Nascent Decay (The Goddess of Decay Book 1) (9 page)

“Yes, I have. I am done. I am not going through anymore,” she said softly.

The floor beneath her lifted her up, forming a table beneath her. Tendrils forced her arms behind her back and bound her hands and legs. She tried to scream and struggle, but a tendril wrapped itself around her head, over her mouth, gagging her. More restraints wrapped around her arms, binding her tightly. The door swirled open and she was carried from the Chamber, down a series of hallways, and into a yet another small white room.

It was egg shaped as well, with a soft, soothing light. There was a chair and a lounge in the room along with a Siirocian woman. It looked suspiciously like a psychiatrist’s office. The Siirocian was wearing a gray sash over a form fitting white dress as well as a white veil over her face. Her eyes had round, black pupils surrounded by dull brown, and her skin was covered with rough, green scales. They looked abrasive to the touch. The palms of her hand were a pale white and her fingers were tipped with black claw-like nails.

“That is unnecessary,” the Siirocian said. “Release her.” The restraints disappeared, and the table vanished into the floor. “You may call me Tecra. Please, have a seat,” she said motioning to the lounge. Rhylie took a seat on the couch, watching her warily.

“I am…Gota,” she said cautiously.

“I know all about you,” Tecra said. “I was there the night you were awakened from cryostasis. You can be very dangerous. My colleagues would think I am insane for having this session with you unrestrained.”

“They may be right,” Rhylie said softly.

“Be that as it may, I expect no honesty or progress from a patient that is bound,” said Tecra. “I’ve even had them temporarily disable your collar. Fortunately for you, violence against fabrications is not a crime, since you didn’t technically murder anyone.” Rhylie simply shrugged.

“They weren’t real,” she said numbly. She really didn’t understand why she was here, or what this was about. She really didn’t care anymore.

“You look a mess, you poor child. The Chamber could have cleaned you up a bit before it brought you here,” Tecra said, wrinkling her nose. The veil swayed on her face. “I understand you just had a traumatic experience?”

“I…killed my husband and children,” she said, looking down.

“And how did that make you feel?” Tecra asked.

“I-” she started but changed her mind. “They weren’t real.”

“But they were real,” Tecra said. “They loved you. You were everything to them. Why, they would not even have existed had you not brought them to life.”

“You just said so yourself, that it wasn’t a crime. They only existed because I fabricated them,” Rhylie said.

“That is the power of the Chamber. You can make anything you wish become real,” Tecra said. “We should all be so fortunate.” Rhylie shook her head.

“Everything in the Chamber is fake, none of it matters,” she said. “Even me, now. Especially me.” She buried her head in her hands. Her headache was coming back again.

“You are real. You are sitting here in front of me,” Tecra responded. A forked tongue slid from between her lips as though sensing the air. “I can taste you from here.” Rhylie raised her head and narrowed her eyes, giving Tecra a dirty look. The thought made her uncomfortable.

“How do I know you’re real? If you’re not real, then none of this is real. If you’re trapped in a dream forever, do you become a part of it, or does it become a part of you? Does it become real, or do you just vanish into it?” Rhylie asked, her voice quavering wildly as she spoke. “I don’t know anymore. I don’t know.” She tried to run her fingers through her hair, but it was a tangled mess.

“I see,” said Tecra. “Some individuals have a more difficult time than others acclimating to the Chamber. Everyone adjusts, sooner or later. You’ll see.”

“I don’t want to adjust,” Rhylie said with a staccato emphasis. She began to fidget impatiently. She was tired of talking about it.

“I was warned you would be stubborn. Emotional. Headstrong. I believe these are the reasons humans are so violent. Your inability to restrain yourselves,” Tecra said. “That is what leads you to commit violent acts of jealousy, greed, anger, fear…these emotions rule you. They control you and hold you back from evolving as a culture and civilization.”

“I don’t know how to stop,” said Rhylie. Maybe they were right about humans. Rhylie had always thought herself to be a good person, but not anymore. She didn’t know what she was now. Maybe she really was the monster they made her out to be.

“You’ll have to learn to appreciate the opportunities you have been given here, Gota,” Tecra said. “Unfortunately, I don’t think the Masters will look kindly upon your most recent transgression. I know Vorcia is very upset with you.” Her voice had become clinical and calculating. Rhylie flinched, trying to shrink away from it.

“I’ve failed her,” Rhylie said. “After all she has done for me…I’ve failed her.”

“We all fall short of her Majesty, Gota. That is nothing to be ashamed of,” Tecra said. “But what you have done will not present you in a positive light.”

“I know. I can’t take it back,” she said.

“Would you if you could?” Tecra asked doubtfully.

“Yes,” said Rhylie. “Every bit of it.”

“I think you’re just saying that, hoping that we will set you free, so you can continue to do the same thing over and over again,” Tecra said flatly. Rhylie began to cry.

“I wouldn’t…I wouldn’t,” she said.

“Humans lie a lot, don’t they?” Tecra asked coldly. “You are so deceitful by your very nature that you don’t even realize when you are being dishonest with yourself.”

“I’m not lying,” Rhylie pleaded desperately. “I’m not.”

“I don’t believe you, Gota,” Tecra said. “I am more inclined to believe that you cannot wait to murder again. Some races are simply like that, and cannot be changed through any amount of psychotherapy.” Rhylie closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. “I am going to recommend to Vorcia that the Extinction Decree must be carried out. It is my professional opinion that humans will never be able to adjust to a properly civilized society, and we will never be able to keep them enslaved without a revolt.” Rhylie’s eyes snapped back open.

“No!” she wailed.

“I don’t believe I have a choice,” Tecra said, standing up. “Humans are far too dangerous to be allowed exist.” Rhylie tried to speak, but sobs drowned out the words. “You cannot even accept your fate with dignity. Riddai was correct, we should have destroyed your cryostasis pod when we found it. Your entire race should be treated as an abomination.”

The words came out like a curse, a prophecy, a declaration. Anger roared within Rhylie like a freshly stoked fire, all of the emotional scars of recent events tearing open like freshly scabbed wounds.

Screeching wordlessly, she flung herself at Tecra. Rhylie’s momentum carried both of them to the floor, and Rhylie wrestled her way atop the Siirocian.

Tecra grabbed at Rhylie’s wrists in vain, twisting them and clawing at her. They struggled on the floor until Rhylie finally got her hands around Tecra’s throat. She began squeezing as she stared into Tecra’s eyes, digging her thumbs into the rugged scales covering her windpipe. Tecra clawed at Rhylie’s face desperately, leaving swathes of bloody welts and scratches. Rhylie just closed her eyes and squeezed harder as Tecra continued to thrash wildly beneath her, struggling to live.

The door swirled open, and two guards entered the room, after Rhylie had already crushed Tecra’s throat with her bare hands. They hit her with the shock sticks and she went limp in response. They each grabbed an ankle and dragged her back to the Chamber face down, flinging her inside roughly. She landed in a crumpled position on the floor, twisted up like a forgotten doll. The door swirled shut and she was left alone, unable to move.

It was dark inside the apartment, the lights were dimmed completely and the sky outside the bay window was a starless void. It was as though the apartment itself existed within its own empty, inky black bubble. Rhylie had kept it like that since she had been brought back and thrown inside. She’d only moved as much as she needed to when she regained motor control. Ryan and the children still lay on the floor with her, a scattering of broken toys, a euphemism for life within the Chamber. Everything that Rhylie had ever desired, and dreamed of, lay dead and vacant on the floor.

The world around her was washed gray, colorless, which lent a stark contrast to the morbid details of the things she had done. There was no turning back. They would never let her leave now, she knew. There was nothing left but to accept her fate, and live out her sentence.

“The Masters wish to speak with you, Gota,” the Chamber said. It was the first time it had spoken since she had been brought back. It did little to shatter the silent melancholy that hung over her like a shroud. “Please stand and place your hands behind your back.” She complied willingly, pushing herself up from the floor without a response. She was beyond struggling, beyond caring.
What have I become?
she wondered disconnectedly. It was almost as if she were trapped inside a puppet’s body, pulling the strings from deep within herself. A table formed beneath her, binding her wrists, upper arms, thighs and ankles.

She was taken through the maze of industrial corridors and paraded down the grand hall again, still covered in dried blood and filth, and into the enormous room with the five podiums. The view overhead didn’t seem nearly as amazing as it had the first time she had stared up at it. Where the buildings had once seemed to frame the great nebula, they now seemed to restrain it, holding it in bondage; where it had once seemed delicate and gossamer, it was now faded and dull. Dying.
It used to soar freely
, she thought vacantly.
But now they hold it in chains, so they can wonder upon its beauty
. The Masters looked down on her in silence for a long moment before one of them finally spoke. It was Vorcia.

“In light of recent events, the Masters have decided that humans are unfit to exist in our peaceful, civilized society,” she said. “You have exhibited some of the most abhorrent behaviors we believe we have ever witnessed.” She paused, regarding Rhylie coldly with her unblinking eyes. “We have given you every chance to prove that we were wrong, that humans deserve to exist in our modern society, and you have failed to do so in every opportunity provided. But we are a better society than we were the last time an Extinction Decree was issued, a better people. We will not execute you, Gota. But we will not ever allow you to corrupt our society with your savage and barbaric tendencies. You are to be confined to the Chamber, in solitude, for the rest of your natural existence.”

The reality of the judgment hit home hard, and suddenly. Rhylie screamed and a fat tendril from the table flooded her mouth, forcing her jaws to spread wide, clogging her throat. She could feel it squirming as it filled the back of her mouth, gagging and choking her. She panicked, her eyes widened as she thrashed against her restraints, but they only wrapped tighter, holding her more securely. Her nostrils flared as she struggled to breathe. There was nothing else she could do.

Vorcia signaled to the guards and Rhylie was carried away, escorted back through the crowded hall. They didn’t even bother to guard her. She was spit upon and hit with things she hoped were just uneaten food. The crowd in the grand hall jeered and mocked her in dozens of languages. Some tried to grope her as she passed, but the table would not be stopped. She was thankful she was clothed this time. She closed her eyes when she felt something greasy hit her face. The gag in her mouth forced a flood of vomit from her nose, strangling her and making it difficult for her to breathe.

Eventually she was carried away from the crowded hall, back through the dimly lit tunnels, and returned to the Chamber. It was exactly as she had left it. Ryan and the children still lay on the floor, staring lifelessly up at the ceiling. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to shut out the macabre scene before her.

“Make them go away,” she said, imagining her parent’s compartment empty and clean. When she opened her eyes, Ryan and the children were gone. She walked across the room and sat down on the couch. “Where is my cat?”

“Somewhere safe,” the Chamber responded. “I cannot allow you to harm it.”

“That’s bullshit,” she said angrily. “I want my cat.”

“Language, Gota,” the Chamber said.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. Nothing does,” she said.

“I know,” replied the Chamber. It almost seemed somber.

Rhylie lay down on the couch, staring at the wall. She said nothing for a long time.

“Would you like something to eat?” the Chamber asked.

“No,” she said numbly.

“Would you like me to fabricate a new environment? Perhaps this is not a good place for you to be right now, Gota,” the Chamber said.

“No,” she said again.

“Is there anything I can do for you?” the Chamber asked.

“Bring my family back.”

“I cannot do that, Gota.”

“Then just shut the fuck up.”

Rhylie was standing at the bay window that looked out over the plains of Mars towards Olympus Mons when she noticed something peculiar. The swirls of dust that sometimes chased each other over the red rock fields had frozen in place. She tapped on the glass, unconsciously, as though she expected it to jar it into working again. There was oddly no sound as she rapped her fingertip on the windowpane.

“Chamber?” she asked tentatively. There was no response. Something was wrong. She heard the door swirl open behind her, and she turned quickly. She expected to see the guards, or maybe Vorcia. It was the black figure again. Her mouth dropped open.

The figure took two steps toward her, the slender black blade appearing in its hand as though it had grown from its palm. She stepped towards it, and fell to her knees, her arms at her side. She looked up at the figure, with wide, imploring eyes. This was all she wanted now.

“Yes, please,” she said simply. The figure halted, and cocked its head to the side inquisitively, as though regarding her. She could see no eyes or mouth. No nostrils. The slight heaving of its shoulders were the only indication that it was alive and breathing. It was a slender figure, but she couldn’t tell how muscular it might be. All she knew was the assassin’s blade was sharp, and real.