Chapter 31 Laura #2
The second Apex crosses behind Dom, staring blankly until his Base murmurs instructions.
Slowly, his hands lift: one on the back of Dom’s head, the other pointed to the floor.
Light, pure and shimmering, spills from his palms and into the tiles below.
The illumination flows like a river to the edge of the courtroom, then projects upwards in a reverse waterfall, a huge screen for all the court to see.
At first, the image is misty, then resolves: the Apex in front of Dom, but face on, and beyond that myself to the left, the Prif to the right. I take a step sideways, and the image follows.
The Apex is projecting what Dom’s seeing.
“Fear. Uncertainty. Despair,” the Apex behind him mumbles.
“It’s okay, Dom,” I tell him. “I’ll stop this.”
Sweat rolls down his scales, the manacles clinking behind his back as he tries to move.
“The test must be completed, or his euthanization will take place,” the Voice warns.
Shit. Shit!
“Waves in the way. Can’t… touch,” the first Apex, the one in front of Dom, says.
The Base nods his head, smoothing back the sweaty hair from his wave brother’s forehead, just as Dom would do for Nevare. “Prif Samara, the collar needs to be removed in order for 5NT7S to begin the test.”
“Very well,” Samara says. “But if he so much as moves a single psychic muscle, I want him destroyed. Understand?”
“Of course, Prif.” The Base seizes Dom’s jaw in a firm grip, then pulls a pin from the golden collar. It releases, and Dom’s eyes roll just as a wave sweeps into me.
His voice bursts into my mind like a sunbeam through cloud, warm and bright. ‘Law-rah!’
‘Dom! At last—’
‘No! You have to stay away from the mind-sync, Law-rah, or you’ll be—’
The Apex’s hand settles on his head, and everything fractures.
Dom shudders violently. The bond flares bright and jagged with pain, and then plunges downward. The Apexes’ powers take him, like hands yanking him underwater.
I don’t think. I dive.
The courtroom vanishes, replaced by smooth walls of shimmering black metal, sucking all the light away. The space is small. Cramped. There’s no furniture, no bed. Only a corner where Dom hunches, arms wrapped around his knees, body curled like a wounded animal.
I land hard beside him, breath knocked from my chest. The air is thick, cloying as a humid day in summer, and buzzing.
“Law-rah?” Dom croaks.
“I’m… here.” Sucking in a lungful of air is impossible, like breathing in treacle. I can’t breathe, why can’t I breathe?
Stay calm. Dom needs me.
Reaching out, I take his hand, the action steadying both him and me. Like a feedback loop, always circling, restoring us each in turn.
Dom meets my eyes. He gets to his feet, still staring at me, at our joined hands, the space so small he has to duck his head with his shoulders pressed to the ceiling.
“Dom, what test are they doing?”
“Test?” he murmurs. “What do you mean, Law-rah?”
“The thing with the two Apexes, one’s transmitting your thoughts, the other is doing… this.” I wave at the cramped space.
The big alien glances around. “This is my mental safe space. It’s… wondrous you’re here. You’re welcome, but it’s small. Like me.”
“Small?” I move into his embrace. “You’re not small, babes. In any dimension.”
His eyes go distant. “I’m not as smart as a Selthiastock.
Not as strong or adventurous as a Gerverstock.
My purpose is tied to Nevare’s, and he has to come first. I cling to my soothing rituals, obey my genetic programming, stay within carefully controlled limits.
It’s the safest course of action. So, yes, I am small.
Not… not worthy.” He squeezes me close, buries his face in my shoulder.
I hold onto him, giving him as much grounding as he gives me.
Breath hot against my neck, he whispers, “And yet, I still want you.”
Before I can respond, the walls surrounding us rip away. The landscape flickers, solidifying into Ellen’s farm, the machine shed, her farmhouse in dizzying images.
Dom jerks back, his jaw working as each image slides into place. His arms brace, protecting my head, and I let myself relax into him, just for a heartbeat. I’ll continue to fight, but right now, I need his reassuring presence to bolster me.
His grip on me tightens as we settle onto gravel. A warm breeze brushes over us, bringing with it the smell of Ellen’s farm: heady soil, rich hay. It smells fresh and alive.
“Law-rah, we’re…” He lets me go, stepping away as if burned. “I’m deeply sorry. We’ll be seen, your first order will be violated.”
The breeze turns cold where his body had pressed against mine. I reach out to him. “Dom, I don’t care about that anymore.”
He frowns, a flicker of hope dancing in his eyes.
Then the air turns hot. Choking. Ashy.
I turn, and confront Ellen’s entire legacy burning.
The farmhouse is a skeleton of charred beams and crumbling stone, flames licking through its hollow heart as smoke coils into the blood-red sky. All around, the fields are blackened wastelands, nothing left but scorched earth and smoldering stumps.
I cough. The air is thick with ash and ruin, the silence broken only by the hiss of fire.
Through air thick with smoke, Nevare steps forward. The scales on his chest shimmer with residual power, his body scorched, trembling. Blood streaks his hands and chest.
Dom stumbles back as if struck. The color drains from his face, his focus locked on Nevare, who sways in place, arms limp, covered in ichor and soot. He stands before us like a collapsed star: brilliant once, now devouring himself from the inside out.
“Nevare? Where’s Arik?” Dom’s voice breaks. He staggers forward. “I can’t hear him, only you. Where—”
Nevare lifts his head, his eyes wild, unseeing. “Dead,” he snarls.