Too Far Gone, page 21
part #3 of The Jaxon Grey Chronicles Series
And soon the Dotarans and I would be going on that same journey.
Interlogue Three
Ryane’s Doctor
How long Ryane remained a captive on Scynthia, she hadn't the faintest clue. Her days blurred together, distinguished only by the varying forms of torture she was subjected to day after day. Her figure grew slim and emaciated, as she refused to eat the human meat provided to her, and therefore ate very little. Scars and burns covered her body by the afternoons, only to be repaired by the experienced hand of Illoran for the next day's session.
With help from the enhancement serum, Ryane had refused Illoran's aid for as long as she could, but, fatigued as she was and covered with afflictions, she had no choice but to succumb to the physician's will eventually. She had regressed to fainting spells, and during one of these spells the well-intentioned Illoran had commenced the much-needed treatment.
When Ryane awoke on her mat, it took her a few seconds to fully realize where she was, and, strangely, she felt much better than she had of late. It was then that she noticed the intravenous line running from her arm to an elevated bag filled with a murky-gray solution, and several other wires connected to her that projected her vitals on a small computer screen. Impulsively, she began ripping the wires from her body, and finally came to the intravenous. With a sudden jerk, she removed it, spraying a thick stream of blood about the room.
As she worked to free herself from the wires and tubes, Illoran, having been in an adjacent room where he monitored Ryane's vitals, came running in to stop her from doing any more damage. Salama’an is doing a good enough job of that as it is, he thought to himself bitterly as he raced into the room. When he approached his unruly patient, she began berating him with shouts and insults, which, to his best efforts, he ignored.
"Don't touch me," Ryane screamed, taking a swipe at Illoran's webbed hands as he attempted to re-insert the intravenous needle. "Get those things away from me!"
Hitherto, Ryane had been far too weak to protest so vehemently, but now, having regained some of her strength, she backed against the wall, wielding the needle threateningly toward the one responsible for her daily recoveries.
To his credit, Illoran remained calm and unperturbed, trying to think how he would feel if their roles had been reversed, but he was unable to rationalize the young Earth female's behavior. I just don't understand it, he thought to himself. I am only trying to help her. Why doesn't she see that?
Meanwhile, and almost unbeknownst to Ryane, her arm had continued to bleed from where she had ripped out the intravenous, spurting streams of blood as she pumped her arms in front of herself trying to ward off the Scynthian doctor. The warm, viscous liquid dripped down her elbow, covering her sleeping mat in the red, sticky substance. Illoran saw this, and, presently, waited for her to lose consciousness from the blood loss; she would be much less difficult to approach then.
Ryane continued to scream obscenities at the Scynthian doctor, her heart beating rapidly, but she soon began to grow light-headed and the room began to tilt. She paused for a moment, trying to regain her composure, but the blood loss was too much. A moment later, she collapsed in a pool of her own blood. Then Illoran was finally able to resume her treatment.
The next time Ryane awoke, the physician, along with all his equipment, was gone. Ryane was slow to rise, still feeling the aches and pains of her ongoing torment. She was feeling slightly better than the day before, and correctly attributed it to the physician she had so indiscriminately berated earlier for all the crimes done to her by the Scynthians. Surely all that had happened to her was not his fault, and he had helped to abate some of the almost unbearable tortures she experienced, but he was still a Scynthian and was therefore guilty.
Lost in thought, she didn't notice the portal to the room open until the visitor was already through the doorway.
"Hello, my dear," said the skin-crawling voice of the insidious Salama’an, who carried with him a long, slender rod with two metal prongs on its end. "I hope you slept well, for I have a lot in store for you today."
He clicked a button on the rod's handle, and a jolt of blue electricity arced between the two prongs.
Days passed like this; Salama’an tearing her down in the morning and Illoran repairing her in the evening. At first, Ryane continued to refuse Illoran's attempts to aid her, so he commenced to treat her while she slept, filling the room with a gas akin to anesthesia that ensured she remained asleep and docile while he doctored her wounds. It didn't take much work to fix her physical injuries, as the Scynthians had long since perfected the art of medicine and Illoran was well versed in these medical practices. Her mental health was a much trickier puzzle though. One day, she screamed out of nowhere, clutching her chest in pain, yelling for Jaxon, but her chest was fine, though her blood pressure was alarmingly elevated and sweat poured from her body. Sometimes, there is only so much one’s mind and body can take.
Using Ryane's DNA, he had synthesized new pieces of flesh, which, when placed over an afflicted area, adhered to the skin and would begin replacing damaged tissue. The process is somewhat like skin grafting, but rather than moving healthy tissue from one part of the body to another, the new genetically-engineered tissue acts as both bandage and antibiotic, and greatly increases the body’s own natural regenerative properties. The flesh-bandage then assimilates into the skin tissue, and the wound, in most cases, is healed, so long as the infliction is a superficial wound. For deeper, more extensive injuries, the Scynthians have other healing tactics to utilize.
Using these flesh-bandages, Illoran systematically repaired Ryane's body of any scars, burns, cuts, etc. He had even inadvertently mended a scar on Ryane's hip that she had received years ago in a bicycle accident. When all was said and done, he was proud of his work, but still incredibly concerned for the mental well-being of his patient.
If only she would just consent to treatment! he thought, frustrated that he couldn't do more to help her.
Soon, however, Ryane begrudgingly came to trust her Scynthian physician, at least with her medical needs. After realizing that he was, in fact, there to help her heal, and had apparently been attending to her while she slept, she commenced to allow treatment; she didn't have much of a choice, and she would rather she was conscious for the process. It helped that, in all their interactions, Illoran was always very cordial with her, and treated her with dignity and respect. He would even bring her bits of non-meat foods to help supplement her diminished diet, and never failed to continuously apologize for her predicament. Deep down under the fog she was living in, no doubt a defense mechanism due to her circumstances, Illoran's kindness began to shake the cobwebs off long abandoned escape plans.
Illoran's earnest resolve to aid this surprisingly resilient human female was never stronger, especially after Orric, the rebel leader, had informed him of their upcoming plans.
"The Dotarans think they are so clever," said Orric one afternoon, recalling the recent attempt upon the Dotaran refugee camp that had in fact been a trap set just for the Scynthians, "but it is we who will have the final victory!"
"What do you have in mind?" asked Illoran, somewhat reluctant to hear what kind of fresh horrors his superior had planned.
"The Dotarans believe themselves safe and hidden," Orric explained, "and that may be well and true for most of them, but they have forgotten one crucial piece of information."
"And what would that be?" asked Illoran, waiting for Orric to finally divulge his plan.
"We have the male human's journals," Orric replied, "and in it he details that the Dotarans and he will be returning to Mercer to negotiate a peace with the white-furred Tatorans. The Dotaran leadership is sure to be there for such an event, of that we can be reasonably assured. The male human has unwittingly given us all we need to know to cripple the Dotarans once and for all."
Illoran demurred, "How do you know this isn't another one of their deceptions?"
"I don't," Orric replied simply, seemingly assured of his information, "but this time I am taking every precaution. Instead of sending in our valuable soldiers, we will use the expendable humans to do our bidding, alleviating ourselves of unnecessary risk."
Illoran thought about the idea for a second, and, though he found it immoral to use the humans in this capacity, he clearly understood the benefits that Orric described and could hardly object without raising suspicions as to his loyalty. The Scynthians are utilitarian by nature, and will do whatever is required to accomplish their goals.
"What I ask of you," Orric continued, "is for you to accompany the team as their veterinarian."
"You want me to do what?" asked Illoran, fairly discontent at the suggestion. Treating an unruly human was one thing, but descending to savage Tatora was completely outside of his realm of imagination.
"You are our best veterinarian," Orric commended him, "and your talents may be needed on the planet's surface."
Did he not just say that we Scynthians are too valuable to risk? Illoran thought to himself. Now he wants to send me down there! What disrespect is this?
Orric continued uninterrupted, "The defiant Dotarans and the human, Jaxon, have proven to be much more difficult than we originally anticipated, and we cannot allow for this opportunity to slip past us!"
"Then why not simply hit them with a large plasma-blast and be done with it?" asked an agitated Illoran, though he did well to conceal his agitation.
Illoran's suggestion might sound cold and unforgiving, but any reasonable Scynthian would have asked the same question given the circumstances, and with the rebellion that had so recently swept across Scynthia, Illoran did not want to give his Scynthian brethren any reason to look down on him. Not to mention, Illoran was none too thrilled about having to leave the comfort of Scynthia.
"I have instructed Salama’an to use the plasma-blast only as a last resort, if all of our other efforts fail," Orric replied.
"Why only then?" asked Illoran. "Wouldn't a plasma-blast be more affective and definitive? You said it yourself; we do not want them slipping away once again."
"If you must know," said Orric, "we do not yet know where the Dotaran filth are holding our captured brethren. Thuric is among them, and we cannot proceed with our other plans without him. He holds key information to our operations on Tatora, and replacing him now would set us back months, if not years. He is entirely indispensable to our cause."
"He is also your brother," Illoran pointed out, alluding to the fact that Orric actually cared for his blood-relative.
"That is irrelevant," Orric said, quickly dismissing the claim. "If he were not so valuable, his fate would be of little concern, but, unfortunately, that is not the case. In order to be profitable in our endeavors, we need him back on our side."
"So it will be a rescue mission, too, then?" asked Illoran.
Orric paused, realizing he may have divulged too much to this simple veterinarian. "You needn't concern yourself with the attack plans. Salama’an has everything under control. And, after all, you will be remaining on the ship in case your talents are needed."
"Very well," Illoran replied
"I think you'll be pleased to hear that I've assembled quite a force for this venture," said Orric, boasting now. "To fail will be all but inconceivable, especially with this lovely little device in hand." While he spoke, he had pulled a metal ring from his pocket and fingered its edge, admiring the object.
Illoran couldn't help but take the bait. "What is that?" he asked with curious interest.
"A new tool I've had the dissimulation engineers working on," Orric replied proudly. "We've had the technology for ages, but no one thought to down-size it for covert operations! Just think of all the possibilities!"
"That does sound like quite a contraption you have there," said Illoran sincerely. "Would you care to demonstrate?"
"Of course," smiled Orric, as he proceeded to place the metal ring atop his head like a crown. As he removed his hands, a red beam of light shone from the ring, and then the device rose from his head autonomously and hovered there, like a red-glowing halo. The light beam then flashed down his body, and a moment later Orric's figure phased out of sight right before Illoran's eyes. It was incredible, and Illoran was unable to hide his astonishment.
Presently, Orric's figure phased into view again, and the device sunk back onto his head.
"Marvelous, isn't it?" he asked, removing the metal ring from his head and giving it to Illoran for a closer inspection.
"Incredible," Illoran agreed, and a plan was already formulating inside his mind. "It works for all light-wave frequencies?" he asked.
"Unfortunately, it does have its limitations," Orric admitted, "but it far exceeds anything else we have for covert operations. It won't be long before the engineers have created one that makes an individual completely undetectable, even to infrared and thermal images."
Illoran finished examining the cloaking ring, and then handed it back to Orric, who placed it safely within the pocket of his robe.
"So," said Orric, getting back on topic, "I am sure I can count on you to accompany Salama’an to the planet. I would be remiss if I neglected to include you in this endeavor."
In truth, Orric was merely placating Illoran, attempting to manipulate him into joining the mission, and Illoran was well aware of this. There were many other physicians on Scynthia of greater talent and value, so the fact that Illoran had been chosen proved that he was now considered expendable. Still an asset, so they would not kill him outright, but expendable nonetheless.
Mulling over this new bit of information, and the existence of Orric's cloaking ring, Illoran started to form a plan. He had always been sympathetic to the plight of humans, but he felt a strange intangible connection to his newest patient, the human Ryane, and Orric was unwittingly handing him the tools he needed to help her. In a single moment, Illoran knew, fully and completely, that he would go against everything he had ever been taught as a Scynthian, and he would risk everything he had worked for to set this plan into motion. He would get this human female out of harm's way, and then, if he survived, he would move on to all the other humans trapped on Scynthia. He just needed to get his hands on one of Orric's cloaking rings.
"Thank you for the offer," Illoran replied, finally responding to Orric. "It would be my pleasure."
"Excellent!" said Orric. "I shall inform Salama’an right away!"
Chapter Twenty-Six
From Dusk
It was difficult to make headway through the snow-covered thehnwood forest in the midst of the frigid Tatoran night. It was snowing now and, unfortunately, it did well to cover the tracks of our predecessors, so we were walking blind toward our destination for the most part. Demtrius was wise to begin marking trees with his simiole fluid, making sure that, even in the darkest of nights, we would easily be able to trace our path back the way we came.
At the end of the unification ceremony, Demtrius and I had explained the details of our strange quest to the rest of our group.
"This is ridiculous!" Nepalen complained. "We'll never be able to find our way in these conditions. Six days of darkness, and the snow drifts alone are over our heads already!"
"If the others can, then so can we," Demtrius replied patiently.
"But we are not them," Nepalen protested, "and we don't know this land like they do!"
"We just need to head east and find the plateau," Demtrius reassured him. "Once we reach the summit, the land will be flat for miles, so we will be able to see the glow from the plant with ease."
"This Rengar must be enjoying a splendid joke," Alexitus commented. "A quest through the bitter-cold and interminable dark, all for an herb. It is far too risky and a tremendous waste of our time."
"It is not a waste of time if it solidifies our new relationship with the Mercerians," said Demtrius.
"You continue to take them at their word," said Alexitus, "but of course you would. You, Jaxon, and Rengar had a nice private chat up in that balloon. You are not nearly cautious enough. Remember, the Tatorans want us dead, and these Mercerians are still Tatorans, no matter how isolated they are."
"I don't care if you trust them," said Demtrius. "We need them, so we have to work with them, and since they hold the leverage, we are, for the time being, at their mercy."
Alexitus grunted, Nepalen huffed, and I sighed, rolling my eyes at their incessant whining. I almost couldn't see how they had managed to achieve a captain's rank, but, then again, the Dotarans live a very different life-style in a very different environment. It's interesting how technological advancements can improve a race in some areas yet hinder them in others.
We traversed a narrow trail that gently wound its way inland toward the raised plateau, carrying not even a map or compass for navigation. No, just like Ricson, Pinut, Scard, Jasala, and the others, we needed to find our own way to the distant Dracari tree without any outside assistance. We were relieved of all of our "other-worldly" possessions, as the Mercerians called them. The only weapons we were allowed to bring were those that could be made by the Mercerians, so, fortunately for Demtrius and me, we were allowed to keep our finely-crafted swords made of the incredibly strong and flexible Dotaran steel. Rengar provided Crispin, Thristin, Dolvin, Nepalen, and Alexitus with light-weight swords originally used to help train Mercerian cubs, as the full-sized blades proved to be too heavy for them to wield effectively. Even still, they were untrained in hand-to-hand combat, and the blades would do little against a squad of fully-equipped Scynthians, or disgruntled Mercerians for that matter.
We were not just “thrown to the faolers” though. Rengar thankfully also provided each of us with a thick hooded coat of meer fur, a water-skin, some food rations, and cub-sized snow-shoes to aid us in our journey. This journey wasn't meant to be easy, and with the state of affairs the way they were back at the Iccaryn, we could do little else than abide by the rules of the quest and do our best to complete it; the rest of the Dotarans were counting on us.
