Jupiter's Halo Book One: The Lies

Chapter Twenty-Three "The Dark Temptation"

The scream of the Father was sweet music to his ears.

Aitkin let the body fall limply from his bloodied hands. It crumpled on the floor, lifeless.

He exhaled deeply. This was what they deserved. This was right. Just. He felt the adrenaline coursing through him, powering him forward, wiping away the fatigue and filling him with the energy he needed.

He would kill them all. Every last one. He would see their chambers empty, the screaming that filled their halls silenced.

“How many more, sir?” Johs asked from the distant doorway.

Aitkin turned to look at him. In the rectangle of light from the corridor, he was silhouetted, leaning in the opening, bracing himself against the wall for support. Behind him he saw her again, her face a mask of pleading, beckoning him to leave and follow her.

Aitkin shook his head to dislodge her vision from his mind. She was not real.

She had been there at every step, leading him downstairs he would not have found and back to the tiers of torture chambers. At first, he thought she was helping him, but with every kill he made she looked saddened like he was killing her hope.

When he reached the first corridor of cells she had beckoned him on further, her expression and body language urging him to follow when all he wanted was to break down the doors and s*******r the Father’s he found within.

Before long he realised she was leading him back. Back to his chamber and the body of Mylus he’d left behind. Back to the chair and the pain and the loneliness.

Back to his fear.

That was when he realised she wasn’t really here. She wasn’t really Itona. She was just a figment of his ruined psyche; an expression of his fear and self-loathing. He had to ignore her.

She was not real.

Johs repeated his question.

“How many more?”

He was weakened by his wound and the exertion of their journey through the Fatherhood’s hallways, but the big Sergeant was still ready to fight.

His question now was delivered with a fervent tone, eager to carry on spilling blood.

How many more? Aitkin didn’t know.

“All of them.” He whispered.

"We're not saving them, sir," Johs added, offhand.

Aitkin looked back at their latest rescue.

In the centre of this room’s light, bound tightly to a chair like all the others, a woman sat naked and bleeding. Her pale skin had been opened in a dozen places. Her eyes were closed, her head slumped against the chair’s restraints.

He couldn’t tell where she hailed from. She could be Deorum, she could be from the colonies or Jupiter’s Halo station, even Mars. Without speaking to her he would never know and in her current condition, she wasn’t going to say anything.

She needed the attentions of the auto-surgeon. She needed them badly, but since the first in Johs’ cell had failed to respond Aitkin suspected they would not be able to order it into action.

In the heat of their flight so far there hadn’t been the need to try for the other captives.

How many had it been? Ten, twenty? The rooms that went before had become a blur.

He’d forgotten all thoughts of escape, of concern over recapture. They’d killed more guards, raiding their kit as they went to replenish their ammunition.

Their flight through the upper tiers of torture cells had been headlong and without restraint. Aitkin had kicked open that first door to see a Father hunched over his victim, the light flashing from his blade as he worked his way across exposed flesh.

Aitkin’s rage had taken over. The man died with barely a sound, strangled by Aitkin’s hands as he stared into pleading eyes and felt no mercy.

What he felt was retribution.

What he felt was good.

The next door had followed in a similar manner. Then the next and the next and the next. Some were empty, dark and silent.

In the ones that were occupied each cowled, robed Father had died at his or Johs’ hands as they swept along the corridors. Then down more stairs at the opposite end from the trans-terminal and on to another set of cells.

Every Father they encountered died. Every guard they saw was gunned down or beaten to death. They were unstoppable in their fury.

But the captives all died too.

They were too badly injured, too deeply abused to survive without medical attention that Aitkin and Johs couldn’t give. In their wake, they left a trail of the dead; torturers and tortured alike.

They had to keep going. Every Father had to die. They may not be saving lives but they were ending the pain. That was something. That was worth it. They would find someone they could save, someone alive enough to leave this dark place with them. Even if they didn’t there would be countless souls who would now never be taken into one of these evil chambers. That was why. That was the reason they had to keep going.

“We can’t stop, Johs.” He said numbly. “We can’t stop.”

"Wouldn't dream of it, sir."

Johs smiled; a dark, twisted parody of the infectious grin Aitkin was so used to seeing. His expression spoke of the need to continue that burned within them both. The need to do harm to those so deserving and rid the solar system of their pestilence.

Johs looked almost feverish in his desire to carry on. He turned to step out into the bright hallway and his legs faltered. He tried to balance himself, reaching out to the doorway and missing its edge with his questing hand.

Johs pitched forward, crashing to the floor. Aitkin ran to his friend and knelt to take him by the shoulders and roll him onto his back.

Johs’ face was pale from blood loss and his eyes rolled as he tried to focus. Aitkin lifted his head and slid his arm beneath to support it.

"Stay with me, Sergeant." He said the words automatically, feeling nothing inside but impatience to carry on the s*******r.

Johs looked at him with bleary eyes.

“Sorry, sir,” He said weakly, “Seem to have lost my footing there for a moment.” He coughed and Aitkin saw the tinge of pink in his saliva. “I’ll be right in a minute. Just… let… me… get back on my… feet.”

Johs struggled to pull himself up onto his elbows. Aitkin helped pull his weight up and leaned back on his haunches as Johs righted himself.

The wound in his stomach was clearly more serious than just a cut to his flesh. Johs was tough, tougher than most. He wasn’t giving in and Aitkin could see they wouldn’t get much further before the Sergeant was in real trouble. That was a problem.

He wanted to go. To leave Johs with the promise of return and continue slaking his unquenchable thirst for blood. The Fathers blood, their guards, anyone who helped them. It didn’t matter.

But another part fought back the urge. A part that seemed tiny almost lost beneath the red waves of anger. It was the part that told him he needed Johs. He needed help, he couldn’t do this on his own. He couldn’t leave his friend to die.

There was one more door on this tier. Just one more cell to open and possibly one more Father to kill. Inside the desire to help his friend warred with the bloodlust that had driven him this far. Aitkin wanted to open that door.

The voice inside, the old Aitkin, started to get louder. While Johs had seemed fine the overwhelming need to chase down every Father had been everything. The two of them had raged through the hallways, killing as they went. He was righteous, unburdened, without remorse or guilt.

Now Aitkin could see how perilously close to the edge his friend really was, the flood of hot emotions inside him was beginning to dilute. He wanted to hurt the Fatherhood. He wanted to destroy them utterly, but he couldn’t sacrifice Johs to do it.

The darkness in him dragged his attention back to the door.  He could feel the desire burning inside.

Just one more door and then they’d find the way out. Just one more death and then he’d save Johs. Just one more.

Johs winced as he pushed himself to a sitting position and gave Aitkin a wan smile.

“I can go on, sir.”

Aitkin glanced up at the end of the corridor and then back to Johs. There could be a working auto-surgeon behind that door. That was a good reason. If he left it and Johs’ injury worsened they were unlikely to get another chance to heal him.

He had to open that door.

He had to.

It was for Johs. There may be a Father within, there may be a need to kill, but that wasn’t why he was doing it.

It was for Johs…

“Stay here,” He said. “I’ll check the last chamber and then we’ll find a shuttle or a ship. Something to get us out of here and back to Luna.”

Johs’ smile broadened a little.

"That sounds like a good plan. Seeing Luna again would be a real tonic, sir."

Aitkin patted him on the shoulder distractedly. The hunger was calling him. The door was calling him.

“You’ll see Luna again, Johs.” He said

Johs gave a little laugh that deteriorated into coughing.

“I’ll hold you to that, sir.” He said as his spluttering faded.

The anger inside Aitkin was still simmering. It wasn’t the raging fire it had been a few moments before, but it was still there. The Sergeant was bringing him back, making him feel like himself again. He’d been lost in his rage, in his need for vengeance. Now he could feel that slipping away as his concern for Johs overrode it.

His friend needed him, needed help that only he could give and Aitkin had put that need aside to satisfy his own unpleasant desires.

They had broken him. Not in the way they wanted, but in a deeper, more disturbing way that had changed him. If it wasn’t for Johs he didn’t know what sort of monster he might be.

“Just one more door, Sergeant.” The desire was ebbing but it hadn’t gone.

He couldn’t leave it. He couldn’t. It was for Johs.

“I’ll wait here if you don’t mind. Just need a minute to get my breath.” Johs looked around, “And this is such a nice spot after all.”

Aitkin patted him again and stood.

“I’ll be right back.” He said.

Johs flicked a lazy salute as Aitkin walked away. The door was only a few steps ahead. He pressed his ear to it, listening intently.

There was no screaming, not like he’d heard so many times in these halls, but there was a murmuring. Behind that door, there was a conversation happening. That could mean he was too late. Whoever was in there might already be too broken to understand the prospect of escape.

It didn’t matter. Someone, no matter what state they were in, was behind that door and he was going in.

Aitkin took a step back and kicked hard. He let his momentum pull him on as the door gave way and stormed into the darkness beyond.

The scene was like so many he had already witnessed; a shaft of light, a robed Father outlined against it and a victim secured to a chair.

There was a difference though. The auto-surgeon in this room was not sat quietly in the dark. It was humming gently as its apertures worked on the grimacing woman in the chair.

Her eyes were shut tight, her teeth clenched as the surgeon stitched the flesh of her forearm. The open tear becoming a neat white line as he watched. She was mumbling to herself; some litany of faith to give her strength against the pain.

The Father was turning at the sound of the door crashing open. In the darkness, Aitkin could see only the white of his surprised eyes.

Aitkin dived across the gap between them, wrapping an arm across the man’s chest and neck as he stepped behind him. He twisted the body, tightening his grip and seizing the wrist of a hand that held yet another dark blade.

Aitkin turned his hand, bending the wrist he held back and forcing a cry of pain as the knife dropped from straining fingers. It fell to the floor with a clatter. The woman’s muttering stopped.

Aitkin wanted to keep going. He wanted to grip the head before him and twist it hard, hearing the snap of bones and feeling the balm to his torment of another monster slain.

If he did that though Johs might well be lost. The auto-surgeon could save him. It could fix whatever damage he’d suffered in moments. They’d seen enough of the dormant machines to know it would only respond to the Father’s commands.

“Release me!” The man choked the words out enraged.

He struggled in Aitkin’s arms and Aitkin redoubled his grip, pressing against the Father’s throat to cut off his air.

“I’m not tied to a chair,” He said as the Father struggled against him. “So you might want to think about who’s in control here before you make any more demands.”

He pulled the man’s arm behind him, twisting it hard up his back and hearing the scream of pain as he felt the bone break.

“That’s just a little taste.” He whispered. “Keep struggling. You’ve got three more limbs.”

The Father was whimpering in agony, but Aitkin felt his body sag in defeat. Obviously the torturers were not accustomed to receiving the kind of treatment they dished out.

“This isn’t going to help you.” The man said, his pain apparent in his shaking voice. “You can’t escape this place. Do you even know where you are?”

Aitkin pulled the broken arm higher and smiled at the strangled cry the movement elicited.

“I don’t think that should be your most immediate concern.” He said darkly. “Now, there’s a man outside who needs that auto-surgeon.” Aitkin moved to direct the Father’s view onto the machine. “I assume you understand failure to comply will result in a great deal more pain.”

There was no reply.

The auto-surgeon had finished its ministrations on the woman and gone silent. Aitkin could see how she stared up at him with wide, unbelieving eyes.

Maybe she thought this was some kind of dream. If he’d seen something similar when he was still under Mylus’ knife he wouldn’t have believed it was real.

“I’ll be back for you.” He said to her.

She nodded mutely.

Aitkin swung the Father around to face the open door.

“We’re going for a little walk. Bring the surgeon.”

He pushed forward, feeling the resistance until he twisted the arm in his grip again. The Father made a choking sound and from behind Aitkin heard the auto-surgeon buzz as it came out of its standby mode and began to trundle after them. There were no words, no orders given. That could only mean one source of control for the machine.

He’d found a survivor. Someone he could genuinely save from this place. He didn’t know how they would get out, or even if they could, but he could feel the flame of hope splutter into life inside him again.

Johs would be fixed by the auto-surgeon. They would take the woman from her chair and resume their search for an exit. The odds were still against them, but now he thought he could see the light ahead. For the first time since he’d awoken to Mylus’ blade, he felt like there was a chance they really could escape.

The dark yearning to continue killing still pulled at him and Aitkin fought the temptation to end the Father as they walked through the darkness to the open doorway.