Nascent Decay (The Goddess of Decay Book 1) (21 page)

“I heard about what you went through after I was taken,” she said softly. The smiles fled Ian and Mason’s faces, replaced by looks of forlorn regret. “I’m sorry…I don’t know what to say.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Rhylie,” said Sergeant Bryson. “None of it was.” She wished she could believe him.

“Some of it is,” she said with reserve. “You don’t know. Nobody does.” Mason shifted uncomfortably, looking around the apartment she had been given. Ian placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Whatever you went through, has made you stronger,” he said in his Titanian accent. “Never forget that.” She gave him a halfhearted smile. His hand was heavy and strong on her shoulder. It felt good, reassuring. Titanians were well-known for their never-say-die attitude.

“I’m just glad you all made it out of there alive,” she said. “If they had captured you…you don’t want to know. You don’t.” Her voice grew thick as she spoke, and Ian gave her shoulder a firm squeeze. If he had heard just a few of the rumors about her, it proved to her that he feared nothing.

“That’s what bothered me about it, Rhylie,” Sergeant Bryson said. “We watched them capture your pod and retreat. They never even boarded our ship. They just wiped our audio and video logs and took off.” Rhylie quirked the corner of her lip downward. She wasn’t surprised.

“They only needed one of us,” she said. “If they had boarded, then some of us may have died…or worse.” They looked at her funny.

“What’s worse than dying?” Ian asked slowly. He took his hand from her shoulder and she instantly regretted saying it.

“You really don’t want to know,” she said. “You really don’t.” Ian frowned, his eyes questioning her.
It would be better for him to leave those questions unanswered
, Rhylie thought.

“I’ll take your word for it,” he said uncertainly. Rhylie looked back to Sergeant Bryson.

“You really didn’t know what was going to happen, Sergeant, what they wanted, or what they would do to us,” she said. He shook his head.

“I’m not your Sergeant anymore, Rhylie. You can call me John if you want. But I wrapped you up with a bow and handed you right to them,” he said. “If you need anything from me, just ask.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind, John,” she said.

*

Rhylie knew she was being watched when it wasn’t but a few moments after her old crew left that the door slid open again, and three members of the Council entered her quarters; Marcus was followed by two that she did not know. One was a tall, athletic black woman. The other was a short, pudgy, balding white guy. They all three seemed to peer down their noses in a disdainfully detached fashion at her as she lounged on the couch. She didn’t bother sitting up for them. She was already tired of putting on airs for everyone.

“We have much to discuss, Miss Underhill,” Marcus began without introductions or fanfare. Rhylie knew there wouldn’t be any sort of actual discussion. “We’ve decided to accept Vorcia’s offer of peace.” She simply shrugged in response and rolled her eyes.

“I wouldn’t put all my money in one stock,” she said, something she’d heard from her father many times.

“We didn’t think you would like it. There are…other stipulations that you may like even less.” Rhylie abruptly sat up on the couch.

“Like what?” she asked.

“Keep in mind,” the tall black woman said. “That if the conditions are met, humanity will be allowed to survive and flourish as a race. We will be represented on the Galactic Council, and even have our own small section of the galaxy to control and populate.”

“What conditions?” Rhylie asked uneasily.

“Vorcia wants us to hand you over to the Siirocians at the treaty ceremony,” the fat little man blurted out. Marcus rolled his eyes.

The horror hit home to Rhylie hard, and the hatred and fear inside her mixed, creating a combustion of emotions that both inflamed and numbed her. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes widened in shock. She wouldn’t go back. Ever. She couldn’t.

“We’ve had discussions about tact, Connor,” Marcus said.

“We had to tell her sooner or later,” Connor said. “It’s not like she has a choice.” The callous words snapped Rhylie out of her trance. She narrowed her eyes and stood up.

“I always have a choice,” she said angrily. This time there was no quelling the rage burning inside her. The flames had been fanned too high.

“Now Private Underhill,” began the woman. Rhylie cut her off.

“My name is Rhylie.”

“Rhylie, please,” said the woman. “Listen to us.”

“Don’t beg her Adanna,” said Connor. “That’s exactly what she wants.” The woman cut him a sharp look. Rhylie teetered on the edge of madness. It was all she could do to not walk across the room and separate his head from his spine.

“You need to get out,” Rhylie said as she glowered at Connor.

“You don’t speak to me like that, Priv-” he managed to squeak out. Before he could finish, she was across the room and towering over him.

She simply reached out and placed her hand upon his chest; in an instant, it was white hot, searing into his skin. She pressed slightly and he howled wordlessly in response as he stumbled backwards, falling to the floor. He scrambled for the door, and it slid open as he fell through it, squealing like a dying pig. It closed behind him and there was deafening silence. Adanna and Marcus stared at her wide eyed, their mouths hanging open.
So much for décor
, she thought. She turned her anger on them.

“Do either of you have any orders you’d like to give me?” she asked, her voice dripping with acidic intent. She dropped her right hand to her side, the white hot glow and radiant heat subsiding. Her fingers and thumbs began to elongate into sharp, thin blades. “They’re thinner than paper and stronger than titanium,” she said. Her voice suddenly took on a sultry and seductive tone. She could still be flirty when she wanted to. “And they cut through bone like it’s nothing.” She flicked her fingers, the blades clattering together softly. She cocked her head to the side as she stared at them for effect. Adanna was the first to regain her composure. Her response was almost disarming, but she had been through it all before with Vorcia.
Vorcia would eat her alive
, Rhylie thought.
And there might be more truth to that than I realize
.

“Rhylie…more lives than yours depend upon this treaty,” Adanna said. “The good of the many outweigh the needs of the few.”
When it’s convenient
, Rhylie thought.
Only when it’s convenient
. Rhylie straightened her head and clenched her jaw.

“I know more about what’s at stake than you do,” she said. “And I know more than you do about the sacrifices that have been made…that still need to be made.” She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t know what I’ve gone through, what I’ve seen…or what I’ve done. You don’t know what I’m truly capable of.” The finger blades began to droop as though melting. They dribbled to the floor in a series of long strands that began feeding into a small puddle. She kept her eyes on Marcus and Adanna as her arm continued to drip onto the floor.

The dull gray pool quivered and began sending tendrils wriggling out across the floor towards Adanna and Marcus, like dozens of hungry worms. They began to branch out, spreading themselves across the luxurious carpet, feeling their way towards them as though they were blind.

Adanna and Marcus took a step back from the tiny, wriggling runners. Rhylie smiled with a cruel delight in spite of herself. She was tired of taking orders from beings that were…beneath her in so many ways. The tendrils recoiled, forming a hand again. That was when Rhylie realized her skin was gray again. Fuck it. She was sick of fighting it. Let the world see her for what she really was now.

Marcus had a horrified look on his face, but Adanna looked at her with sorrowful eyes. That made Rhylie even angrier. She would not be pitied by these people, no matter how important they were. She would not be felt sorry for. She was a Goddess now, and she would make them worship her if she so desired.

“I think you should both leave,” she said coldly to them. “We are done talking.” She needed time to think. She had never once even considered that Vorcia might want her back.
What would Issar say
? Before she could ask about him, Adanna spoke.

“This is more than anyone should have to bear, Rhylie,” Adanna said sadly.

“I’ve already gone through more than anyone should have to bear,” Rhylie shot back venomously.

“We’ll give you time to think about it. We should go check on Connor” she said as she placed her hand on Marcus’s arm. He nodded his head in response, and they left through the door. Rhylie noticed a dozen troops in the corridor as it slid shut behind them.

She crossed the room and sat down on the couch, waiting to see what would happen next.

They hadn’t been gone but a few moments when the doors reopened and troops began to enter, suited from head to toe in suppression gear. Rhylie sighed wearily. She didn’t want to have to do this the hard way.

“None of those are going to work on me,” she announced, her skin sliding up to cover her head, as she became one with the atomorphic tech. The soldiers began assembling into a defensive formation, the first row kneeling, the second crouched behind them, and a third row standing behind the first two. The far side of the room continued to fill as Rhylie watched sadly. “It doesn’t have to be like this.”

“You are to be taken under control for assault on a Council Member, please turn around and place your hands behind your back,” one of the soldiers said from behind his full face visor. The voice came out digitally synthesized. Rhylie began laughing uncontrollably.

“Do you think you have a set of restraints that can even hold me?” she asked as she stood up from the couch. “Do you think that could even hurt me with your little toys?” She hoped that the Council members were watching from somewhere. “Would you mind if I told you a story?”

“Turn around and place your hands behind your back,” came the reply.
Which one was it?
She wanted him. She didn’t like his tone.

“In the beginning, there was the decay,” she began as she took a step towards them. They stiffened as a unit. Good, she had their attention. “And though it was formless and hollow, it was eternal, and more everlasting than even the universe itself.” She took another step towards them.

“Turn around and place your hands behind your back!” came the order again. He was somewhere in the middle of the room of course, but she couldn’t tell which row. She took another step toward them. She could see a few of their guns beginning to waver unsteadily.

“For the decay touches everything, everything that exists. It is the most obstinate of cycles, the cycle of harvest,” she said softly. The room was deathly quiet, and there was a slight rustle of movement among the troops. She took another step towards them. It felt as though her body were a puppet, walking on strings, and she was the master, controlling her movements.

“Turn around and submit yourself,” the order came one more time.
Was he in the back row or the middle?
She couldn’t quite tell.

“I fear your briefings have been woefully inadequate, boys.” She took yet another step towards them. She could almost feel them tense up as a group. The feeling of power and authority she had over them was exhilarating. But she was a benevolent Goddess. “I’ll give you the chance to leave peacefully. If you do not, you
will
die.” She took another step towards them.

“You will not be told again to submit,” said the soldier.
He must be the one in charge
, she thought. She could almost tell which one it was. She spread her arms wide and took another small step towards them, buying time until she could figure out which one he was.

She almost felt like someone else. Something else. She had lost control for so long that she didn’t know what to do with it now that she had it back. The rush was exhilarating, intoxicating. She had been enchained until she had forgotten what it truly meant to live, and not just exist.

“And you will not be told again to leave,” she responded, taking another step towards them. “I am through with being told what to do.” She was almost halfway across the room now.

“You have been fairly warned-” the soldier started to say. It was one of those in the middle row, to her left. She lashed her arm across the room and wrapped it around his throat. He dropped his gun and put his hands up to the tendril as it dragged him, kicking and screaming, out of the formation. She pulled him across the floor as he screamed.

“Open fire! Open fire! OPEN FIRE!” he shouted as he panicked and struggled in her grasp. It turned out to be the worst orders he’d ever given in his life. She lifted him up, holding him between her and several dozen soldiers as they opened fire. Projectiles tore through him, ripping up his body and everything around them and behind them.
Maybe we are brutal enough to fight this war
, she thought. His body convulsed with spasms as the assault mutilated him, spraying Rhylie with shreds of flesh and blood. Those that struck Rhylie were harmlessly absorbed by her skin. When the gunfire ceased, she tos
sed what was left of his limp, leaking body to the ki
tchen. She took another step towards the formation and the group broke rank and file with rampant panic.

Over half of them tried to make a run for it, and some of them of them actually managed to make it through the door before they began to pile up against the wall, fighting desperately to get through it. Some were trampled by the mob, crushed underneath the feet of those behind them. She almost laughed. It was comical in a way. The ones that did stay kept their trembling weapons trained on her.

“I didn’t want to do this,” she said. She almost felt sorry for them. They were just following orders, pawns at play in a larger game, much as she had been. She took another step towards them. The remaining soldiers opened fire on her again, the projectiles barely causing ripples across her skin as they hit her.

She took another step towards them. Several more threw down their weapons and ran, scrambling over the bodies on the floor and out the door. There were fewer than ten left now. She raised her arms in front of her, her fingers reaching out in long, thick fibers that sought out the throats of each remaining soldier. A handful of them tried to run at the sight of the tendrils, but it was too late for that, she decided. She snatched them up too.