“The hell did you say?”

“I said, Mr. Finn, She is not your friend.”

“Oh, that’s not what … look, Liv has been my friend since we were children. What could she have to do with any of this?”

I turned the photo over and pushed it across the table. My finger lingered on the photograph for several seconds, unable to let it go. I’d done so once before; I’d let her go, and I’d always regretted my decision.

“I know this is difficult, but we have reason to suspect her involvement.”

“That is bullshit. Liv has never even left South Carolina. How could she have anything to do with anything? She’s a girl, not some space terrorist or eldritch cultist. I’m not going to let you turn me against my friends.”

“Your loyalty is commendable, Mr. Finn,” Sebbit shook his head. “My own daughter speaks highly of you — a courtesy that even I rarely receive.”

He picked up the metal canister, looking at it before setting it at the center of the table. I had no idea what it was. It was about the size of my forearm and seemingly made of a single piece of seamless metal. If anything, the display and the odd protrusions made it look like a cliché sci-fi bomb from a Hollywood prop department.

The captain pressed down on the three protrusions the previously grooveless metal split open down the center. A cold mist rose up from the canister obscuring whatever was inside. Sebbit remained silent as I waited for the mist to thin.

“What’s this?”

I saw the first outlines of the object and it … it twitched. A ball of black, leathery material riddled with veins and tumorous growths slowly revealed itself. Every few seconds it would pump, breathing in the mist and releasing a thick stream of a familiar energy.

Is it alive? I thought. Whatever it was, it was creating eldritch energy.

“This object,” Sebbit said, “was retrieved from one of the cultists that ambushed my soldiers. What is most concerning, to me, is that its existence on this planet predates the eldritch event that predicated Hegemonic intervention.”

I simply sat there watching the beating heart. I could feel the thick streams of energy that poured out of it with each spasm. The energy was heavier; it was somehow both more virile and less chaotic than the energy I was used to working with. I had to force myself to stifle an instinctive urge to reach out and examine it, manipulate it. What could I do with such an energy?

Some deep part of my mind responded, a great hunger that desired to make the energy part of myself. Ourselves.

The energy quickly filled the room, and I felt as if I was swimming in muck that clung to me and threatened to pull me deeper into it like quicksand. The grey paint on the walls began to peel and warp as if time and entropy had been sped up.

I instinctively reached out towards the energy but pulled back in disgust.

It felt much more active and volatile than the reddish black energy I was used to working with. As it caressed my skin, trace amounts of the energy would seep into my pores, filling me with a sense of hatred for the living.

Whatever this heart belonged to had died terribly, and I could still feel it calling out for vengeance.

My arms and torso shook and sweat began to pour down my face. My face paled, and I could feel the contents of my stomach beginning to rebel. I struggled to push the energy out of my body when Sebbit snapped shut the canister with a deafening bang that reverberated between the walls of the narrow concrete room.

The energy didn’t immediately dissipate, instead lingering as a literal cloud of malaise.

I reached up to touch my face and ran my thumb through a weeks’ worth of scraggly beard, before placing my hand over my eyes. I couldn’t get the emotions out of my head. I yelled, pushing up from my chair as I forced the last of the energy out of my body.

“What the hell was that?”

“Hmm …” Sebbit vocalized. “As I said, this object was taken from a cultist. A human that murdered several highly trained Peacekeepers. I should not have to tell you how difficult that should be for any citizen, let alone a tier four citizen armed with primitive weaponry.”

“And why are you showing it to me?”

“I needed to see your reaction,” said the computerized voice of Sebbit’s translator. “It was … informative — you clearly had a very strong reaction, and yet your claims of ignorance are honest. You’ve either never seen a dungeon core before, or the memory has been … tampered with.”

“And what does this have to do with Liv,” I said. “Why did you show me … that,” I pointed towards the photo that still sat on the table.

“Mr. Finn, please know that this gives me no pleasure. My only wish is to uphold the Accord and to protect every citizen of the Hegemony. I take my oaths very seriously, especially this one.”

“Please, just tell me what is going on …”

“Very well, Mr. Finn. That photograph and this core ...”

His hand rested on the silver canister, and he pulled it slightly towards himself. His eyes narrowed, focusing on the display for several seconds before he continued speaking.

“These items were recovered from a terrorist that was captured during an attack on my forward base. Nearly a dozen women under my command were slaughtered, many of them due to my order to take at least one of them alive. It does not lessen the loss, but their sacrifice was not in vain.”

“You let your soldiers die … for this?”

“And for the prisoner, yes. It was incredibly important that we understood the abilities and motivations of our attackers. Each displayed power I have heard rumors of but had never witnessed for myself … Powers very similar to your own, Mr. Finn.”

“My, what? Captured? Is she here … is she?”

I couldn’t continue. I just stared at the expressionless face of the alien captain. I tried to convey my question through eye contact alone. I tried to will him to tell me if she was still alive. I couldn’t bring myself to say the words.

Sebbit watched me as I gasped helplessly. He denied me even the simple mercy of telling me what had happened, and if she was still alive. He stood, looking down at me for a moment before turning silently towards the door.

“Sebbit, answer me, you son of a bitch. I’ll do whatever you want, just tell me!”

I banged on the table and the cheap metal legs bent, sending it across the floor where it smashed against the far wall. I turned and flung my stool, striking the door just as it closed.

“Sebbit, please …”

I exploded with rage, calling for him to come back — demanding that he answer me. Instead, he simply left me alone to stew in my own rage; a rage that was fueled by a thick cloud of anger and resentment. A palpable, literal cloud.

The energy I had rejected was still lingering in the small room. I allowed my anger to overcome my disgust at the unpleasant feeling of the energy. I called to it and it responded.

Each drop of energy fed my own anger in a self-reinforcing loop, more and more of the energy flowing into me as my anger peaked. I could feel it growing and contracting into a denser and denser sphere — as if building up to a critical mass before going critical. I felt as though I would explode.

The small amount of energy I had absorbed previously fought with the new energy, trying to contain and convert it. Soon there would be more of the new energy, and it would overwhelm the defenders. Soon …

Stop, Finn …

The voice barely registered as I allowed the energy to continue to control me. I no longer had to direct it, it came willingly, picking up speed as it spiraled around me like a drain that led directly into my soul. My body shook and ached, but I continued.

Finn, you must stop … Please.

The voice was different this time. It was comforting and familiar — feminine.

Please, calm down.

"Liv?” I asked. “How can you be …”

My rage gradually dwindled, and with it the rage-filled energy slowed, allowing the black-red energy of madness to exert control once more. The energy slowly stabilized and was absorbed, growing the tiny bit I had collected previously.

That brief interruption had been enough to interrupt the cycle of hate and anger. The break was enough, barely. Without it, I might have been lost and unable to break free of the hatred and anger that had run wild in me. I still felt it, but I recognized rage as my own. I had kept it bottled for too long.

“You’re there,” I whispered. “I can feel you in my mind. I thought I was finally free of you, but you’re just one more reminder. One more failure added to the pile.”

I felt exhausted, no longer having the will or energy to be angry. I was drained, almost apathetic. Nothing mattered. All I could do was accept the truth. Liv was gone, maybe in ways I couldn’t even comprehend. Could it be true?

“Come out, Fisher! Dark Gemini, Avatar of … Whatever you are, you know more than you are telling me. You wanted me on your side, well now you’ve got me.”

I waited, but the creature had gone silent once more. I had a vague sense of it in the back of my mind. It was weak, and struggling to remain awake. Our connection was beginning to be restored but was not yet strong enough for me to borrow its senses or pinpoint its location. Or was it the other one speaking with me?

“Help me find her, and I’ll do whatever you want.”

But the Fisher did not answer. Instead, my ravings were interrupted by two sets of impossibly strong arms that lifted me by the shoulders and dragged me into a narrow, dimly lit hallway.

***

Sometime later, the door to my cell was opened and a green-skinned Peacekeeper deposited a thin metal tray on the floor before turning and leaving. She never said so much as a word, not that any of them had. My keepers were not the chatty type.

The tray contained more of the red fruit and a dull, gray slice of bread. Beside it was a tin cup of water. I ignored it, as I had done the last half-dozen. The trays would come, and then be picked up an hour later — each time untouched.

“You need your strength,” said a faint voice.

“I don’t care.”

“They want you for something.” The faint outline of a small bird was hidden in the shadows that filled the opposite corner. “This waiting is nothing more than theatrics meant to break you, to make you beg them to do whatever it is that they want from us.”

“So, why have you finally decided to show up?” I said. “Your timing is perfect, as usual. And what is it that you think they want?”

“I’m nothing more than a little bird,” the creature said. “What could I tell you?”

“If that were true, you’d leave me alone. What the hell do you want?”

I slumped down and let me head lean back against the cool wall. I found the cold touch relaxing, perhaps my last remaining pleasure.

“Did you come to torture me with meaningless riddles, or did you just stop by to say hi? Perhaps you want to tell me that one of my best friends is either dead or working with a cult of murderers?”

My dry, brittle throat burned in agony with each syllable I spoke.

“No, Finn,” the creature said. “While you’ve been wallowing in your own misery, I’ve been trapped in mine. Mind.” The creature laughed with a sickly wheeze. “They’ll be back, and when they do, we’ll be ready.”

“Ready how?” I asked. “You can’t possibly think we could escape this place. Catayla alone would take us out, not to mention Sebbit and his army of giant lizards.”

“Escape?” I could feel the creature grin despite it being nothing more than the silhouette of a small bird that had no lips or teeth.

“No, my boy, they are going to let us go.”