up his throat and collapsed in front of the toilet just in time to vomit violently. His abdomen clenching tightly, he emptied his stomach and he was only able to dry heave. When Yen finally felt stable enough to stand once again, he absently flushed the toilet and stood before the sink, splashing water on his face and washing out the bitter taste from his mouth. The psychic glanced at the mirror and frowned at his own appearance. His yellowed skin looked pale and sickly in the bathroom light. Bruises had spread beneath his dark, ink colored eyes, which had sunk into his face leaving the impression of a skull. Even his dark hair had lost its sheen and hung flat around his face. He looked like a broken remnant of the man who had once prided himself on his appearance.
Disgusted, Yen left the bathroom and returned to the main room of his cabin. Unlike most crewmembers who cooked, entertained and slept in a single room Yen’s station as squadron commander afforded him a suite. His main room held a dining table and kitchen, and he had a separate sleeping room with a private bathroom. Pulling a glass from the cupboard and pouring himself something strong to drink, Yen drained his glass quickly. He enjoyed the burning sensation that washed the bile from the back of his throat. The drink sat heavily on his empty stomach, but he didn’t care as he poured himself a second. The burning alcohol temporarily washed away the concerns that began creeping into him mind once more, questions of how long he could maintain control of a power that yearned to be set free.
Yen poured himself a third, fourth, and eventually a fifth strong glass of liquor before he realized his mind was too cloudy to consider any complex questions, much less restrain a wayward psychic power. Staggering to his bed, he collapsed into its inviting covers. He no longer cared enough about sleeping in his clothes. It was a concern that he filed away for future contemplation.
As Yen slipped fully into sleep, he didn’t notice the last of the ships dock, nor did he notice the announcement that blared through the ship, warning of impending departure from Earth’s orbit. Solidly asleep, he groaned only slightly while shifting positions as the
CHAPTER 7:
Adam adjusted the thick straps that held Cardax to the metal chair, which had, in turn, been bolted to the floor to ensure no chance of the large Oterian escaping. Cardax’s head rolled limply, the smuggler still unconscious from the sedative that had been pumped through his system at the bar. Though the amount of sedative had been excessive, all three members of the strike force were glad to have the extra time to finish preparing the room.
Penchant opened his backpack in the corner, removing a spray can and moving toward the single small window in the room. Spraying thick foam over the window, the room was suddenly cast into darkness, save a small, exposed bulb that hung from the room’s center. Aside from blocking out the light and prying eyes, the foam was an effective sound insulator. Though Cardax was guaranteed to make an exceptional amount of noise, his yells wouldn’t carry beyond the small room.
Keryn, meanwhile, hooked a thick cloth through Cardax’s loose jaws and tied it behind his head, forming both a gag for his impending screams and a muzzle, should he chose to try to bite a member of the team. With the gag fixed in place, she attached two soft rubber stoppers to his horns, making their tips padded and relatively harmless. Everything about Cardax was only relatively harmless; he would continue to pose a threat until he was finally killed.
Standing again, after ensuring the leg straps were firmly attached, Adam checked the fluid bag that hung from a pole behind him. The viscous yellow liquid dripped slowly into the tubing, which Adam traced down to the large bore intravenous needle he had placed into the artery running through the Oterian’s neck.
Satisfied that everything was prepared, she gave the signal to wake Cardax. Pulling a syringe from his small case, Adam injected a clear liquid into the fluid bag. Almost instantaneously, the smuggler’s eyes began to flutter and his head rolled from side to side. Snapping his eyes wide open, a muffled scream of surprise escaped from around the gag and he struggled, in vain, against the leather straps. Cardax felt drained and not in full control of his muscles. He tried to concentrate on his surroundings, but his thoughts seemed to flow through a sea of fog; they rose just long enough for him to grasp at coherent thought before sinking below the surface and out of reach.
“The lethargic feeling you’re experiencing right now is due to the sedative that is being pumped into your bloodstream as we speak,” Keryn began in a soft tone, bending slightly at the waist so that she was eye level with the seated Oterian. “You can continue to struggle against your restraints all you want, but it will be in vain. You are now my pet, subjugated and calm.”
Keryn walked around Cardax’s back, running her fingertips gently over his broad shoulders and stroking the back of his head. Leaning forward to whisper into his ear, she continued, “I will be asking you some very important questions over the course of this evening. If you are cooperative, this will be a short and
“I want to ensure you have a full understanding of our version of discipline, I want to introduce you to Mr. Decker.” She clenched his hair between her hands, forcing him to face toward Adam as he approached. In his hand, he held a serrated scalpel, which he twisted to catch the dim bulb’s light.
As Keryn spoke, her voice took on a violent and malicious edge. “You
Cardax stared at Adam with fearful eyes, feeling helpless so long as the sedative continued to run through his veins. He shook his head futilely, trying to pull away from Keryn’s firm grasp. Seconds ticked by as all the members in the room remained motionless. Finally releasing a sigh, Keryn frowned.
“That was a question, Cardax,” she said with a disturbing calm, “and you failed to answer.” Looking up, she motioned to Adam, who stepped forward, still twisting the scalpel with surgical precision. Cardax let out a muffled scream, his eyes wide with panic.
Adam placed a firm hand against the smuggler’s chest, forcing his back firmly against the cold metal chair. “If you struggle,” Adam warned, “this will be much more painful than it really needs to be.”
Cardax twisted under the pressure on his chest, but couldn’t manage enough strength to break free of Adam’s restraint. Adam placed the scalpel against Cardax’s muscular chest, slipping its blade underneath the thick fur and piercing the skin. Flattening the blade, Adam moved the serrated blade in between the skin and muscle in the smuggler’s chest before applying a downward pressure to the handle. The razor-sharp blade cleanly severed through connective tissue between Cardax’s skin and muscle, causing excruciating pain. Jerking madly, the Oterian screamed and tried in vain to break free of his bonds.
Keryn felt her pulse quicken, beating a maddening rhythm in her chest. Her breathing became labored and sweat beaded along her temples. Each scream felt like claws being drug down her spine. Clenching her eyes tight, she grinded her teeth against the invasive noise.
There had been a time when Keryn would have welcomed the screams; she would have allowed herself to swim in his agony and would finish, sweaty and weary, but exhilarated. But those were darker times; times where she had lived her life for no one but herself. Her darker self had been a defense after losing her brother and becoming estranged from her remaining family. She had worked hard to separate that sadistic person from the woman she had become. But now, hearing the merriment in her own voice as they tortured Cardax, she felt less like she was swimming in his suffering and more like it was threatening to drown her; she felt as though she was clawing for air toward a surface that grew further and further away as dark hands pulled her deeper into her own masochism.
Struggling for breath, Keryn released the Oterian’s head and stumbled back until she was able to lean against the far wall. She felt the bile building in her throat, threatening to make her physically ill. Adam stopped, withdrawing the scalpel and standing straight, blood still dripping from his hand and the smuggler whimpering softly in his chair. He looked concerned, but Keryn wasn’t interested in his sympathy. She walked hastily from the room, fearful that speaking would betray her emotional turmoil.
“Is everything okay?” Adam asked as she stormed past him.
She stopped at the door, breathing deeply to control her shaking hands and quivering lips. “I’m fine,” she said quickly, wanting to be free of both the room and her thoughts. “Continue without me.”
Stumbling out of the back room and through the living room, Keryn pushed open the front door and stepped
