Jupiter's Halo Book One: The Lies

Chapter Fifteen "The Unlikely Find"

The darkness of the room had been complete once he’d left the circle of light.

Aitkin had resorted to feeling his way along the walls, tripping heavily over the silent auto-surgeon, before finding the door.

To his surprise it was unlocked, but as he thought about it that made sense. He hadn’t been expected to leave the chair so what was the point of locking him inside the room?

Outside he’d found a long hallway. It was brightly lit, completely at odds with the chamber. There were other doors, spaced evenly down one side while the opposite wall was decorated with curving motifs that stretched across their smooth white surfaces.

He was surprised to see plants set on low plinths along the middle of the wide corridor. Living vegetation was a luxury seen only in the richest estates of Luna or the affluent city-states of Mars. 

Seeing them here, living things in a place so clearly made for death was unsettling.

He crept his way to the next door, hugging the polished wall and glancing over his shoulder constantly for any sign of pursuit.

There was no sound of alarms or running feet. Nothing but stillness and silence. It was disconcerting.

Aitkin reached the first door and pressed his ear against it, listening intently. There was no noise from inside. Perhaps someone was in there now, unconscious and silent in brief respite from the pain.

He wondered about opening it. About going inside to know for sure. It was a risk. He might find an ally, but then again he was just as likely to find another enemy. Maybe one stronger than Mylus had been. Aitkin could feel his strength returning but he knew it was fleeting. He wasn’t sure he would be able to best a more sturdy opponent.

Leaving the door he made his way silently to the next. The steps passed slowly, his attention on minimizing the sound of his progress while he scanned the ceiling and walls for any sign of security monitors.

The next door was silent again. He wondered if he’d been the only victim here. Surely that couldn’t be right.

Ahead the corridor turned a blind corner. There were two further doors between the turn and his current position and he thought about avoiding them and heading straight for it.

His attention was pulled to the next door by a roar of frustration. The voice was indistinct, the rooms clearly constructed to dampen the sounds within, but something about it was familiar.

Aitkin hurried to the door, his bare feet making squeaking noises as they rubbed the floor in haste. He checked the corridor again; still no sign of anyone searching for him. It wouldn’t be long, but so far his tenuous escape seemed to have gone unnoticed.

He pressed his ear to the door, trying to silence the thunder of rushing blood in his ears.

There were muffled grunts from inside and he thought he caught the end of an all too familiar question.

“-your name?”

Aitkin felt the anger rising. That implacable, uncaring voice. So similar to Mylus he could almost believe the old man was behind the door. It spoke as if the answer didn’t matter. As if the burning agony that would follow meant nothing.

Aitkin’s fists clenched.

Inside that room, someone else was living through the same nightmare he had endured. Someone like him. Someone strapped motionless into a chair and waiting for the pain that they knew would follow the round of repeating questions.

Could he intervene? Should he?

Aitkin pressed lightly on the entry lever of the door and found it gave under his hand. Unlocked.

He paused, waiting to hear more, waiting for something to make the decision for him. He should leave. He should take advantage of the undoubtedly small window he had and find his way out. He should leave whoever was inside the room to their unfortunate fate. He should leave…

“You think my name has changed since you last asked? Riddled with the Plague are you? Or just too stupid to remember what you’ve already been tol-arrrghhh!”

Aitkin’s decision was made.

There was no mistaking the voice. No mistaking the way it’s owner blithely refused to accept the seriousness of the situation it was in.

Johs.

Aitkin pushed hard against the door, flinging it open and throwing himself into the room beyond. The picture that greeted him was a mirror image of the chamber he’d left behind.

Darkness surrounded him but ahead was a single shaft of light. It shone down onto a figure strapped into a chair, partly obscured by the silhouette of another leaning towards the light to trace a blade across exposed flesh.

Johs was roaring in agony as the path of the knife set his nerves afire, his eyes shut tight, his jaw clenched so hard his teeth might shatter.

Aitkin’s entrance had not gone unnoticed by the Father. In the darkness, Aitkin could just see the change in his outline as he turned his head in surprise.

He didn’t give the man time to react.

Aitkin’s momentum brought him to the edge of the light, diving against the torturer and bringing him to the floor with Aitkin atop him. The knife in his hands skittered away into the darkness.

Aitkin didn’t waste the advantage surprise had given him. He slammed his fist down, feeling it connect against his opponent's jaw and hearing the cry of pain the contact elicited.

He punched again, aiming lower and then again to the head. His fury was overwhelming him. All the cold logic that had flowed through his mind when he stood over Mylus was gone.

He wanted to cause pain. He wanted to destroy the man below him. To punch and punch and go on punching until there was nothing left but shattered bones and pulped features.

He roared as his hands came down again and again, giving voice to the anger, the shame of his capture and the torment that followed. Now his balled fists fell together. There was no reason, no finesse, just the satisfaction of feeling them connect over and over. Pummeling the flesh, breaking the bones beneath with sickly crunching noises. He felt electric, thrilled, alive.

In his mind, Itona screamed at him. He could feel how desperately she wanted him to stop. The rising tide of red fury drowned her words as Aitkin let it fill him completely.

His hands continued their work; slamming down harder and harder and harder.

A voice broke through the mist shrouding his senses.

“Lieutenant. Sir! Aitkin!”

He stopped, holding his hands up and finally looking down on the man he had beaten. The body below him was still. The face a mess of blood, blackened bruised flesh and broken bones. Whatever this Father had looked like in life was unrecognisable now.

“I think he’s dead.” Came Johs’ voice from behind him.

Aitkin stared at the ruin he’d caused. His breath came in heavy gasps. He turned his hands over, seeing the damage to his knuckles and feeling the pain in his fingers for the first time.

His mind was frozen. He’d been berserk, given over to reckless abandon and uncaring of his actions. That wasn’t him. That wasn’t Aitkin Cassini. He didn’t know who it was, but the realisation he’d lost control so totally shook him to the core.

What had they done to him? What had they turned him into?

"I'm not gonna lie to you, sir, I don't know where you came from but I've honestly never been happier to see you. Took your bloody time though didn't you?" Johs added.

His voice pulled Aitkin back into the present. He might well have saved his friend from pain temporarily but they were both still in a great deal of danger. He had to act, save dwelling on his loss of control for another time.

Aitkin stood up, turning to see Johs beaming at him, blood spilled across his stomach and lap from a thin red line in his abdomen.

As he turned Johs’ smile crystalized.

“Hot outside is it?”

That was Johs. If there was light to be made of a situation he would find it. They were being held captive, he didn’t know where and had been horrendously tortured by the most notorious and shadowy organisation in the solar system and Johs was making jokes about nudity.

Aitkin leaned over his Sergeant and started to unclasp his restraints.

“I guess you weren’t expecting to see this much of me either eh, sir?.” He looked down into his lap. “Promise you won’t judge me when I get up, it’s cold in here.”

Despite the fog in his head and their surroundings, Aitkin felt himself smile.

“Do me the same favour, Sergeant and we can both promise never to speak of it again. Agreed?”

Johs nodded.

"When I retell the story you'll be hung like a horse, sir. Not that I'm looking of course." Johs added with mock haste.

“I think maybe if you get the chance to retell this story you should leave out the naked part altogether, Sergeant.”

Johs raised his eyebrows.

“Really, sir? You’ve got nothing to be ashamed of you know.” He chuckled.

“Kind of you to say, Sergeant, but there’s only one set of clothes readily available and I don’t think they’re likely to fit you.”

They both looked down at the deceased Father.

“Oh.” Johs said as it dawned on him.

Aitkin finished removing the straps holding the big Sergeant in place and clasped his forearm to help him onto his feet.

“Oh Luna that’s better!” Johs stretched his arms behind him, pushing his great chest forwards with a cracking noise. “I wasn’t made to be held down like that.”

“Maybe you’re just getting old.” Aitkin countered.

The banter was automatic, a familiar comfort to fall into as his mind reeled.

He looked around the room in search of the torturer's knife. His impact had knocked it somewhere into the darkness and finding it could take precious time they didn’t have. It was nowhere to be seen now. He dismissed it.

“Can you move with that wound?” He gestured to Johs’ belly.

Johs looked down.

“What, this little scratch? No fear, sir.” He narrowed his eyes, “I’m not so old that something like this is gonna slow me down.”

“Good. We need to go.”

“You know the way out then?” Johs couldn’t hide the hope in his tone.

He tried to sound jovial like it was just another day in the life of the marines, but Aitkin knew him well enough to see through the facade.

He looked his Sergeant in the eye.

"I don't, Johs." He said with sincerity. "I was in a room just down the hallway and there's a corner just outside that door that I haven't been passed." He started to pull roughly at the robes of the dead Father. "I don't know exactly where we are and I don't know how big this place is. We could be on a planet, a ship, a station. Anywhere."

Aitkin pulled the bloodied robes over his head. They were too small for him, leaving his ankles and calves bare where they’d reached to the floor on the Father. He shrugged them into place, smelling the sweat of another man in their fabric.

“So we don’t have a plan then, sir?” Johs asked.

“Not really, Sergeant, no,” Aitkin said. “All I’ve got so far is: figure out where we are and how we get out of here.”

“And if someone tries to stop us?”

Aitkin looked down again at the second man he’d killed. They were marines. They were trained to fight and to kill. They had been trained to know when not to as well, but his recent experience told him this was not one of those situations.

“Sir?” Johs prompted. “What do we do if someone tries to stop us?”

Aitkin looked back to his Sergeant.

“We send them to hell, Sergeant.”

Johs smiled wide again.

 “You always did know how to make me happy, sir.”