Darken the Stars - Amy A. Bartol Page 0,99

recognize him. He’s one of the laboratory staff who had helped perform the procedure to remove my reproductive organs in the alternate time line. Before, he made several sullen complaints about the sloppiness of the other technician. It angered him that his colleague had messed up while creating a new batch with the eggs they had harvested, and it was left to him to exterminate several male offspring as a result.

I blink a couple of times while the technician adjusts the vial strapped to my arm. “Dobrey,” I murmur his name. My voice is thick, like I’ve been asleep for a while. He flinches hearing it, immediately moving away from me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” He reaches for a tranquilizer gun, his hand shaking a little. “I have a plan! You’ll never have to kill another batch!”

He pauses. His blue eyes squint at me. “What are you talking about?” he asks.

“I know you’re being forced to do what you do. I know that the moment you stop doing it, you die. If Excelsior is made the emperor of Ethar, you’ll be made to kill on a scale that no one has seen before. You know what I’m talking about, don’t you?” I whisper.

“It’s that virus they’re working on in the lab next to ours, isn’t it?” he asks in a whisper so we’re not overheard.

I don’t really know what he’s talking about now, but I pretend that I do. “It is,” I tell him. “If you untie me and help me get out of here, I promise to get rid of Excelsior.”

He straightens, like I’ve said something completely ridiculous. My mark isn’t falling for it. I try again. He picks up a syringe gun full of clear liquid. “Forget that I said anything. Letting me go will get you in trouble,” I say, as if I care what happens to him. “You should just do whatever you came here to do. What did you come here to do?” I need to know what they’re planning in order to formulate a plan.

“Excelsior ordered me to administer RU7 to you.”

“What’s RU7?”

He holds up the syringe gun of clear fluid, “It’s an interrogation drug.”

“What does it do?” I ask.

“It makes you see the stars,” he says. “And tell the truth.”

“He’s going to make me tell him the truth?” I ask.

“Among other things,” Dobrey admits. He takes a step toward me.

I hurry and ask, “How long have I been here?”

“I don’t know. A couple of rotations I guess.”

“Why have I been asleep so long?” I cringe, wondering if they took out my organs and then healed me.

“They’ve been preoccupied. They’ve been fighting with your consort, Kyon Ensin.”

“Fighting how?” I ask.

“Fighting for their lives,” Dobrey admits. “He’s been killing off all the Brothers not present in the compound. We’re all on lockdown.”

“Why am I still alive?” I ask. In the future, I would’ve already been executed.

“Well, you probably won’t be soon. Excelsior has promised to send Kyon your head if he doesn’t submit to the Brotherhood at your trial.”

“When is my trial?” I ask. This is new. He never put me on trial in the future. Have I managed to change things just by writing a note to Kyon on the mirror? The problem is that I don’t know if I’ve changed anything for the better, although, it probably can’t be much worse than before. Maybe.

“Your trial is this rotation.”

“Will my trial be public?” I ask.

He shakes his head vehemently. “No. Never. No one is allowed into the chamber with the Brothers. It’s secret. They have their rituals in there.”

“But that’s not fair! They can do anything they want and no one will know about it.”

“I think that’s the point. If it’s any consolation, your execution will be public.”

I know he’s right. I’ve already been to one of my executions in the future. I don’t think I want to be at this one, too.

“Aren’t you curious to see what goes on in there?” I ask. “There has to be a way that I can record it for you.”

“Why would I want to get involved in that? It’s none of my business!”

“If there’s one thing I know about men like Excelsior, it’s that they like to talk. He’s going to say a lot more interesting things to me than I’m going to say to him at my trial—things that will make people mad, Dobrey. If you could somehow leak my trial, I doubt you’ll have to show up for work on Fitzmartin

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