Hadrian's Colony: Chapter Twelve, Part One

 Notes: Let's dive right back into the mayhem, shall we? That's probably going to be the theme of the year :/

Title: Hadrian's Colony: Chapter Twelve, Part One

***

Chapter Twelve: Part One

 

Surfacing from the impact of a pain-packer wasn’t the same as coming out of unconsciousness. There was no gentle wakeup, or no startled return to knowing your surroundings. The pain-packer was a simple invention that functioned like an ancient taser—it attacked the nervous system of the person who was hit with it, rendering them immobile and often unconscious.

The pain-packer never rendered someone unconscious, though. The unique thing about it was in the electrode that penetrated the victim in the initial shot. It was a smart machine, smart enough to run its own diagnostic on the person it had embedded into and determine the best way to both maximize battery life and awareness. It sent electricity through the body in waves, each wave just different enough that the afflicted was unable to anticipate how bad it was going to be. If they got close to passing out, it decreased the pain along the central nervous system and routed it to the limbs, but if it seemed like they were dealing too well with the pain, it sizzled up and down their spine to re-sensitize them.

Pain-packers were old tech, almost as old as tasers themselves, and largely out of favor now that nanotechnology was as good as it was. But General Hadrian had always liked the old ways of doing things, partially because they were more affordable but largely because they were more barbaric.

Kieron had only felt this pain once before, when he turned ten and began formally training with a unit instead of doing general training and exercises. It had symbolized welcoming them to a role of responsibility while also serving as a warning of what could happen to them if they fucked up. Back then, it had been on for less than ten seconds, but Kieron had wet his pants by the end of it. He remembered how disgusted the general had been with him.

He didn’t know if he’d pissed himself this time around. He didn’t know anything except pain, and beneath that, helpless fury. Every sound was muffled beneath the buzz of the current in his brain, and every touch felt clumsy and distant. He was vaguely aware of being rolled over, of the arrival of someone new, the pinch in his arm and the arguments going on over his head. How long had it been?

When the pain finally stopped, he kept seizing. His muscles didn’t know how to stop, but at least his mind was clear enough to hear what was happening in the room now.

“—way to be sure,” Carlisle was saying in a clipped tone. “It’s a waste of resources.”

“You don’t tell me what to do here,” the general replied. His voice was so much older, weighed down from years of shouting and abuse, but it had the same vicious edge that Kieron remembered so well. “I’m in charge.”

“Yes, sir, but—”

“And I’ll bust your ass back down to private and put you to work in the comfort rooms if you speak out of line to me again, do you hear me?”

There was a pause. “Yes, sir.”

The general hummed with satisfaction. “You brought an interesting puzzle back to base,” he continued, then paused to hock up a wad of spit that landed close to Kieron’s face. Ugh. He prayed he didn’t accidentally roll into it while his nervous system took the rest of him for a ride. “Obviously he’s a spy of some kind. Not Ganian, despite the name. Might be funded by them, though. Those bastards have more money than the rest of the Outer Rim combined.”

“Desfontaines is a Ganian name?”

The general laughed. “Only the name of one of their most visible citizens. Wealthiest of them all, from what the newsfeeds say. Haven’t gotten a transmission in the last few months, but there’s a definite connection.”

“He said he was part of a group looking to colonize. Not here, necessarily, but—”

“He clearly lied. Look at him, look at the way he went after me so quickly. No. He’s a spy or an assassin, or both.” From the sound of it, the general was pleased to be the target of a murder attempt. “It looks like my reputation continues to precede me.”

“Or he momentarily lost his mind.”

“No, no. That was calculated. He was taking his shot where he could get it. Someone out there wants me dead, and they sent this man to do the job.” Yep, that was pleasure all right. “I knew our raids on supply ships were having an effect, I knew it. And you said we ought to redirect our focus to the merc trade!” He spat again. “No, you see? This is the kind of attention we need, to grow strong again. To regain our status as the scourge of the Outer Rim, to make people fear us the way they used to.”

Fear them? Fear them? Once Kieron had gotten away from Hadrian’s Colony and his head was clear enough to actually do some research into his own origin, he’d been startled to realize that the place he’d been raised, the war he’d been shaped for, the “scourge” he’d been a part of, was barely a footnote in the annals of the larger galaxy. They’d been a thorn, nothing more, not even at the height of their power. And now, as reduced as they seemed to be, they were probably hardly more than a dark, pointless flicker to most of the inhabited planets in the sector.

“That being the case, sir,” Carlisle said carefully, “there’s still no need to waste a serokit on him. Either we can ransom him or we dispose of him. We don’t need to know anything else.”

Slowly the world began to come back into focus around Kieron as his body finally settled. He was on his side, and he hadn’t pissed himself. That was a plus. His fingers and toes tingled, and he was careful to keep his breathing shallow and his eyes slitted for now, to make them thing he was out of it for a little longer.

“On the contrary.” The general sighed. “You’re such a small thinker, child. It’s no wonder you never could rise to become my co-general. You let the immediate trump the long term. Running a serokit on this man will tell us plenty of useful things about him. If he’s got Ganian blood in him, the diseases he’s vaccinated against, how many modifications he’s undergone…all of this will tell us better than anything that could come out of his mouth exactly what kind of person he is.”

Oh fuck. They were running a panel on him. Fuck.

They were going to find out that he was vaccinated against all sorts of things, including diseases endemic to Hadrian’s Colony that weren’t found anywhere else in the known galaxy. But that was nothing compared to the other things they’d see in his DNA.

I’m your fucking grandson, you piece of shit.

What that would mean to this man, Kieron didn’t know, but he didn’t want to find out either. His loss of control had cost him, cost him very badly. The only way out of the situation that he could see now was to play up his weakness and ramp up his efforts to escape.

“I’m leaving him in your care,” the general said. “Consider it your chance to redeem yourself. Once we know exactly who he is, I’ll make a plan. Until then, your job is to keep him alive and maintain the security of the compound. If you fail, it’s the comfort rooms for you for the rest of the season.” Kieron heard the bulky creature shift his weight, and when he spoke next, his voice was lower and far more vicious. “Half the fifth brigade is looking for a chance to fuck you over after what happened last month, you know. I’d be careful with the prisoner if I were you, otherwise soon enough you’re not going to be able to walk.” He leaned back. “Dismissed.”

Carlisle didn’t hesitate, just threw him over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry and walked out at a brisk pace, leaving Kieron to contemplate the fact that his grandfather was threatening his mother, the man’s own daughter, with serial rape.

Over my dead fucking body.