A thin wind whistled around the Torfinn-Reece Clinic’s main entry, and Llyn paused outside the hillside entry. Downhill below the clinic, pale fabric clung unusually close to the fruit trees.
Elroy squinted up at roiling gray clouds and waved Llyn toward the glassed entryway. “Come on,” he cried.
Llyn plunged indoors. Karine and Elroy followed.
“Any idea what happened?” Karine paused just inside the front door, and Llyn stopped, too. Karine had tried again to tune in the i-net all the way home, growing frantic as they careened up the hill road. All they heard was static and short, garbled transmissions. An explosion that shook Lengle township, 200K from Nuris, was no small bombing.
“No idea.” Elroy’s voice dropped to a lower pitch. “We closed off all streamside windows and deflated the orchard cover to treetop level. Everyone’s in the lower story. I told them we’d stay down until we got an unambiguous all-clear.”
“Good work. Go on down, and take Llyn with you. I’m going to call Filip.”
Llyn had to admire Karine’s self-control and Elroy’s quick response. It felt weirdly good to be safely home.
Elroy grasped her shoulder. “Come on, come on.”
Karine dropped onto the stool next to the clinic’s main multinet terminal. She recited Filip’s communication code. Nothing happened.
Bombed! What would they do if c-net was down? There used to be emergency generators …
She tried again. Then again. She stood up, walked a lap around the dining area, and demanded Filip’s number once more. When those generators came back online, she must be the first caller through.
After several minutes, the unit hummed. She jabbed her REPEAT key. There was an odd delay of five or six seconds. A stranger’s face appeared over her terminal.
“I’m calling for Filip Salbari,” Karine said before he could speak. “Is he—”
“Regent Salbari is not available,” the man said. “How may I help you?”
He couldn’t be dead! “This is Medic Karine Torfinn.” She steadied her voice. “Is Filip alive? Do you know—”
“He was traveling from Nuris to the family estate for the funeral when the attack occurred. He is safe, and he is extremely busy. How else may I help you?”
Some of the tension melted out of her shoulders. She swallowed hard and pushed out more words. “My son, Niklo Reece, lives in western student housing. Is there any word out from the University?”
“Very little.” The man frowned, shaking his head. “I can tell you that West Housing was destroyed.”
Karine gasped. The edges of her vision darkened. “Maybe Niklo wasn’t there.”
“I hope not, Medic Torfinn. Sincerely.”
She hardly knew what to ask. “What happened? Who bombed the University?”
“Nuris University and the Outwatch base were both targeted by intersystem warships.”
He’d said it so calmly that she wondered whether she heard him right. “Warships? I thought—”
“They came through Antar Gate a week ago, identifying themselves as Kocaban cargo haulers. Antar Outwatch was about to insert them into a standard parking orbit when they accelerated, dove, and launched two clusters of missiles. They are headed back toward Antar Gate. Fast.”
Her pulse pounded. Had the Devastators returned? They had never bothered with anything so small as a university. They wasted whole planets. But no human would willfully damage a life-supporting world. “Are we pursuing?”
“Antar has no Outwatch ships left.”
“We’re … grounded?” She felt almost dizzy. Anton Salbari must call Tdega for a rescue. No—wait—Anton Salbari had been at the University. “Wait.” Her voice shook. “Who were they—the ships?”
“Judging by their escape velocity, they are new and advanced. If they were built inside Concord space, they have to Tdegan.”
Tdega, the world that must keep Antar from starving? She frowned. “That’s only a supposition. They could be alien. Is Anton Salbari alive?”
“We don’t know. He was at the University. We have positive whereabouts on three other Regents, but the worst destruction is centered in the upper residential cluster.”
That elegant cluster housed the Tourelle and Sheliak families, as well as several of the Salbaris’ other relatives. Someone had tried to lop off Nuris’s headship. She’d first thought that the bombing and those mysterious searches for Llyn were related. Now … perhaps not.
“Will someone notify me if Niklo checks in?” she whispered. She’d had no sense of his death or injury, and today, her listening sense was so acute she felt raw. Surely she would have known if Niklo were gone.
“Yes, we will. But he must remain in the Nuris area. We have declared emergency wartime footing. All private transport is banned. How secure is your dwelling?”
Somehow she would spirit Niklo out of the city, but for the moment, she concentrated on the small question that she could answer. “It’s quakeproof. Rad resistant, or so I’m told. We’ve never had to test it.”
“Agreed. Not in fifty years.” Stress lines darkened the man’s face. He would have a long night.
So would she.
“Call if you need assistance, Medic Torfinn.”
“If I’m needed, I will be here.”
“Oh. Yes. There will probably be hundreds of survivors who require your services. But not today. Thank you. Keep us in your prayers.” The face vanished.
Karine slid off her view-glasses. “No!” she whispered, covering her face with achingly empty hands. “Not Niklo!”
A Residence Security guard swung open the main door of Gamal Casimir’s favorite upstairs lounge, the fire room. Gamal squinted his good eye. His only surviving son walked up the carpet, carrying a sheaf of printouts. Siah, the shortest and heaviest of his generation, had piggy eyes in the middle of a round, petulant face. He took after his mother, who’d died trying to birth Gamal’s third daughter.
Gamal sat in a cushioned, carved wooden chair with the hearth on his right. Beyond the flickering fire, Osun Zavijavah stood staring into its heart. Eerie orange reflections wavered on his black wraparound glasses as he stroked his drooping mustache.
The sun stood just past second noon, late evening by Tdegan clocks. If the Casimir family meant to present a unified front, then tonight—before the public reacted to the Antar attack—he must interview his son Siah and then his other nephew, Bellik’s brother Alun. Gamal’s own first son and eldest daughter had been executed nine years ago, convicted of assassinating Gamal’s older brother. After the tragic triple loss, Gamal had agreed to raise his nephews—Bellik, then seventeen, and Alun, only ten—alongside his surviving children.
Tonight, the family would likely split again.
Siah stopped in front of the hearth and puffed for breath. “You called me in, sir? I have the new export figures.” He waved the printouts. “Do you want them after all? Is that why you called me?”
“Are those negotiation figures?” Gamal asked.
Siah nodded. When he blinked, his little eyes almost disappeared.
The fire popped. Gamal’s grandfather Donson, sitting in a corner chair, woke up and sipped from his wineglass. Gamal had asked the old Head Regent to sit in with him this evening for appearance’s sake.
“Antar’s attempt to impose its pricing on Tdega is now a dead issue,” Gamal said.
Siah had favored going along with the Concord power play. “Is it, Father?”
“If Antar took that step, what assurance do we have that their controls would ever be revoked?”
“We have their word—”
Gamal interrupted. “Treaties have been broken throughout history, particularly when there are regime changes. Essentially, there is no reason for Antar to dominate the Concord.”
“Antar is geometrically central—”
“And only slightly closer to its Gate than Tdega is to ours. What is the real point of maintaining a central government?”
“Tradition.” Siah shrugged slightly. “And Nuris University.”
“Correct,” Gamal said. “If certain people hadn’t salvaged centuries of data for Antar, Bkellan University would have become the Concord’s information treasury by default.”
“Obviously.”
Gamal steepled his fingers and watched Siah’s face. “Our forces struck Antar this morning.”
Siah’s topmost chin quivered for an instant. “What do you mean? Attacked?”
“Yes. The primary target was Nuris University.”
Siah blinked with his mouth half open.
“I am realigning the Concord, Siah. Antar wants to keep us from rising, but we won’t be kept down. Once we rule ourselves, the smaller worlds will look to us for goods and protection. Can you support that position?”
“I …”
Security Chief Zavijavah’s head turned. Behind those glasses, he eyed Siah.
“Sir.” Siah tossed his printouts toward the fire grate. They fluttered onto the carpet. “I cannot condone attacking Antar, but I will not stand in your way. If I leave Bkellan with my family and stay quiet, will you pledge that we won’t be … harassed?”
Rotund little Siah would’ve made some other family a good son. He showed common sense. “Make no statement opposing my actions, and you will be fine.” Gamal laced his fingers.
“Agreed. I promise.”
“Then I pledge your safety. You are an intelligent man, Siah. Take care of my grandchildren.”
“Are Bellik and Alun with you in this?”
Siah would wonder where his cousins stood. “That is Bellik’s and Alun’s business. Not yours.”
Siah hurried away.
Gamal watched his son leave. Maybe Siah was smarter than he looked, letting Gamal take the risk and getting ready to jump to whatever side won.
“Any orders?” Osun Zavijavah stared at the fire.
“Not yet.” Gamal raised a hand. “But if Siah is still in residence tomorrow morning, notify me.”
A voice creaked out of the corner. “Where is Siah going?”
Gamal turned around. His father Aeternum had kept Grandfather Donson alive for an extra decade, despite astronomical medical expenses, partly out of gratitude—a smooth transition of power had made Aeternum a Vice Regent at forty-five—and partly because the aged Head Regent made such a good scapegoat. Whenever one of Aeternum’s governmental experiments went wrong, the family blamed Donson’s advice. Gamal agreed with his late father: Donson was worth his declining weight in geriatric medications.
Obviously confused, Donson waved at the door as it shut behind Siah. “Is he looking for Aeternum?”
Not yet, if he behaved. “He’s gone away,” Gamal said, “for a while.”
Osun Zavijavah turned away from the fire. Gamal asked him, “Has Alun been called?”
“He should be here in four minutes.”
The fire hissed.
“How are you feeling?” Gamal recrossed his legs.
Zavijavah thumbed his left temple. “It’s becoming a distraction again.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
The door opened, and Bellik’s younger brother Alun paused at the other end of the carpet. He glanced around the room. Lanky like Bellik, nineteen-year-old Alun had attended Nuris University for a year before he was called home. He had gone queueless while away, growing out his glossy black hair in the Antaran style. He attended Bkellan University now, but he still wore his hair unconventionally.
At least he hadn’t come back wearing culottes.
“Good evening,” Alun said crisply. “I’m glad you called me in. I’ve been wanting to ask about several changes of curriculum. I want to take my degree from a university, sir. Not a military academy.”
“It will remain a university.” Gamal bristled. He’d known Alun might be trouble. “It will soon be the best in Concord space. We are adding a few courses more relevant to the time.”
“Plasma Weaponry? Underground Shelter Reinforcement? A Historical Overview of Interplanetary Warfare?” Alun shook his head. “The Tdegan military will not make Bkellan the best in Concord space.”
Ah, but it already had. “Maybe our secession will.”
“You can’t secede without public debate. Give the Tdegan people a choice in the matter.”
Gamal studied Alun through slitted eyes. There was no room in the family for obstructionists. Obviously, he didn’t need to ask how Alun felt about striking Nuris University. “Siah is about to leave town.” Might as well say it bluntly. “Do you want to leave, too? Or simply change your mind?”
“Neither, Uncle.” Alun strode to the corner. “Hello, Great-granddad.” He gripped and raised the old man’s hand.
Donson smiled and mouthed the air.
Zavijavah watched them.
Alun turned back to Gamal. “Is that all, sir?”
“I wished to know how you felt about secession. Now I know.”
“Yes, sir. You do. Please reconsider about the University, Uncle.”
“Very well. Good night.”
Alun walked out.
Zavijavah stepped across the hearth. Plucking at a gold band on his dark red coat sleeve, he frowned down at Gamal. “He’s out, isn’t he?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Rider is interested in Alun,” Zavijavah said, developing an odd atonal lilt to his voice.
“That is understandable.” Gamal thought he understood. “But Alun is likely to make trouble.”
“That can be taken care of.” Zavijavah paused as if listening to someone, then added, “He only needs to be kept quiet until Rider needs him. That won’t be for awhile yet—”
Gamal raised a hand. He preferred not to talk about Rider in the old man’s presence. Donson already looked asleep again, but sometimes he only catnapped. “Then we will not send Alun away.” Gamal eyed his Security Chief. “Do what you must, but don’t leave traces.”
Zavijavah nodded and left the fire room. Gamal called for a servant to wheel Donson down to bed.
He, Bellik, and Security Chief Zavijavah would guide Tdega through this transition. Mentally dismissing Siah and Alun, he walked to a wall cabinet. He wanted to check something Zavijavah had told him.
He drew out an irregular round object, bleached white. It stared up at him with large, empty eyes: his brother Hutton’s skull. Father of Bellik and Alun, Hutton had been Gamal’s rival and tormentor, ruthlessly suspicious of Gamal, eventually poisoned by Gamal’s children. Gamal had recently reclaimed Hutton’s skull from the family vault. It would remind him of what he must do—and why—if he meant to lead Tdega toward peace and power.
He returned to his chair, crossed his legs, and dangled a foot over the hearth before he raised the skull and stroked its dome. It felt like silk, even where tiny fingerlike protrusions joined one plate to another. Thick and rigid, it had housed a human’s ultimate possession—one that he never fully utilized.
Gamal saw no resemblance between Hutton’s arrogant face and the empty-eyed object in front of him. The skull looked friendlier.
He contemplated the tiny hole behind one ocular orbit. An optic nerve had passed through that hole to the brain.
Now he saw clearly what Osun Zavijavah had tried to explain. The ear and mouth apertures gave better access to gray matter. Bone surrounded the eyes, preventing a foreign object’s penetration.
It mattered greatly to Zavijavah, because Zavijavah carried an alien ambassador inside his skull.
As Gamal understood it, his new allies the Chaethe had arisen as intelligent symbiotes to a non-intelligent carrier species. “Riding” other species however it suited them, they had tried to invade a nearby system—and they incited a war that exploded outward, involving every habitable world that the terrified Devastators could reach. It had been the Devastators who depopulated the Concord star cluster.
And now, the Chaethe parasites were settling the Concord’s rim, quietly absorbing the Sunsis system’s human population and controlling travel through its Gate. They waited at Sunsis, as Zavijavah’s Rider had put it to Gamal, to see whether humans knew how to fight. They still lived in terror of the Devastators. On their own, they were incapable of defending themselves or their offspring. They needed strong allies, bodies they could move. To fight back.
Gamal wanted leverage over the other Concord worlds, but he also needed power to protect Tdega against the Devastators if they returned. Tdega was the most fertile world in human-settled space, and its environment must not be destroyed. He could not really secede from the Concord without destroying all of the Gates, so the decision was simple. He needed the Chaethe as allies. That would tumble the Concord’s power balances in Tdega’s favor, if Antar decided to fight.
But Rider was very alien. Sometimes it made statements Gamal could not comprehend. Gamal had experimented, years ago when the ambassador first came to Tdega, with ways to communicate. Safe within a host’s skull, a Chaethe preserved the host’s natural speech centers. However, Rider insisted they had additional levels of intelligence that humans could not comprehend. Rider refused to give any other information.
Since Gamal needed that power balance, his experimentation continued privately between Gamal and Rider—via Zavijavah.
Gamal upended the skull and thrust his finger through an ear hole. Wiggling inside the brain cavity, it looked wormlike.
An ear hole was large enough, too. So was the gap at the base of the skull.
He wondered why Chaethe preferred penetrating through the human mouth.
Alun Casimir strode into his cousin Siah’s Residence suite and let the hall door slide shut. Before he could speak, Siah’s wife dashed out of the side bedroom, chasing a chubby-legged boy. “Hinton, stop that. Put your coat on!” They vanished behind Siah into the main bedroom.
Siah stood beside the main entry access panel, across from a group of still-life paintings. A head and a half smaller than Alun, Siah obviously enjoyed Residence food. Still, deep honesty showed in his face, and his shrewd eyes were steady. Siah was the only relative whom Alun trusted.
His untucked casual shirt looked like he’d thrown it on. “Father called you in, too?”
Alun nodded and braced for an argument. “I just came from the fire room.”
“We’re heading out in fifteen minutes. Come with us. The kids are thrilled to be taking a surprise vacation.”
Alun rubbed his chin. “I’m not leaving. You shouldn’t, either. That’s cowardly.”
Siah pointed a fleshy finger at him. “I’m old enough to remember my sister Danza and my brother Gonsalve. Someone in this family doesn’t make exceptions.”
Alun shook his head. “Then send Fidele and the children away. But together, maybe we could do something.”
Siah spread his hands. “Alun, running away is the first line of defense. Sometimes taking a stand is the right thing to do, but you’re going to do it prematurely. Don’t push yet. He’s not ready to listen.”
Siah rarely missed the point so completely. “Uncle Gamal has no idea that he’s taking things too far,” Alun said. “He won’t find out, either, unless someone tells him so. Somebody has to ring the alarm buzzer.”
“And get flattened.”
“I probably will, unless you stand with me.” Alun grimaced. “I shouldn’t be the only one to speak up. You’re hiding behind your own family.”
“When you have a family, you’ll understand,” Siah murmured. “Either that, or you’ll make their lives miserable, ringing your alarm buzzers.”
Alun thrust his hands into his pockets. “Not the family I’m going to have.”
“Nobody’s perfect, Alun. Fidele is the gentlest, most intelligent woman I know, but we’ve had arguments. Sometimes she’s right.”
“So?”
“So I don’t cut her down when we disagree. We’re going to stand together. But we’re going to stand elsewhere.
“Maybe,” he added softly, “Father will eventually do himself in. That’s why I think you’re challenging him too soon. I’ve made arrangements with Bkellan University to set up a secured link. Not even Father will know about it. That’s my right as a Regent. Wherever we travel, we’ll be able to keep track of what’s going on here.”
“Good idea.” Alun rubbed his face. “But …” There didn’t seem to be much else to say.
“You won’t go with us?”
“You won’t stay?”
“Well.” Siah exhaled and pursed his lips. “We’re obviously not going to convince each other. Good luck, Alun. If all else fails, go to the Antaran embassy. The Ambassador’s a good man. He has offered us all asylum.”
Alun clasped his cousin’s hand and left the suite. Neither of Siah’s offers tempted him. He was doing the right thing.
Somebody had to.
Osun Zavijavah took a late dinner in his apartment on the east wing’s ground floor.
He lived in a single room, carpeted with minimal furniture: one bed, one table, one chair. No shelves. Clutter made him uneasy. He always kept his closet door open so he could see inside.
He did not mourn Aeternum Casimir. Aeternum had hired him, but Gamal Casimir brought him into his own bitter inner circle. Zavijavah’s job was to oversee Residence guards and make sure that information lines remained secure.
His five senses were sharper, if anything, than before Rider infested his life. He took excellent care of his body these days. He had no choice. It was valuable to Rider. He’d never been this meticulous with diet and exercise.
He sat at the small table in his darkened room. Tonight he missed his family. He’d spoken with them two days ago, so he must wait four more days to call them again. They were safer on Tdega’s far side. Safer from any Concord counterattack, safer from the Casimirs’ notorious infighting, and safer from anything Rider might pressure him to do.
Gamal Casimir had long threatened to punish Zavijavah’s family if his service ever slipped. If Zavijavah did not give Casimir—and Rider—full cooperation, Casimir had promised Zavijavah’s family Riders of their own. So far, they knew nothing about the alien parasite. He would rather die than let any of them become carriers. But Casimir kept him on several chains, controlling Zavijavah’s fate as dispassionately as if he were one of the brutes in the kennel out back.
Zavijavah ate mechanically. His menu rarely varied: beef liver, dark green vegetables, puddings that tasted metallic and left dark smears in his mustache. His jaw popped as he chewed, aching clear up to his temples. He laid down his fork and pulled off the dark glasses that hid his eyes from the world. He rubbed his temples with both hands.
He had been born a seer, a mutant with enormous eyes that gathered tremendous amounts of light. His Vatsyan mother had applied for one of the few immigrant visas Tdega offered each year—rather than have the abortion her parents demanded—when she learned she was pregnant by a seer. She’d schooled Osun at home, and he’d found nighttime security work in which his unnatural eyes were useful.
They had also attracted Rider’s attention. Rider perceived the physical world through its carrier’s senses, and it found sensory enhancements fascinating.
Without preamble, its thin voice spoke inside Zavijavah’s head. “Get Alun Casimir ready. I don’t want him sent away.”
No one else ever heard Rider’s voice. “Let me finish eating.” Since they were alone, Zavijavah answered out loud. That helped him separate his own voice from the parasite’s. Rider seemed to check in and out of Zavijavah’s consciousness, spending little time eavesdropping. Zavijavah wondered what else occupied its attention.
“You have orders. Take care of Alun.”
“I will. But first, I’m eating this garbage for you.” Bitterly, Zavijavah cut another bite of liver. “I’d prefer it warm.”
An unearthly wail echoed between his ears. “Now,” Rider shrieked. The reedy voice had not lost patience. It was simply enforcing an order.
Zavijavah dropped his knife and fork. He bowed his head and shut his eyes. When he couldn’t see, it couldn’t. Shutting down his vision was the only way he could get back at it. “Let me catch my breath,” he muttered.
“Breathe deeply.”
“Listen to me,” Zavijavah said. “Alun lives in Residence. I’ve asked my staff to inform me when he falls asleep. I don’t want a confrontation tonight. I have a headache. You know why.”
The wailing faded.
He finished his dinner, chewing around the aches and pops of his sprung jaw. Rider needed this iron-rich diet so that Zavijavah’s body would lay down a thick sheath around each of its offspring spores. Soon it would enter a reproductive period. With its second spore mature, and before a third started to form, Zavijavah must help it infest a new host. He’d been through that already. He dreaded doing it again.
After he finished eating, he went to his terminal and pulled on a pair of shaded view-glasses. From his net menu he considered several ways to render young Alun harmless without damaging his senses or dexterity. Rider had told him that it found human intelligence extraneous. Still, Zavijavah had more sympathy for a fellow human than an alien parasite. He didn’t want to leave Alun mindless.
Something untraceable …
A binary poison. The first dose would bind to cells in Alun’s limbic system deep inside the brain. The second dose would react with the first, liberating a tiny dose of free radicals in that single target zone … and then vanish from the body.
He keyed for delivery of the reagents he needed, then lay down on the bed. His head hurt. Hoping to lull Rider, he remembered …
He’d been wheeled onto the Residence lift nine years ago, drugged and strapped to a medical gurney. Gamal Casimir, acting alone, had propped him up on his side, pulled off his dark glasses, and switched on a brilliant light. He had attached a metal frame to Zavijavah’s head, shoulders, and mouth. Squinting through tears, Zavijavah had seen the similarly anchored head of another man.
He would have screamed if he could have breathed, as Casimir—then only an Assistant Vice Regent—forced back his head, opening his mouth almost 180 degrees. He had screamed when something shot between his teeth and up through the roof of his mouth. He’d thought he was dead.
Casimir had flicked ash from a cigarillo and released both hinges of the jaw vise. Zavijavah swallowed blood.
Then it began, an audible hissing as Rider entangled itself, refreshing its genetic material with its new host’s nucleotides, creating itself a new body out of Zavijavah’s intracranial cells.
He shook his head and dismissed the hideous memory. An odd sense of pleasure winked out. Rider apparently enjoyed reliving its “liberation.” It generally launched offspring spores this way, remaining inside its carrier host. That time, it had abandoned another host to take Zavijavah. It often stroked Zavijavah’s pleasure sense when he pleased it by remembering.
A voice drifted out of the wall next to his bed. “Your subject is asleep, sir.” Several minutes later, the voice spoke again. “Delivery on its way.”
Zavijavah got up. He washed his face and slipped his dark glasses back on, then his uniform coat. By the time he finished straightening it, his entry alarm rang. He touched the ADMIT light, and the door slid aside. One of his employees stood outside, holding a tray.
He took it and dismissed her. On the tray lay three numbered ampules, a syringe, and an absorbent cloth.
How simple the implements humans used to destroy one another.
He slipped the items into his coat pocket and rode the lift to the second floor. He strode past the guard station, where he saluted but did not name his destination.
When he thumbed the security panel outside Alun Casimir’s suite, the door slid aside. He drew off his dark glasses.
He found Alun sleeping on his back, easy to identify by his unshorn hair. Relieved that the job would be easy, Zavijavah opened the first ampule and doused the cloth. Gingerly he lowered it toward Alun’s face.
He checked the time. Thirty seconds would ensure that Alun slept through the rest of the treatment.
He knew why Rider wanted Alun Casimir. Alun would eventually give one of Rider’s spore offspring a voice on Bkellan University’s Board of Regents. Gamal Casimir had agreed to take Zavijavah across space to Sunsis when Rider’s next spores matured, along with Alun and one other new victim. At Sunsis A, the warmer of two habitable planets, other Chaethe carriers maintained a “liberation” facility where transmitting hosts could be medicated and receiving hosts given good care.
Zavijavah would remain a carrier for the rest of his life. Every four and a half Tdegan years, he would need to return to Sunsis to liberate two spores. Casimir could have taken him to Sunsis when one had matured. Casimir was still experimenting. And he’d heard that a Chaethe could leave or enter an uncooperative host in even grislier ways—
Thirty seconds. A false sense of pleasure trickled through his nerves, rewarding him. He removed the cloth and pressed the second ampule into the syringe.
He disliked what he was doing. He disliked what he was becoming. But he could not endure Rider’s wails inside his head.
He rarely resisted now.