She turned. “Teeber, get the wagon. And the muzzles.”
Teeber trotted away. The rest of the complement slouched and muttered.
“I’ll do a quick burst,” came Morgenheth’s voice. “You three just burn it hard.”
Terese spun back to the four men, gripping her shockpole. Most of her company watched casually, out of earshot.
His hand restraint clicked, then opened. The young man rubbed his wrists, sighed in satisfaction and looked up at her. And smiled.
Terese gasped, punching the vibration projectors’ trigger. The projectors whined. Vibrations jolted the captives.
They gritted their teeth, their eyes never leaving hers. But they didn’t convulse.
Impossible. What was going on?
Urgent shouts from the complement behind her, seeing Morgenheth freeing himself.
“Lady, that’s cute, but it’s nothing compared to the Immersion Chamber,” he said.
The other three looked down at their negators, which burst into whistling black smoke. Morgenheth stared as a second click echoed through the clearing. Then, shrugging off his negators, like blankets after sleep, he stood, a hard smile on his lips and something colder in his eyes. Cracks sounded as his companions’ negators broke.
Oh Gods, no.
The correct command was ‘Subdue’ when facing combat-ready infected. She never said it. Perhaps she shouted something like ‘Get them’, or ‘Quick’. Maybe she’d lost her composure altogether and begun praying aloud. All she knew was that she led the Seekers forward, blades and shockpoles at the ready.
Morgenheth stood, waiting for her.
2
“Get up.”
Terese jerked awake, alone on the stone floor. Morgenheth stood unmoving in the doorway. Her arm and leg negators clicked open. How was that possible?
Her stiff muscles, trapped for hours, stretched and rejoiced. Her neck popped as she twisted it. She stood, leaning against the storeroom wall for balance. Light struggled into the small room through cracks that suggested age, and slowly shifting earth.
Behind Morgenheth, stood three motionless silhouettes.
He tossed something that clattered at her feet. “Inspect it.”
Her shockpole! She knelt, gripping it. A quick test of its power sent a thrill of vibration up her arms. Its hum was the comforting sound of her identity: the slim metallic rod, the touch of security. Gods and Polis Armer protect me, she thought. There was no Seeker strategy for infected taking hostages. Why would there be?
“Use it on me.” Morgenheth sounded tired and smelled of stale sweat.
A test, or an excuse to finish her off? She knew she was no match for him. Her sides still ached from the quick drubbing he’d given her the previous evening.
She stepped toward him, shockpole raised.
“No,” he said. “All the way up. Full charge. Let me have it.”
The shockpole’s vibration energy was the energy of life itself, found in all things. Chaos energy, which would be coursing through Morgenheth’s body, was of the Enemy, and harmed all that was good on earth. The two energies were opposites.
Her grip slipped on the pole. “That setting’s for cadvers. It’s fatal, even to uninfected humans!” Too much of a good thing could kill.
“Do it, Saarg!”
Shaking, she pushed the sliding switch to the highest notch and touched her shockpole to the exposed skin above his low collar.
Morgenheth growled and swayed backward. An uninfected civilian would have staggered and collapsed. Even a Seeker would show pain at such concentrated energy. But shockpoles either gave a spark at first contact with infected, or rebounded off them, which meant…
“You aren’t infected,” she whispered.
Armer preserve! She’d traveled three months across the globe with a Head’s complement, chasing nothing. Three months of Pella’s life. Flute lessons, homework, and playtime at the park. Wasted. At least another three months’ journey back across sea and land. Gods, how stupid. The greatest misallocation of Armer Stone’s resources in her fourteen years of service, and she’d led it.
“We’re not Darkness worshippers either, or the pole would’ve knocked me out,” said Morgenheth. “Say it, Saarg.”
“You’re not infected,” she repeated. What in the Gods’ forgotten names was she supposed to do now? Everything she’d expected was turned on its head. “Ah, apologies for the inconvenience, citizens, I’ll return—”
Morgenheth’s snarl cut through whatever words might have tumbled from her. “The Immersion Chamber, Saarg!”
“Yes,” she said weakly. Gods, how much had they learned from the papers they’d taken from the Immersion Chamber? Although it was morning outside, the shelter was growing smaller and darker.
“Don’t make me ask stupid questions. Talk.”
Her cover story was useless. The renegades knew too much. “We were working with Sumadan scientists.” Her words spilled out in a gush. “The Immersion Chamber was designed to purge human bodies of chaos energy, to stop cadverism. It was working, until… you.”
“Seekers working with chaos energy?” Morgenheth growled.
“Don’t get upset,” she said, managing not to swallow. “Our job is combating chaos energy. And those farmers we released back to their villages before we capt—uh, found you? All of them tested clear of chaos. The experiment worked!”
Morgenheth sneered. “Yes, it was a complete success, Saarg.” He stepped forward. “If it worked so well, what are we all doing in Sumad, Saarg? What happened?”
She took a step back from the large man. “I have no idea. I hadn’t been there for weeks.” She paused to lick her lips. “Whatever it was, drew the runes and saved your lives. With all the evil that happened down there, you can’t blame us for thinking you were infected.”
Morgenheth sighed, his shoulders slumping. “It pulled us out of our pods so we wouldn’t suffocate like the rest, Saarg. It was gone by the time we woke up. We got out of Polis Armer before you Seekers came for us, hoping we’d find answers here. We haven’t.”
She took a breath, forcing her voice to steady. “You were unjustly treated, Morgenheth. And on behalf of Armer Stone Chapterhouse, I apologize for mistaking your infection. It happens, sometimes.” Although not on inter-polis infected hunts, it didn’t. “It’s a mistake I will gladly correct when I return to Armer.”
Morgenheth shook his head. “I’d like to believe you, Saarg. I’d like to let you
