The Shape of Surrender

Silence came from the communicator, Tor’laen holding the device to his ear.

“She was Taken.” Nalyra’s voice came after the pause, more of a statement than a question.

“She still is, from what I can tell,” the Ydani replied, looking over at the restrained Zakkili. She still flexed and pulled against her restraints, struggling futilely. “She snaps at anyone that gets too close. Lunges at them, even.”

“And that is why you need the High Priestess?”

“That’s what I was told.” He glanced at the peacekeepers. “They said it would take a Noble to undo that level of Taking.”

There was another pause from the other end of the call.

“...this is a disturbing turn of events.” The Crown Daughter’s voice was low, almost a growl. “However, a Taking of this strength all but confirms that these attacks are connected to the death of my sister.”

“The question is why?” This time Vessa’s voice came from the communicator, the device connected directly to the CIC of the Aegis. “This feels too…random. Too messy. What was even the purpose of this attack?”

“Morale,” Tor’laen answered without hesitation. “At least the immediate effect of it. It’s already stretched to the breaking point down here, and this doesn’t help.”

“If they can start causing riots, that would make moving around unseen a whole shitload easier.” Mikka’s voice chimed in.

“To do…what exactly?” Tor’laen could hear the frustration in Nalyra’s voice, a rare crack in the Crown Daughter’s control. “What is their aim? What prize do they seek?”

“We’re on the back foot now.” The Ydani furrowed his brow, churning the current situation around inside his head. “But we still control the board. I’ll continue with the tour down here, and try to keep the citizens calm. We cannot withdraw in response to this. We cannot send that message.”

“Then proceed with your course, Tor’laen,” came Nalyra’s response, her voice back to that imperious certainty. “Keep the Aegis updated on any developments.”

“Understood.”

A soft beep notified him of the call ending, and the Ydani slid the communicator back into his belt. He turned to look at the entrance of the water purification plant, now reinforced by three more squads of peacekeepers, forming a perimeter. Inside the building, the engineers were hard at work, fixing the minor damage the attack had ended up causing.

Overall, it had been a very lucky thing. The damage was mostly cosmetic, and the engineers had assured him that the plant would be able to continue operation without any downtime. In addition, the one peacekeeper who took a bullet would recover in time, already on her way to the hospital.

A small commotion caught his attention, and he recognized the robed figure being escorted in. Even surrounded by peacekeeper escorts, High Priestess Soreth carried herself with a sense of dignity and poise. A much different impression than when he first met her. The main church was close enough to the civic district that the peacekeepers had gotten her there quickly.

Tor’laen moved to stand by the restrained shooter, careful to keep himself out of lunging range of the woman’s teeth. Soreth’s expression flickered for a moment when she saw him, but the priestess said nothing.

“This is the woman, High Priestess,” Saia announced, coming to stand on the other side of the prisoner.

“Yes. In the name of the Maker, let us free this woman from her prison,” she said quietly, making some kind of gesture with her hands, which Saia copied. The priestess's eyes flicked to Tor’laen. “...Ydani, I ask that you hold her down.”

“Understood.”

Soreth flinched only the slightest bit at the sound of his voice. She regathered her composure and knelt down next to the prisoner, as Tor’laen seized the bound woman by her shoulders, forcing her to remain still as she struggled in his grip.

Closing her eyes as if praying, Soreth laid a gentle hand upon the top of the woman’s head. The Ydani watched as several of the priestess’s crownthreads stretched toward the victim as well, mesmerized as they swayed back and forth.

Soreth’s delicate brow furrowed, and the bound woman went rigid in his hands. There was a strange stillness in the air around them, one that Tor’laen thought probably didn’t match the extreme psychic struggle he imagined was happening inside this woman. The seconds stretched into marks, with the priestess remaining as still as the prisoner.

Finally, Soreth opened her eyes, sagging back slightly.

“It is done.”

As if responding to the priestess’s voice, the bound woman started to shake and seize, trembling in the Ydani’s grip. Saia was quick to undo the woman’s restraints before she hurt herself, while two peacekeepers moved in to keep her from striking her head against the floor as Tor’laen gently set her down. She squirmed and writhed on the ground, clawing at her head and moaning — a low, heartrending sound.

The woman seemed beyond inconsolable, almost feral with pain and fear. Saia shook her head.

“She’s going to need a lot of mental rehabilitation,” she said in a low voice. “By the Maker, I hope it’s actually possible for her to recover.”

“The Maker cares for all her children.” Soreth’s voice was gentle, maternal even, and she laid a hand on the prone woman’s head. After a moment, she calmed slightly, stopping her thrashing.

Tor’laen could only stare. Was this the aftermath of being Taken like that? The idea horrified him. To not only have your body puppeted, but to have your mind ravaged by the experience as well. His mind instinctively went back to the Queen, and her Burning of his language. He shuddered.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Whatever Soreth had done to the woman, it had worked. She was now only giving low sobs and twitching slightly, as if in a troubled sleep rather than a seizure.

“High Priestess…” Saia began slowly. “I must ask that you Delve her mind.”

“You would have me violate this woman’s inner world a second time this day?” Soreth asked sharply, looking up at the corporal.

“Maker knows I don’t want to ask you to do it, but…” She gestured to the building and peacekeepers around them. “We need to know who did this. People nearly died here today, and next time it could be even worse. Much worse. You’re the only one with the strength to do it here. Please.”

The High Priestess stared at Saia for a long moment, her gaze hard. Finally, she spoke.

“I understand.” She gently brushed a hand through the woman’s hair, pulling the prone Zakkili’s head onto her lap. “Please forgive me, Maker, for what I must do this day.”

Soreth closed her eyes once more, laying a hand on the woman’s forehead. The victim still twitched and shifted at times, but she seemed closer to unconscious than waking, barely reacting. The High Priestess was still for nearly a mark, her expression slowly growing more concerned.

Finally, she opened her eyes, staring down at the woman in her lap. For a long moment, she was still, just staring down at the victim.

“Sergeant, please bring this woman to the hospital as soon as possible,” the priestess requested, her voice gentle. “She is truly only a victim this day, and needs psychic treatment immediately.”

The sergeant made that same hand gesture that Soreth and Saia made, and signaled some of her nearby troops.

The peacekeepers jumped in to assist, moving the prone woman onto a nearby waiting stretcher. Soreth got to her feet, moving away from the soldiers, to an empty part of the room. She turned, and beckoned to Saia, and, after a moment’s hesitation, Tor’laen as well. The pair approached her.

“Could you find out who did this?” the corporal asked, keeping her voice low.

“No.” The priestess shook her head. “Whoever Took that woman Burned the memories of the Taking out of her mind.”

“So, there was no information?” Tor’laen asked, and Soreth’s eyes darted to his face for a moment.

“No, there were memories inside, but…” She hesitated, biting her lip lightly. “They were not hers.”

The statement was met with a heavy silence.

“What do you mean?” Tor’laen finally asked.

“There were memories in her head. An unused building, a group of people making bombs, planning attacks. But this woman didn’t have those experiences. Those memories were placed there, likely by the one who originally witnessed them.” Soreth’s voice was quiet, urgent.

“They gotta be fake then, right?” Saia crossed her arms.

“No, Corporal. Believe me, those memories were very real, someone’s true recollections. However, they had no connection to the rest of her mind and memories. No before, no after, no emotional imprint that matched her. ” The High Priestess’s expression was grim. “This was very sophisticated work. Without completely destroying that poor woman’s mind, they Took her, Burned the memories of it out, and Burned new ones in. No amateur could accomplish this.”

“So someone wanted us to find them. This has to be a trap,” Saia growled. “They knew we were going to get someone in here to remove that Taking, and they had to assume we’d have that person Delve into her mind as well and find this. Most obvious bait I’ve ever friggen heard of.”

“Even if it is a trap, we must spring it,” Tor’laen said slowly.

“What in the Maker’s name are you talking about, man?” Saia looked up at him, skepticism clear on her face.

“Even if they wanted us to find them, these memories are the most solid lead we’ve gotten so far,” the Ydani explained. “We must take this chance. Bombs being made, plans being formed…sooner or later these attacks will worsen, and citizens will die, caught in the crossfire. We can control the approach, the area around the site — we have the Citadel’s support.”

“Damnit.” Saia gritted her teeth. “Damnit, you’re probably right. I need to go contact the Lieutenant Commander.” She pulled out her communicator, moving away from the other two.

Tor’laen watched her go, faintly aware of Soreth staring at him from the side. He wasn’t quite sure how to interact with the woman, or where she stood in the chain of command. Were priestesses even part of the Citadel’s command structure? They certainly seemed important.

“Ydani,” she said after a few moments. “Have you visited the chapel aboard the Aegis?”

Tor’laen looked down at her, blinking in mild surprise. That was not what he had been expecting.

“...I have not, no.”

“I would suggest that you do, when you return to the Citadel,” Soreth said solemnly. “The Maker’s grace extends to all of her children, not just Zakkili.”

Was that…an invitation? He searched her gaze, looking for some kind of familiar motive. There was nothing else there. Just faith.

“I…I will take it under consideration,” the Ydani replied after a moment.

“That is all I ask.”

The High Priestess fell silent, apparently content with his answer. The Ydani resisted the impulse to stare at the woman, turning away instead. He was saved from slightly uncomfortable silence by the return of Saia.

“No real surprise, Mikka agrees with you.” The corporal grinned at Tor’laen. “She sounded almost giddy over the communicator.” Saia turned to Soreth. “High Priestess, can you give us the location of the building?”

“I believe I can.” She nodded. “Whoever did this wanted this place to be found. It is in the industrial district.”

“If you could come over this way, I’ll get a map, and you can point out the location…” The corporal led Soreth away, back toward the cluster of peacekeepers milling about.

Tor’laen watched them go for a moment, then turned, locating the group of civil officials. He strode over, Nekiin trotting out to meet him.

“Circumstances have changed. I’m afraid we must delay the rest of the inspections for the day, Nekiin.”

“Has…has there been some kind of development?” The Zakkili asked, eyes darting around nervously.

Right, he was still dealing with untested civilians here. It was easy to forget.

“There has. A very positive one, but that’s all I can say at the moment.” He squared his shoulders. “The Citadel will contact you when we decide on a time to resume.”

“Yes, Representative. I will look forward to hearing from the Saint’s Aegis.” Nekiin gave a nervous nod, then scurried away.

Tor’laen watched him go, returning to the cluster of civil officials.

As he turned back, a soft chime came from his communicator, and the Ydani fished the device from its place on his belt. A single text communication was on the screen, sent from Mikka.

Nice work, big guy. Time to hunt some fucking rats.