A Citadel of Captives Read online

  “They may know how to kill the Perfects,” Derek replied. “And how to stop the mass production. We can focus on those two things, then render Ta’Zan defenseless.”

  “I doubt he’ll ever be defenseless,” Lucas muttered. “He’s too smart and powerful.”

  “On his own? Without his Perfects and Faulties blindly following him?” Derek replied.

  Lucas thought about it for a few moments, then nodded. “Fair enough. But we don’t know how he’s doing certain things, not only in the biotech field, but also where infrastructure and energy are concerned. We’re in the dark here. So we should keep that in mind going forward, in order to avoid unpleasant surprises.”

  The cave door opened with its loud, familiar clang. I instantly recognized the dark silhouette against the yellowish light from the hallway. Isda came in, pushing the food cart. She sported a bruised eye and a split lip—those were new.

  “Isda, what happened to you?” I asked, showing genuine concern. Talking about Ta’Zan wasn’t a good conversation, given the way she looked. She’d taken quite the beating, and I was already suspecting that Abaddon might’ve had a hand in it.

  She gave us all a weak smile as she brought the cart in front of Derek’s glass box. We all stood, careful and slow in our movements so as not to startle her in any way. I wanted her to feel safe and comfortable here, even though we were the prisoners. Establishing a rapport with her had taken the top spot on my priority list.

  “Isda, talk to me, sweetheart. What happened?” I asked again, determined to get a response.

  She served Derek’s pitcher of fresh blood through the liquid-like opening of the glass box, then looked at me and let out a tired sigh. “Nothing for you to worry about, Sofia,” she said.

  “How can I not worry? You came in here with a busted lip and a black eye, Isda! Believe it or not, we don’t like violence, especially against creatures as kind and gentle as yourself,” I replied. Something flickered in her eyes. I was ready to guess that I’d touched a sensitive point. “Please, tell me what happened. Who hurt you? Was it Ta’Zan?”

  Her eyes grew wide. She shook her head vehemently. “No. No. Father would never hit me!”

  That told me something new about Ta’Zan, and also about their relationship. The absence of physical violence helped explain why Isda was so devoted to her creator, even though he treated her coldly.

  “Then who? Abaddon?” I asked.

  She poured me a pitcher of fresh blood, then handed it over through the glass, which reacted to her touch, creating an opening for her hand to pass through. I never got tired of watching it, and I looked forward to better understanding this strange mixture of magic and technology. It was nothing like what we’d accomplished so far.

  Isda nodded, giving me a sad look.

  “He has a bad temper,” she whispered. “But it’s not his fault. Even though he’s a Perfect, his psychology is a bit… faulty,” she added, the corner of her mouth twitching.

  “What do you mean?” I said, then gave her a thankful nod as I retrieved my blood pitcher, and she moved on to Xavier’s glass box.

  “Well, Father’s Perfects are the result of numerous experiments,” Isda explained. “Some aren’t perfect per se, like in Abaddon’s case, but their physical capabilities are extraordinary. Such abilities trump his short fuse, and so Father decided to let him live. He’s just not allowed out in the world yet. He’s undergoing additional educational sessions.”

  “Okay, so basically, Abaddon is extremely capable but mentally unstable, right?” Claudia asked, watching Isda’s hand movements as she served Xavier and Vivienne their blood pitchers.

  Isda nodded. “Yes. Abaddon is extremely powerful. In the Draenir’s old language, Abaddon means ‘place of great destruction.’ And that is something that certainly describes him well, albeit not as a physical place, but as a living creature.”

  “Why did he hit you, Isda?” I asked, frowning.

  Deep down, I was already looking forward to ripping his throat out. Seeing what he’d done to Isda, however, made the fire burn even hotter inside me.

  “I ran into him earlier,” Isda said. “He was angry because Father kicked him out of here. He said, ‘How is it that you, a filthy Faulty, get to be there, and not me?!’ So, I told him the truth. I’m here because it’s my duty to look after you and your people. His duty is to not be in here. Needless to say, he didn’t like my response.”

  “Yeah, that’s pretty much obvious,” I replied, crossing my arms. “Have you told Ta’Zan about this?”

  She chuckled softly. “Oh, no. I wouldn’t dare trouble him with such trivialities.”

  “Your wellbeing is considered trivial?” Claudia inquired, raising an eyebrow. “Isda, you’re not an inferior animal. You’re a living creature with extraordinary cognitive abilities. You have nothing but kindness and patience in you. How can you put yourself down like that?”

  Isda seemed confused, her gaze darting between Claudia and me. I had to give Claudia credit—she knew how to play the cards we had, and she’d jumped right into the middle of it with great dexterity and grace. Her past experiences certainly played a part in her ability to manipulate people.

  “What do you mean?” Isda asked.

  “You deserve respect and care, Isda, like all of us,” I replied. “That’s what Claudia is trying to say. Why should you be treated as a second-class citizen? Because your physical appearance and your abilities aren’t like the Perfects’? Is that it?”

  She nodded slowly.

  “That’s ridiculous.” Claudia sighed. “Where we come from, people are treated equally and with nothing but respect. We love and support each other, even though some of us are stronger than others. It’s what makes our world so wonderful. Tolerance, Isda. Has Ta’Zan taught you nothing about it?”

  That was a rhetorical question, in my opinion, but Isda didn’t take it as such. She was sweet and innocent enough to actually answer. “No, Claudia. I was taught that my sole duty in this world is to serve him and the Perfects. I am expendable.”

  Claudia and I looked at each other, then at the rest of our crew. There was an overall feeling of heartbreaking pity lingering—all of it aimed at Isda. A few moments passed in silence as she continued to serve our blood and food, one glass box at a time. Claudia spoke up when Isda reached her.

  “That’s just so… so sad and unfair, Isda,” she said gently. “Why should you be treated like this? Why wouldn’t your feelings or wellbeing matter?”

  Isda shrugged. “It’s how we were taught.”

  “And has it never occurred to you that it might be wrong?” I retorted.

  She shrugged again, then moved on to Corrine’s glass box.

  “Isda, life is a very precious thing to have,” Corrine chimed in. “It doesn’t matter what size you are, what you can do, or where you’re from. Your soul is priceless. Your time in this world is valuable, and no one can ever tell you otherwise.”

  Isda seemed to think about what we were trying to get across to her, but she didn’t express any of her own thoughts. I could tell, however, that we’d planted one of the first seeds in her head. It was time to work on that.

  “What good is life if you can’t make it as free and beautiful as you wish?” I replied. “What good is it to breathe, if we cannot explore and enjoy everything that this world has to give us, huh?”

  “I don’t know, Sofia,” Isda said, her tone suddenly flat. “I’ve never thought about it.”

  “Well, you should,” Derek cut in. “Because Ta’Zan clearly doesn’t give a damn about you, or about whether you live or die.”

  That hit her hard. She scowled at him. It was the first time we were seeing this side of her, and I knew what she was experiencing. I’d seen it in Derek and even Lucas, back in the early days. She’d been accustomed to this kind of life, and she’d been taught that it was the only way for her to be, even though it wasn’t. Isda was preparing to go on the defensive. She was ready to defend her maker, even
though, deep down, she was already beginning to see things from a different perspective.

  “That’s a lie,” Isda said. “Father loves me. He loves all of us.”

  “Then why don’t you tell him about what Abaddon did to you?” Derek said. “If Ta’Zan loves you, like you say, he’d be furious if someone hurt you. Even if that someone is another one of his… children.”

  “How do you know?” Isda replied, pursing her lips.

  “Because that’s what love is like,” I said, following Derek’s lead. “When you love someone, you do your damn best to keep them safe, to make sure they’re free and happy. Because seeing them smile is what gets you out of bed in the morning. Love is selfless like that. You’ll do anything to make your loved one happy.”

  “I don’t know what Ta’Zan has told you about love, Isda, but it’s not what you think it is,” Lucas interjected. “Love made me change my ways. I was one of the worst creatures to ever live. I was selfish, ruthless, and envious of everyone who’d found love, who’d encountered happiness in their lives. Then I, too, found someone to love. And, Isda, I will break anyone and anything that tries to hurt those I hold dear. Especially my daughter. Do you understand that?”

  Isda blinked several times, then nodded. “You have a daughter?”

  “Yes. I have a son of my own and an adopted daughter whom I love like my own, to be precise,” Lucas replied, then gave Marion a warm smile. “When Marion and Avril came into my life… everything changed, Isda.”

  “So, what should I do, then?” Isda asked.

  That was the question we’d sort of been waiting for. She was actually asking us for help.

  It was essential that we had her play into this of her own accord. We needed her to see for herself that she wasn’t as important to Ta’Zan as she’d been raised to believe. We needed her to understand that what Ta’Zan professed as love toward her and her siblings wasn’t that, at all. The Faulties were a necessary bunch of animals to him—service creatures he could do with as he pleased.

  I didn’t want to fall prey to a sense of false hope, but I had every intention of seeing this through. I was determined to do and say anything, until doubt festered in Isda’s mind. Until we got her on our side.

  Once we convinced one of the Faulties, the others would likely follow. We didn’t need many. Just enough to sabotage this whole project from the inside. Just enough to get us closer to freedom and to destroying Ta’Zan and his Perfects. The entire universe depended on it.

  Derek

  “You should tell Ta’Zan about what happened,” I said. “He needs to know.”

  “He said I shouldn’t disturb him for little things,” Isda replied.

  “Do you really think that your wellbeing is that unimportant?” I asked.

  She hesitated. I knew that she was most likely afraid to disturb him, in general. Ta’Zan didn’t come across as a physically violent creature, but he could certainly cause plenty of torment just with his words. He’d done it to me already. So, in a way, I understood why Isda was wary. Nevertheless, we needed her on our side.

  “Listen, we have nothing to win in this situation,” I added. “I understand now that we don’t stand a chance against the Perfects. I’ve seen it with my own eyes. I have zero interest in putting you or any of your siblings in an uncomfortable situation. It just isn’t fair for you to see your life devalued like this, simply because you’re not a Perfect.”

  “Also, you shouldn’t underestimate Ta’Zan, Isda,” Sofia chimed in. “If you tell him about what Abaddon did to you, he might actually do something to stop him from hurting you again.”

  Isda sighed. “I suppose. I’ll try. Thank you for your concern,” she replied gently, then smiled. “I truly appreciate it.”

  “Don’t mention it,” Sofia replied. “We just want you to be happy and healthy, Isda. You’ve done us no harm; therefore, we mean you no harm.”

  “Speaking of which,” Claudia said. “How much longer do you think Ta’Zan will keep us in these glass boxes? I’m going a little stir-crazy in here.”

  Isda shrugged. “I don’t know. And it’s not my place to know.”

  “Can’t you try to find out, at least?” I asked. “We have no intention of doing anything crazy or stupid, and I suppose Ta’Zan would take the necessary precautions to stop us from escaping, for example. It’s just that we don’t belong in these boxes. We can’t live like this for much longer. If Ta’Zan wants to use our genes for his projects, that’s fine. It’s not like we can stop him. But we deserve more space, at this point.”

  “Please, Isda, just ask him,” Sofia added.

  Isda seemed fearful. Once more, her reluctance to bring something up to Ta’Zan was more than telling. She feared him well beyond the possibility of physical repercussions. There was something about him that kept her from saying anything, in general. I was curious to understand what that was.

  “I don’t know. I hate upsetting my father,” Isda finally replied.

  “How would this upset him?” I asked. “You’re just passing on a polite request from us. You wouldn’t be asking him for yourself. I don’t understand.”

  She smirked. “Clearly, you don’t. You wouldn’t like to see my father when he’s upset, Derek. If you did, you would understand why we all do our best to please him.”

  “Why? Does he get violent?” Claudia replied.

  “No. I told you that already,” Isda said, frowning.

  “Then what is it about Ta’Zan being angry that has you so scared?” I asked, moving closer to the glass as she put the empty dishes and pitchers on the cart’s bottom tray.

  “You wouldn’t understand unless you saw for yourselves,” Isda said. “And that’s not something I would wish upon my worst enemy.”

  A minute passed in awkward silence. Sofia and I looked at each other. Even though we couldn’t say much regarding our plans in Isda’s presence, Sofia had a way of almost reading my mind. I figured decades in my company made it easier for her to guess what I was thinking. She gave me a faint nod, quietly telling me that she was by my side, no matter what I chose to say next.

  “Isda, have you ever wondered if Ta’Zan intends to keep the Faulties once his ideal society is formed?” I asked, deciding to gradually insert what Ta’Zan had said to me into this conversation. “Do you think he’ll let you all live, or cast you out?”

  That stunned her. Her eyes nearly popped out of their orbits. Her lips parted in shock.

  “What are you talking about?” she breathed.

  “During the tour he gave me yesterday, I had a conversation with him, and I was wondering if he’d ever brought it up with you or one of your siblings. To me, he made it clear that he doesn’t yet know what to do with the Faulties… with you, Isda,” I said. “There may be no room for your kind in this new society he’s building. For now, he finds you useful, but in the future, less than perfect Perfects like Abaddon might take your place to provide service to the people. That’s how I’m seeing this unfold, if I’m honest.”

  Isda blinked several times. The rest of my group held their collective breath, waiting for her to react. I’d dropped quite the sudden bomb on her, but it was necessary to shock her out of this comfort zone that she’d sunk into. She needed to be shaken from the very foundation, if she was to even consider the possibility of rebelling against her creator.

  “That can’t be right,” Isda murmured. “Why… No, I don’t think so!”

  She was getting upset. Not that I could blame her. It was time to take that anger and work it to our advantage. Despite her physical prowess as a genetically engineered hybrid, Isda could clearly be manipulated through conversation, with the right triggers.

  “It’s what Ta’Zan said to me,” I replied. “Like I told you, I have nothing to gain from telling you all this. The Perfects already outnumber us. They killed hundreds of our people. We’re stuck here, in these damn boxes. I know we’re not going to win, and I know that Ta’Zan will conquer the entire universe, if he s
ets his mind to it. I just want you to know the truth. I want you to understand how things stand and your true value to your father.”

  Part of me was hoping that most of what I’d just said was a lie. That Ta’Zan could be stopped. That we could save this world and the next. That there was still hope. Looking at Isda, I could see the possibilities, even as she started shaking with a mixture of negative emotions. I’d said something that had finally hit the right spot.

  “We’re just being honest here, Isda,” Sofia added. “We want out of these boxes, and we want you to know that you are valuable, that you are important, no matter what Ta’Zan or Abaddon or anyone else tells you.”

  Isda glowered at Sofia. I’d seen that coming. It was the first stage, and she still had a couple more before she could truly accept what I’d just told her.

  “You’re trying to drive a wedge between my father and me!” Isda spat, her hands balled into fists.

  Sofia, ever the clever girl I’d fallen in love with six decades ago, shrugged. “Why would I do that? What would be the point? It’s not like you can help us with anything, right? You’re afraid to even get us moved somewhere where we can at least be together, and not isolated in these stupid glass boxes.”

  Isda shook her head, then pushed the cart away, heading for the door.

  As soon as she was out, we all breathed a sigh of relief. I sat on the edge of the bed, taking deep breaths and mentally preparing myself for what could come next—I had to be ready to talk my way through or out of anything, including an angered Ta’Zan.

  “Okay, now Isda’s pissed off,” Lucas observed. “I suppose that was part of the plan?”

  “Sort of, yes,” I replied.

  Lucas chuckled nervously. “Good to know you’ve got a handle on this,” he said. “I’m kidding. You’re winging it, aren’t you?”

  “It’s not like we have so many avenues to take here,” I said with a smirk.

  “Whatever comes next, we’ll be ready,” Marion interjected. She’d been mostly quiet, but whenever she spoke up, it was usually to give some sort of comfort or reassurance to Lucas. That nervous chuckle of his made it clear that he needed her words; he was on edge, much like the rest of us.