Since Logan can’t come with me, we arrange to meet back in the cafeteria for dinner. Hopefully my meeting with the Mardenite will be over long before then.
I go alone to Restricted Division to find the Developers. It turns out they’re overseeing the start of the bomb’s construction. I have to talk to several security guards before someone grants me access to them, and even then I’m not allowed into the room. Someone carries my request to Commander Charlie and returns with the answer.
I expect to have to give an excuse for why I’m asking to see the Mardenite after today’s events, but it turns out to be easy. Cadet Waller will escort me to see the prisoner. Apparently the Developers don’t think letting me see the Mardenite will endanger their plans. I’m guessing they’re also busy and they want me out of their hair.
Cadet Waller doesn’t seem terribly pleased she’s been assigned the task of escort. She purses her lips as she leads me down the hallway.
“Where is the prisoner being kept?” I ask.
“In a secure location,” is all she says.
At the end of the hallway, Cadet Waller taps a code into the panel beside the door, and it zips open. She ducks her head to move through the door, and I follow. The corridor ahead of us is much narrower than the last. It makes me feel a bit claustrophobic.
We turn three corners—left, right, right—passing at least six unmarked doors before she stops in front of another. Waller’s fingers fly across the keys on another security console, typing in a new code. All I’m able to catch is that the last number is two.
The door opens with a hiss. As we move into the room, a low sound of boiling liquid fills my ears. We’ve entered a laboratory. There are tubes of bubbling chemicals and stacks of glass vials and scales on the tables. A short set of steps at the back of the room leads to a glass door. The lights beyond the door are dark, so I can’t see what’s back there. But that must be where they’re keeping the Mardenite.
A man with thick, dark hair stands in front of a giant microscope on the right side of the room, peering through the eyepieces. He doesn’t seem to have heard us come in.
“Hello, Dr. Troy,” Cadet Waller says.
The doctor startles and turns around. Clearing his throat, he switches off the microscope and sets the scalpel he was holding on the table. He walks toward us with a smile. “Afternoon, Ms. Waller. How may I help you?”
“We’re here to see Prisoner V. I have orders from the commanders to allow this girl a short visit with him.”
“I see,” Dr. Troy says. He turns to me. “And your name is…”
“Clementine,” I say.
“You would know her as Subject 7,” Waller says.
Dr. Troy’s eyes shift to me again, wider this time. “I see,” he says in a softer voice.
There’s a trickle of discomfort down the back of my neck. He’s studying me like I’m a specimen in one of his jars, an experiment, instead of a person.
He clears his throat again, rolls up the sleeves of his lab coat, and offers a hand. “Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Dr. Troy, resident Mardenite expert, head of the department of evolutionary sciences.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say, shaking his hand and giving him what I hope is a warm smile. His palm leaves a sticky residue of sweat on my skin.
“You’ll take her from here?” Waller asks. “She’ll need an escort out of the area when she’s finished.”
“Yes, I’ll take care of it,” Dr. Troy says.
The door zips shut after Waller’s gone. With a sweeping motion of his arm, Dr. Troy gestures for me to follow him to the stairs. He seems twitchy. I can’t tell if he’s nervous or excited. He must not get visitors often.
“So, you want to see our Mardenite,” he says. “Any particular reason why?”
To find a way to end the war that doesn’t involve killing thousands of innocent people.
I shrug. “Not really. Just curiosity. I’d like to know what we’re fighting.”
“A very good reason. It’s always a smart idea to try to understand our enemies.” Instead of a security code, Dr. Troy uses his thumbprint to open the glass door at the top of the staircase. He flips a light switch on in the next room.
A blue glow fills the darkness, emitting from three glass tanks in the center of the room. Each is a cylindrical shape at least three times my size. The far left and right tanks are empty, but the one in the middle has something inside it.
The alien is curled up in the fetal position and tangled in tubes, floating in the water. It almost looks like it’s dead; the alien’s skin is shriveled up. I take careful steps toward it, my heartbeat thrumming in my fingertips. I’ve seen a Mardenite before, of course, on the hillside after the hovercraft crashed. But it was much farther away. This one is separated from me by glass, but I can’t help worrying it will still be able to harm me.
A foot away from the tank, the alien opens its eyes. I freeze in my tracks. Two fiery red eyes stare at me, unable to blink because they are lidless.
I’ve seen those eyes before, this close.
Slowly, the alien unfolds its limbs and stretches out in the water. It has a humanoid body structure: two legs, two arms, two feet, two hands. But it has gills where it should have ears, and its hands and fingers are webbed. Its skin is clear, almost gelatinous, with thin blue blood vessels visible underneath.
Vul. That’s what Beechy called this creature when he showed him to me in another tank in the Core, a tank far bigger than this room. He told me the vul had been discovered in the ocean on the Surface with others of its kind, but they attacked us and we had no choice but to wipe most of them out. Neither Beechy nor I had heard of Mardenites back then; all we knew is the lies we’d been taught.
“This is the Mardenite?” I ask.
“Among scientists, we refer to them as the vul, which is short for their scientific name, vulyn sabius,” Dr. Troy says. “But yes, this is the Mardenite we captured in the last war. His people call him Tessar which, roughly translated, means ‘savior.’ They worship him because his birth brought forth a great flowering of life on their world. They believe he’s a source of creation in the universe. He’s been alive for centuries, his cells regenerating at an alarming rate. The genetic makeup of the vul is truly astounding. They’re able to adapt and thrive in both saltwater conditions and on land.”
The Tessar must’ve been transferred here recently, I bet soon after the Developers realized Marden’s army was coming. They wanted to be able to keep a closer eye on him.
I walk slowly around the tank. The Tessar spins in the water to follow my movement, his unblinking eyes glued to my face. I wonder if he recognizes me at all.
“Can you communicate with him?” I ask Dr. Troy.
“Yes,” Dr. Troy says. “I have a basic grasp of the vulyn language, but the Tessar hardly uses it. Mostly he doesn’t vocalize at all. We communicate through gestures, or he responds to commands I give him in Kielan.”
The vul inside the tank tilts his head, watching me curiously, slowly kicking his webbed feet to keep himself off the bottom of the tank. The tubes he’s tangled in are connected to his stomach, some sort of catheter tube. Maybe to give him nutrients. Maybe because he could escape otherwise.
I take another step closer to the tank. Commander Charlie said the Tessar is much too powerful to be released from his prison, this creature the Mardenites believe is the source of life in the universe. Are the Developers afraid it’s true?
“Would you say he’s dangerous?” I ask.
“He won’t be escaping anytime soon, if that’s what you mean,” Dr. Troy says. “The vul have exceptional strength, so we’ve had to take measures to keep the Tessar weaker than he normally would be.”
They’ve been starving him. If I look closely, I can see bones poking through the vul’s gelatinous skin.
“So, yes, in some ways he is very dangerous,” Dr. Troy continues. “The vul are a genetically advanced race compared to humans; there is no denying it. But in all the years I’ve spent observing the Tessar, I can’t say I’ve seen many signs of him having a particularly vicious nature. He’s a curious creature, but mostly a docile one. At least, he is smart enough to know fighting won’t get him anywhere. And he knows the Developers would order his execution if he caused any real damage.”
“I’m surprised they’ve kept him alive this long,” I say. “Especially knowing the Mardenites might come back for him.”
“Well, the Mardenites don’t know the Tessar is still alive. We spread word that he was executed after we captured him during the last war.”
The vul in the tank swims closer to me, its lidless eyes piercing mine. He’s so close I could touch him without moving my feet if there wasn’t glass between us.
If the other vul don’t know he’s still alive, they didn’t come to Kiel to rescue him. Unless they somehow discovered we lied about his execution. Either way, I still don’t understand why they’re capturing Kielans instead of killing us.
I need to somehow communicate with the Tessar and see if he can tell me anything more about the vul than what Dr. Troy learned from his observations and old war records. But I can’t do it with Dr. Troy in the room, or he’ll tell Commander Charlie everything.
“If you have any more questions, I’m happy to answer them,” Dr. Troy says. There’s eagerness in his eyes.
He’s not going to leave me alone. Not without some prodding, at least.
“Do you believe the Tessar is really a god?” I ask.
Dr. Troy chuckles. “No, I can’t say I do. I’ve spent most of my life observing the Tessar, and I’ve seen him do some … strange things. But not enough to believe he’s a creator of the universe.”
A memory tugs at me as the Tessar continues staring at me, his webbed feet still moving slowly in the water. He did something strange with his hands the last time I saw him. He pressed his fingertips together and they emitted a blue glow, and he let out a garbled noise that almost could’ve been speech. I had no idea what he was saying. But it seemed like he was trying to communicate.
“What sorts of things can he do?”
“Well…” Dr. Troy hesitates, seeming nervous. His cheeks are flushed red. “Yes, I think it’ll be all right if I show you. Let me grab some samples—I’ll be right back.” He rushes out of the room, barely giving me another glance.
I smile, pleased at myself, and then quickly return my attention to the tank. The vul is still staring at my face. Maybe I’m crazy, but I swear he knows who I am.
“My name is Clementine,” I say. “Do you remember me?”
The vul doesn’t make any sort of response. He just keeps staring at me. It’s eerie, the way they can’t blink.
How will he be able to give me any sort of information, if he can only respond with gestures? I suppose I’d better try anyway. Dr. Troy said he responds to commands given in Kielan, so he should understand my language, at least. I don’t know how much time I’ll have until Dr. Troy returns with the samples; I need to talk fast.
I take a deep breath and move a step closer to the tank, lowering my voice in case there are any security cameras that could pick up sound. “Listen, the reason I came to see you is because I need your help. Our peoples are at war; your kind has taken over the Surface and captured many of us. But the people they took were innocent. Most of them were prisoners of our leaders before you came, bred to be slaves. They had no part in our past conflicts. Do you know what your kind want with them? Why did they come here for war? If it’s revenge they want, the only people they should take it out on are the Developers, our leaders. They’re the real enemy. Not us.”
The Tessar continues staring at me. Frustration riles up inside me, but I force it back down. I have to stay calm, or there’s no way he’ll want to help me.
“Please, you have to tell me what you know,” I say. “The Developers are planning something that’s going to wipe out every last one of the vul in your army, as well as my friends you’ve taken prisoner. I want to stop them, but I don’t know how. Maybe, together, we can find a solution. Maybe no one else has to die.”
The vul looks over his shoulder in the direction Dr. Troy went. I can’t see him through the door. I’m worried he’s almost coming back.
Turning back to me, the vul opens his mouth and a string of noises comes out. Hisses and clicks that almost sound like actual words, but the water garbles them.
“I’m sorry, I can’t understand you,” I say.
He raises two fingers of his right hand and beckons me forward. Running my teeth along my bottom lip, I do as he says. I stop a few inches in front of the tank.
Reaching his hand out, he presses his three fingers against the glass. He wants me to touch the glass too, but I hesitate.
What’s the worst that can happen?
Holding my breath, I align my middle three fingers with his. A blue glow emits from his hand the moment our fingers connect. It grows brighter and brighter, a wave of light encapsulating the two of us in a bubble that drowns out everything else.