, and wouldn't have given a second thought about their quick apprehension and death.  He had said something about someone having plans for Rayneir.  Was this that plan, or happy chance?  Perhaps, with whatever it was, Rayneir's pain would finally end.

          "Stand up when the Imperator commands you!"  Rayneir was brought back to reality at the sight of the younger man entering his cell, anger on his face and a club in his hand.

         "Reeves!"  The Elyrian called sharply.  "Stand down, there's no need for that.  Look at him.  Look in his eyes.  There's nothing you can do that would affect him now."

          The younger man, Reeves, stopped in his tracks, still staring Rayneir down.  The two never broke eye contact, a defiant look in the eyes of the broken prisoner.  Reeves looked back at his Imperator in protest, then again at Rayneir before slowly turning and walking out of the cell.  Reeves returned to his master's side, defeated, and at that the Elyrian slowly approached the glass.

          "What's your name, son?"  The Elyrian regarded him with the eyes of a father figure, not of the hardened veteran he was expecting.  Rayneir wasn't sure how to react, he had grown so used to hardships he didn't know what to do when presented with kindness.

          "Rayneir."

          "Not anymore.  That boy is dead."  Rayneir looked at the Elyrian with confusion and acceptance as he entered his cell.  He finally was able to get a good look at the man through his unkempt long hair.  The Imperator towered over him dressed in all black and grey, robes covering plate beneath, and a cloak draping his back down to his ankles.  He seemed to be unarmed, although with his loose fitting robes it was almost impossible to tell.  However, he didn't seem the type to necessarily need any, as he possessed an air that hinted that he was a formidable force in and of himself.  "How would you like to come work for me?"  

          Rayneir looked up at the Elyrian in shock.  He couldn't believe what he was hearing, and something in the back of his mind told him that this was some sick joke, or a hallucination.

          "And if I told you to go throck yourself?"

          "You watch your tongue!"  The younger man shouted at Rayneir from behind the glass.

          "Reeves."  The Imperator didn't even turn his head, simply sporting an annoyed look on his face.  "Well, then I'd simply respond with 'Stay here, and rot in this cell for the rest of your short natural life'.  But if you come with me, you would have a chance at redemption."

           Rayneir thought for a moment about his proposition.  There was no reason to trust him, and for all he knew, whatever he had in mind would lead to certain death.  Still, if there was a chance to get out of this prison and breathe open air again, he was certainly going to take it.

          "That's such a difficult choice to make."  The Elyrian chuckled at Rayneir's words, and extended his hand to him.

          "I am Imperator Herion Brask."  Rayneir clutched his hand and, with Brask's help, got to his feet.  "Welcome to the Grimms."

*****

          "Why must they always choose the hard way?"  A lightly distorted voice echoed through the passageways off the Intrepid as black boots stepped over Vektor's bloody corpse.  A dark figure looked over his fresh victory through a blackened metal mask.  Bluish green eyes pierced through a tattered black hood as the figure surveyed the immediate area, careful not to step in pooling blood.

          His victim didn't need to die, at least not so messily, but when he refused to answer the simple questions presented to him he had chosen his fate.  So, now, he lay on the ground, growing cold, and the dark figure was forced to find the answers to his questions on his own.

          He looked around to get his bearings.  The passageway stretched in either direction away from him and curved out of sight.  An open door nearby revealed the ship's bridge, and another opened to what appeared to be some sort of common area.  He might have been able to glean some information from the ship's logs on the bridge, but with the little amount of time he had given its crew after they intercepted his prize, he doubted there would be much of any worth.  The common area was also useless to him, so he strained to peer down each direction of the passageway in turn.  He had a masterful understanding of the Federation standard tongue, but his knowledge of its alphabet was somewhat lacking.  Still, he was able to get by for the moment.  In one direction he saw an arrow labeled "CREW QUARTERS, ARMOURY" and in the other, another such arrow labeled "ENGINE ROOM, MED WARD," and one other phrase he couldn't decipher.

          "Inevitability."  The figure moved down the passageway towards the med ward, stepping carefully over his fresh kill.  He took his time dodging the red puddles, and once clear, made his way to his destination.  "It is inescapable."

          Minutes later he stood before the door to the ward, which during his attack was rendered inoperable.  It sat half shut, and upon his approach, failed to open, catching on a piece of debris that had lodged itself in its track.  But he could see his target within, the foolish girl that had tried to escape him on the barren world.  Her body was still as stone, his efforts having evidently not been in vain.

          If he weren't wearing a mask, a smile would have been visibly cracking his face.  He shifted sideways and slid through the semi open hatch, resuming his inspection of his work immediately after.  He saw where he had hit her with his rifle, the cloth around the wound caked with dry brown blood.  Her brown skin and large eyes confirmed another guess he'd made to himself, which pleased him.  He made it his priority to be correct as often as possible.

          His gauntleted hand ran the length of the cold metal table she lay upon, the other caressing her face.  He wished he didn't have to kill her.  "Such a waste."  She would have been of great use to his Queen. 

          The importance of his mission brought him out of his fantasy and he carefully began searching her body for the Omnibus.  He wished not to linger here for too long and risk being surprised by the rest of the crew.  After a few moments of his search bearing no fruit his efforts became more hurried, careless, and borderline panicking.  He searched every inch of her body, within her robes and without, and soon came to the realization that that which he came here for was gone.

          It wasn't here, nor was it on her ship.  He had searched it meticulously after he assaulted this ship, and could say without a doubt it wasn't within.  There was only one possibility as to its whereabouts.  The girl had given it to one of the crew.

          He spent the next half hour feverishly searching the ship for it, even checking the body of the dark skinned human he'd slain.  His efforts were of no avail.  That meant that one of the remaining crew members had it on their person.  This complicated things.  He had no idea what they looked like, and they were likely among the general population of the nearby settlement.  The success of his mission was no nearer than it was when he first set out.

          An idea struck him, one that was both bold and in direct violation of his mission parameters.  But it was the only way to ensure his success.  

          He found himself back in the med ward, studying the girl from her Syndicate, his blade in hand.  With a quick extension of his thumb, the motor in the hilt sprung to life.  He then effortlessly cut through the straps that secured her to the table, killed the motor and returned the blade to its rightful place within his cloak.  Carefully he slid his hands under her body and raised her up, her arms hanging limply from her, and made his way from the ship.