Chapter 28 Dom
TWENTY-EIGHT
DOM
This hurts far more than I ever thought it would.
A thread of fire pulls relentlessly against my throat, constricting my air and blood vessels. Surely the circulation to my brain will be halted soon, but until then it’s all pounding pressure that feels like my skull’s going to explode.
All I can do is maintain the sanctity of my mental room where the connection to Law-rah pulses.
It's getting smaller all the time. My muscles spasm out of reflex, but I focus all my attention on keeping this pain from Law-rah.
My body twists, fighting, tugging against the cold pole behind me, but it's all faint.
I'm in my head, with Law-rah, maintaining the wall between us.
‘I'll take over,’ the Apex says, his voice gentle. ‘Rest.’
‘I’m sorry I failed you, Nevare. I'm sorry I wanted more.’ I know this Apex isn't mine, but I need to unburden myself.
He pauses briefly. ‘He would forgive you. I would, if my Bases loved like you do.’
Love.
Love feels like duty mixed with willingness, holding Law-rah close as her emotions swirl around her. Fighting back those horrible spikes of self-doubt and her own desire for perfection, helping her see her strengths. Celebrating her victories, and taking her pain so she can continue to shine.
I do love her.
‘Law-rah,’ I send as darkness crawls over my mind. At last, oblivion, a respite from the pain that has to stay mine.
‘Dom?’ Law-rah opens the connection and pain slips through. I won’t allow it, gathering it close to me.
‘Dom! Stay with me, I won, you have a…’ The rest of her message is blurry, too faint to make out.
And then everything eases.
I take a huge gulp of air, then another, chest heaving. My stomach twists and I vomit, splattering the grill at my feet to drip down into the tank below.
Parthiastocks massage my throat and upper back, bringing feeling back to my limbs. One unchains me and I fall forward, shaking and staring into the watery abyss below the grate. My fingers curl around the metal.
I'm alive. Alive!
“New instructions,” the Apex intones.
The Base scans my chip. “Batch number 8774-3D0M.”
“Sentenced to exile, recovered today on Olorian soil,” the second base continues. “Re-sentenced to euthanization, now on trial for…”
“On trial for what?” I slowly turn my head, neck aching.
His eyes are cold, burning with righteous fury. “Murder.”
After they beat me, the Parthiastocks in the kill room hand me over to others who take me to a holding cell ready for the trial. These ones use their feet as well as their fists.
Protesting my innocence would be futile. I focus on maintaining the shield against Law-rah, protecting my female. Each time their blows rain down, I harden my scales and curl tighter around my mental room.
It's the only thing I have left.
When I wake up, I'm in a dark room, but as soon as I regain consciousness they're back and start all over again. This time when they're through, they drag me out and hang me by the chains on my wrists, leaving me to dangle above a cold mirrored floor.
I try to ground myself in it. The lashes I used to make Arik give me were nothing like these beatings. They were precise, controlled, a sharp slice to focus me. This abuse isn’t precise, it’s everywhere, and too much to handle.
My reflection is thrown back at me from all sides; a purple, black and blue Parthiastock with cracked scales. Half dead, and deserving to be. Blood drips below my feet until my nanites kick into gear and start to heal me.
I can't fault their anger. I'd be angry too if a clone had murdered a female. It's the first order, one that's ingrained in us.
“So I can't have done it,” I murmur. It's part of my DNA, part of my genetic legacy, I can't physically harm a female. It's impossible. “I'm innocent.”
The Voice won't see the conflict between my coding and my actions. I'll be used to demonstrate clones are dangerous, and then our lives will be placed under even harsher restrictions.
Well, theirs will be. I'll be executed.
The betrillium chains cut into my wrists. My nanites heal the wound when I shift position, but the unyielding metal continues to carve into the new location. Cut, heal, cut, heal, an endless cycle.
I want to sink into it to center me, but it's not Law-rah. I want her. I want her breath on my back, her nails on my chest, her touch running up my scales.
My lungs stretch, my torso tight as I'm pulled apart by my own weight.
I don't want this.
‘Law-rah.’ I hate to reach out to her, but as the last thread of golden joy in my life, I need her.
‘Dom! At last, you've been shielding. You're far too good at it.’
‘Thank you.’ Just hearing her voice eases the pain of my false accusation. ‘Why am I accused of murder?’
‘It was the only way I could get you a trial. I'm sorry, but I'll get you off, I promise.’
‘Get me off? Orgasm?’
A faint ping of amusement rings through her. ‘That'll make for an interesting day in court. I meant, get you an acquittal.’
That won't happen, but my determined little female is adamant. I can feel her rifling through a compupad as she speaks to me, her mind busy absorbing information and constructing a case.
She's going to use her skills to fight for me.
‘Thank you,’ I say again. ‘But I'm not worth it—”
“Don't you dare, Dom,” she snarls. ‘You are absolutely worth this and more. I'm sorry I ever let us come here.’
‘We needed to.’
‘No, I thought I needed to. But this price is too high.’
I sway in my bonds. What can I say to that? Before, I'd think any price a female demands is their right, but I know Law-rah wouldn't ask something too costly of me. That's more precious than anything.
Someone who values my life more than I do.
I say, “I don't know what happened to Shade. They aren't here with me.’
‘They're with me, don't worry.’
I close my eyes with relief. Another burden off my mind.
‘Law-rah, I… I hate to ask for this…’
‘What is it?’
I shift in the chains as the new slice in my wrists becomes unbearable. ‘I need help.’
‘Oh, Dom. I know how much that costs you to say.’ She pauses her work, palms pressed to her eyes. Sadness washes over her in a dragging wave. ‘I’m trying. It's been two days and I'm studying everything I can—”
That much time has passed already? ‘Have you been sleeping? Eating?’ I gently probe her mind and scowl. ‘No, you haven't. If I were there, I'd bundle you up into bed and force feed you.’
‘Same to you,’ she replies with a sigh. ‘I have to keep going, every second counts. I have a meeting with Samara and Shara tomorrow to set out the basis of the case, and I can't get this wrong.’
‘You won't.’ I know she'll do a good job, but she needs rest or she'll hurt herself. Besides, she'll need all her reserves when I'm found guilty despite her hard work.
‘No!’ Laura’s reaction is immediate. ‘Justice has to prevail. It has to.’
‘Not for me,’ I tell her, trying to be gentle.
‘Listen to me. I know what I’m doing, I promise. You’re going to be fine.’ Law-rah’s assertion is strong, but underneath, the tide rises. Swirls of unease turn into lakes of black doubt, sucking at her limbs, fouling her thoughts. Sharp spikes form, pulsing inward with every one of her heartbeats.
‘COULDN’T SAVE HIM. CAN’T HELP DOM. WON’T SAVE HIM.’ Law-rah’s true thoughts blast across to me. Heavy chains of guilt weigh her down.
I do the only thing I can to help her. I lift her up and out, shielding her as much as I can through the distance between us, sheltering her in my mental embrace.
‘Dom,’ she whispers, and finally, her walls crumble.
But I can’t meet her. If I lower my shields any further, I risk letting the pain enter our connection.
Like a seasoned Apex, Law-rah surges down the mind-sync. She's stronger, but then, I expected as much. She lets nothing stand in her way.
Her gasp colors the connection between us as pink as her cheeks as she sees the conditions I’m in. ‘How dare she!’
‘She?’
‘Prif Samara. I bet this is her doing.’
I shake my head, even though it makes my shoulders burn. ‘Perhaps as a result of the system she's put in place, but there's nothing personal here.’
Fresh anger washes over me. Her fortitude warms me against the chill of this empty torture cell.
She gently collects me and draws me down the connection between us. I don't know how I’m doing this without Nevare to guide me. This is the work of an Apex, but Law-rah has no psychic power of her own.
In her mind is a wooden door, similar to the one we have built for El-len’s barn. The thick wood stands firm, a strong shield indeed. I run mental hands over it. It even feels smooth, but cold.
The handle turns and it opens. Inside the ceiling lies low and cramped, the walls bare. I have to duck my head; Law-rah's secret room is too small for me. ‘Law-rah?’
‘Here.’
I turn, and confront perfection.
My beautiful human stands, wrapped in golden gauze Obaya layers. It makes her look like spun gold, gleaming over her hips and breasts, hiding her treasures while hinting at them.
She’s lovely.
‘You like?’ She smiles, and my hearts in my physical body double-thump hard. Her hand searches the pockets in her gauze before she pulls out her lipstick triumphantly. “Right. You’ll be fine, Dom. I promise.”
The repeated assurance rings against the bare walls, hollow. Tight lines form around Law-rah’s eyes, wide with fear.
What does she have to be scared of here, inside her sanctuary? Is it me, the fact I’m here?
Behind me, a low but insistent knocking starts on the door. Law-rah startles, takes my hands, leads me further into her secret room. Quickly I’m pressed against the far wall away from the door, but the room closes in, creaking.
‘Law-rah—’
‘It’s fine. I’ll sort it, I promise.’ Her fingers tremble in mine as she stares at the door. ‘What’s happening?’
‘I do not know. We are in your mind.’ The door rattles again. I slide my arms around her. ‘I’ll protect you, Law-rah, but whatever it is, you have to let it in.’
‘No. I need to focus. This can’t be happening right now.’