Ad Noctum: Chapter 4

“Oh, ‘pretentious,’ are we?” Rush purred. “Did you learn that word for me? I’m flattered.”

Chapter warnings: Stressors of all kinds. Abduction. Anxiety. Panic. Purposefully insensitive discussion of mental health issues. Boundary problems. Manipulation. References to torture. References to suicide.

Text iteration: Midnight.

Additional notes: None.

Chapter 4

Volker, Telford, and Rush stood in the transporter room. The dim gold walls were close and confining. The dull metal pressed on Volker’s mind like it was looking for weak spots.

“Just stick to what I told you,” Telford looked at Volker, his gaze dark and serious. “You’ll be fine.”

Volker’s mouth was too dry to reply. He nodded.

“Right here.” Telford pointed at a spot on the floor that was beside and a little behind his own shoulder, within the confines of the circle etched onto the floor.

Volker positioned himself as directed. This left him facing Rush, who had his back to the wall near the door. His stance was casual, his expression unconcerned.

“Rush,” Telford said. “Glasses.”

Rush removed his designer frames and tucked them inside his jacket with insouciant precision. He shook his hair back and gave Telford a superior smirk.

“Your attitude is gonna get you killed,” Telford said grimly.

Rush straightened. “Y’say that like it’s a bad thing.” He paced into the circle and positioned himself next to Volker. There was no trace of the terror Volker had seen earlier in either his expression or his bearing. There wasn’t so much as a hint of anxiety.

Maybe Rush had found something in the data during Telford’s “briefing.”

“When we make it back here,” Telford said, with a too-even cadence giving away his anxiety, “we’ll need to assume they left surveillance equipment behind, so act accordingly until I’m able to sweep for it.”

“Okay,” Volker said, a little worried that the idea of LA surveillance equipment hadn’t occurred to him until now.

“Rush?”

“Is your need for perpetual verbal confirmation a result of your military background or is it some—” Rush waved an imperious hand, “—personal quirk of your own?”

Telford exhaled, short and crisp. 

“What’s wrong with you?” Volker asked. It felt like someone had his heart in a vise and was turning the crank. “How can you be like this?”

“I’d work on improving your theory of mind, ‘Dale’.” Rush turned Volker’s name into an aspersion on his intelligence through tonal twist alone.

Volker wiped damp palms on leather pants and tried to think of something to say in response.

Rush waited a beat, then said, “Scintillating. Let’s get this over with, shall we?”

Telford clapped Volker’s uninjured shoulder and jostled him with what was probably supposed to be manly reassurance.

He was in NO way reassured.

He had no idea why Telford—who’d spent hours drilling him on his command of a relatively small number of facts about his cover story, who’d critiqued Volker’s word choice, his bearing, his demeanor, even what his eyes focused on—would allow Rush to go into the same situation with no guidance, no warnings, no attempt to bring his recklessness under control.

Maybe Telford had given up on Rush. Maybe that was the real reason Telford wasn’t willing to send Volker home.

Telford pulled out a small communication device. “Ready for transport.”

The rings surrounded them, solid, tonal, and uncomfortably close.

When the rings receded, Volker found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. Several other guns registered in his peripheral vision, but mainly he was concerned with the closest one. It was made of a dark silver material. The diameter of its barrel seemed unreasonably wide.

He was too shocked to do anything other than stand there, staring at it.

“Hands behind your heads,” someone ordered.

Volker hurried to comply, trying to mask a wince as the motion pulled at his stitches. A flicker of movement to either side told him Telford and Rush had adopted the same pose.

“Who the hell is this?” The man on the other end of the gun had deep-set eyes, hard and full of impatience. He jabbed the barrel of the weapon into Volker’s chest.

Volker couldn’t help flinching. He swallowed and tried to work some saliva into his mouth so he could answer.

“Dannic,” Rush said lazily. “Do us a favor and pull that trigger, won’t you? I can only stand so much inanity and that one’s not the sharpest. It’s possible he may be even stupider than you.”

Volker did his best to hang onto a stony, neutral expression. Had Rush seriously just told a trigger-happy Space Pirate to shoot him?

Dannic swung the gun to point at Rush. “I look forward to the day Kiva decides you’ve—”

“For fuck’s sake,” Rush broke in. “Fuckin’ spare me the fuckin’ rhetoric. Are you more eloquent in your native language? I’d like to believe that’s the case, but, try as I might, I find I can’t imagine—” Rush stepped back into Volker as Dannic lunged at him.

Volker made a little room and gripped the leather of the other man’s coat to keep him steady.

As Rush pulled out of Volker’s grip, Volker caught a flash of a disapproving side-eye.

“Knock it off.” A blond, powerfully built man dragged Dannic back.

“I feel sorry for you,” Dannic snarled at Volker. “How do you deal with this pretentious Tau’ri scum?”

Volker tried to look put-upon rather than terrified.

“Oh, ‘pretentious,’ are we?” Rush purred. “Did you learn that word for me? I’m flattered.”

The blond man had to yank Dannic back again. “What did I just say?” he growled in Dannic’s ear.

“Rush,” Telford said. “Enough.”

Slowly, everyone regained their composure, except for Rush, who’d never lost his.

“This is Dale,” Telford said into the quiet. He gave Dannic a pointed look. “I don’t think Kiva would be very happy if you shot him. He’s Sixth House. I picked him up to—”

“Why the hell is he here?” Dannic demanded.

“I picked him up,” Telford continued, cool and determined, “to help me around the ship. Rush is busy. And a shit shipmate.”

Rush huffed.

Telford, his stance relaxed, gestured at the array of guns still pointed at them. “Guys. C’mon. Isn’t this overkill? We’re unarmed. You know that. You scanned us.”

“We did,” the well-built blond confirmed. “And that scan confirmed there were three people aboard your ship.”

“Yes, and now you know why,” Telford replied.

“This isn’t the time to be testing Kiva,” the blond man replied, his voice brusque. “Your position is tenuous enough as it is.”

“Which is why we’re committed to completing the tasks she’s given us,” Telford said smoothly. “Dale’s presence will free up Rush to spend more of his time on achieving Kiva’s objectives.”

Everyone seemed to be focused on Telford, so Volker allowed his eyes to dart around the space they’d ringed into. They stood on a low platform, maybe five inches off the floor. They were in a massive room, surrounded by cylindrical containers with diameters that matched the diameter of the ring transporter.

Most of Volker’s attention, however, was on the group of six very armed, very capable people in leather outfits that fanned out in front of them.

“I’ve brought along Dale’s credentials,” Telford said, impressively calm and life-savingly reasonable. “You’ll find the contact information for his next of kin on the data chip in my left front pocket.”

The blond man lowered his weapon. He reached into Telford’s front pocket, then stepped back, data chip in hand. “All right.” He gestured toward the giant door of the giant cargo bay. “Let’s move.”

As Volker was marched through the halls at gunpoint, it was difficult to keep his eyes from lingering on the alien décor. The hallways were wide and gold. Torches burned in sconces. Torches! In space! Even more intriguingly, in his peripheral vision he picked up flashes of graffiti overwriting hieroglyphic engravings. Golden statues in shallow alcoves were melted, muzzled, defaced with horns, with gold arrow shafts welded to hearts and heads. It was tough to keep his eyes on the back of the leather jacket in front of him.

The vessel was immense. It took them over five minutes of walking to reach their destination.

To Volker’s dismay, that destination was a gilded jail cell.

“You’ll wait here,” the blond said, “until Kiva decides how to proceed.” Volker stepped past him, following Telford and Rush into the cell, but the man grabbed his arm. “Not you,” he amended.

Volker didn’t trust himself to speak.

“You better look at that chip,” Telford began. “Kiva won’t be happy if—”

“You let me worry about that.” The blond shoved Volker away from the cell.

Volker stumbled, saved it, and spent ninety-nine percent of his remaining willpower NOT looking back at Rush and Telford.

He walked in silence, followed and flanked by a leather-clad entourage.

Dannic turned to look him over. “Not much of a talker, are you?”

“Nope,” Volker replied.

“I like that,” Dannic said. “Maybe if Kiva decides to—”

“Go,” the blond man cut Dannic off. “Take the team. Start the prep, in case she wants to use it on one or both of them. Then report to Kiva.”

Volker felt a cold thrill go down his spine. The “prep?”

“Calvos.”The blond held up the data chip he’d gotten from Telford. “Get started on this.”

Everything was moving way the heck too quickly.

The rest of the personnel peeled away, and Volker found himself alone with the blond. It wasn’t until the other man raised his eyebrows that realized he’d been staring.

Crap.

That was exactly the kind of thing he wasn’t supposed to do.

“You’re not gonna give me any trouble, are you?” The blond looked him up and down.

“No,” Volker managed.

They stopped in front of a door. The other man hit the door controls. The room was small. A plain wooden table flanked by benches was the only thing in the room. It looked out of place, surrounded by the golden décor.

“Take a seat,” the blond man said.

Volker’s palms were damp. His fingertips tingled. His feet were numb. With difficulty, he forced himself over to the table.

“Relax, Dale. We know who you are, and why you’re here.”

Oh.

Oh god.

Volker’s heart hammered against his ribs. He stepped around the bench, nudged it out a little with his foot. Before he could sit—

“Varro.” The man held out his hand.

Volker stared at it uncomprehendingly, completely frozen, trying to guess when and where the torture would begin, and if this might already be part of it?

“Oh right.” Varro smiled and dropped his hand. “That’s a Tau’ri custom. I’ve been studying their culture.”

“Oh,” Volker said.

“They call it a ‘handshake’,” Varro said.

“Huh.” Volker kicked his brain into gear, hoping it would work for him, rather than freezing up and crapping out like a bad hard drive. Though, to be fair, his glitchy hard drive had probably just saved him from giving himself away via handshake.

They settled themselves on the benches.

Varro studied him without speaking.

Volker swallowed. “You said you knew why I was here?”

Varro nodded. “Telford is desperate to curry favor with Kiva, and he’ll stop at nothing to climb the ranks here. I’m guessing that when we vet your credentials, we’re gonna find you’re more than just Sixth House.”

“I’m no one important,” Volker said.

Varro just looked at him, pleasant and expectant.

“I’ve got a weak blood-tie to Kiva,” Volker said reluctantly.

Varro smirked. “I knew it.”

Volker cast around for something to say that wouldn’t reveal anything. The possibility he might escape being tortured made it easier to engage his brain. “So—what now?”

Varro shot him an appraising look.

Shoot. Had he somehow stuck his foot in his mouth? Maybe he should know what was coming? He tried to keep his face neutral.

“Anything you can tell me about them would be helpful,” Varro said.

“About them?”

“Yes. Rush and Telford.”

Crap.

He hadn’t been prepared for this, and neither had Telford apparently, because the possibility of Volker being questioned not about his own fictitious background but about Telford and Rush hadn’t even been mentioned.

“I joined up with them about a day ago,” Volker said truthfully. “That’s not much time to get acquainted.”

“And I’m sure that timetable wasn’t accidental,” Varro said almost to himself. “Just enough time to show you off, not enough time to allow you to gather any useful information. That’s Colonel Telford for you.”

Volker shifted in his chair, uncomfortable and more than a little concerned. Was it possible Telford was keeping him around so he could pass Volker off as a cousin of Kiva’s? Had he not sent Volker home because this particular ruse could save Telford’s life? Or Rush’s?

No.

No?

No.

Volker had to stay focused. He was in this situation because Rush had an impulse control problem, not because Telford had some kind of dark agenda. For all he knew, Varro was still trying to rattle him into giving something away, and this session was just as much about him as it was about Rush and Telford. He could evaluate the implications of whatever he learned later. Right now? He needed to stay alive and NOT break his cover.

“A master strategist,” Varro said. “Extremely capable in the field. But I’ve never been sure about his loyalties. I’m not the only one.”

Volker steeled himself, aiming for a delivery that hit as tough. “Oh yeah?” 

Varro nodded. “Where’d you meet him?”

“Rolan,” Volker said.

Varro raised his eyebrows. His tone turned a little too casual. “Rolan? Really. I know someone there.” His eyes flicked to Volker’s jacket.

Ice dumped itself down Volker’s spine. “Oh?”

“Goes by the name of Simeon.”

Volker took a beat, dug into the kind of academic annoyance he only pulled out when people were being mean to his graduate students, and said, “Tall? Bit of a temper? Jacket like this?” He tugged on the front of his own jacket.

Varro gave him a small smile. “That’d be the one.”

“We didn’t get along,” Volker said shortly.

“Not surprising.”

They studied one other in silence.

Varro asked, leaning back. His tone turned casual. “What do you think of Rush?”

Volker was halfway through a shrug when he realized he should convert it into a shoulder roll. “He’s arrogant. Seems a little crazy. Other than that, I can’t tell you much.”

“Do you know what he’s working on?” Varro asked.

“No,” Volker said.

“Personally,” Varro said, “I like him.”

Volker said nothing.

“I’ll miss his commentary.” Varro landed the line lightly, underselling the threat it contained.

Great.

“Kiva’s not happy with him?” Volker tried to keep any hint of desperation out of his voice.

Varro made a repetitive hand gesture that maybe indicated uncertainty. “Kiva’s not a happy person. Thought control usually outweighs the advantages of an unaltered mind. You know how it is.”

Volker tried to stay neutral. “Yeah.”

“You seem like a solid guy, Dale,” Varro said. “Seeing as you’re Sixth House, I’m sure we could find a place for you here once these two are reassigned if you’re interested.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Volker said neutrally. “Do you—” he cleared his throat. “You see that happening any time soon?”

“Hard to say,” Varro replied. “Someone’s been passing the Tau’ri information for months now. Kiva’s suspicious it’s these two. But—” Again, Varro made the equivocal up and down hand motion. “She needs Rush. For now.”

Volker nodded.

“I could guarantee you a spot with us in the future,” Varro said, “if you’d be willing to pass information back to Kiva about their movements, along with anything else you think we’d find useful.”

Volker did not want to accept.

Unfortunately, he had the feeling this was an offer “Dale” wouldn’t walk away from. He looked at Varro. He was sure his indecision must be written all over his face.

“It would be discreet,” Varro said. “We’d equip you with a Goa’uld communication device. They’re simple to operate. We wouldn’t expect reports at regular intervals. We’d happily accept any transmissions you sent our way.”

“I’d be reporting to Kiva?” Volker tried to hide his dismay and think himself out of the net closing around him.

Varro gave him a faintly amused look. “You’d report to me. And you’ll be compensated for your trouble in proportion to the value of the information you provide.”

Volker hesitated.

“If it makes a difference,” Varro said, “I don’t think Telford would kill you if he found you passing intel along behind his back. You’re Sixth House, and it would damage his relationship with Kiva. And it would be unusual for a member of the Tau’ri to kill a shipmate, except in self defense.”

Volker tried to force his face into something other than anxiety and dread. “All right then.”

“Good answer.” Varro reached into his jacket and pulled out a small silver sphere. He rolled it across the table.

Volker stopped it with his fingertips. It didn’t do anything but sit there, cool and silvery.

“It’s the small version,” Varro said, as if trying to address the uncertainty that was probably on Volker’s face, dang it.

Volker pocketed the device without inspecting it further.

The door swished open behind him.

Volker jumped. He turned and saw a girl with long red hair standing in the doorframe. 

Kiva?

Probably not. She didn’t look particularly menacing.

“Everything checks out,” the girl told Varro. “Kiva wants to see you when you’re done here.”

Varro nodded. “Ginn, this is Dale.”

“Hi.” The girl looked as nervous as he felt.

“Hi,” Volker replied.

“Can you escort him back to the holding cells?” Varro asked. “He can wait for his shipmates there.”

“Yes, of course.” Her hand came to rest delicately on her sidearm.

She reminded him of a graduate student.

A graduate student with a gun.

The walk back didn’t seem nearly as long. Probably because, though he was careful to be circumspect about it, he let his eyes wander a little more. He caught details he’d missed the first time around: hieroglyphs enclosed by an oval were most likely to be defaced; the gold deck plates vibrated subtly under his feet; the lack of windows; the way the girl in front of him scanned the tops of the walls.

There were recesses in the metallic molding where the walls met the ceiling.

They were probably being monitored.

They had almost reached the holding cells when she spoke. Her voice was low, and she didn’t look at him. “Dr. Rush,” she said. “Is it true he’s a scientist?”

“Yep,” Volker said just as quietly.

“He does nothing else?” she whispered. “That’s his primary designation?”

“I haven’t known him long,” Volker said, “but I think so.”

“If such a thing is possible with the Tau’ri,” she murmured, “why would he leave?”

“I don’t know.” Volker wondered if this, too, was part of his interrogation. Somehow, he doubted it. “Do you—” he had no idea how to talk about the Lucian Alliance scientific community, if there even was such a thing, “—like science?”

He very nearly clapped his hand to his face, but he caught himself.

So awkward. God.

Ginn stopped. She turned to look him in the eye, her expression tight and anxious.

“No,” she said, painfully earnest. “I’m interested in learning the use of military tactics to strengthen the Alliance to the best of my ability for the betterment of all worlds.”

“Oh, yeah,” Volker said. “Me too.”

Ginn started walking and didn’t speak again until they reached the holding cell.

“You may wait for your shipmates here.” Ginn opened the door and waved him through.

Volker stepped inside, then turned to look through the bars. As he watched her go, he wondered what she would have made of a college education and a life on Earth with the “Tau’ri.”

After maybe three hours (plus or minus two hours), they brought Telford back. 

Sustained tension had taken its toll. In the quiet of a Space Pirate cell, Volker nodded off, his back to a gold wall and his good hand bracing his injured shoulder.

He didn’t fight it, as it seemed like something Dale of the Sixth House might plausibly do while waiting.

The sound of the door controls woke him.

He looked up, blinking, as Telford was shoved through the door. The other man staggered, lost his balance, and fell on his side.

Volker lurched forward, still bracing his injured arm. He crouched next to Telford and was already reaching out to help the other man onto his back—

Hang on.

“Dale” was supposed to be a hardened member of the Sixth House of the Lucian Alliance. 

Schooling his features into an indifferent mask, Volker said, “Hey. Telford.”

The colonel looked terrible. He had a long gash on his cheek and an eye was swollen shut. He blinked at Volker. “Nick?”

“Nope,” Volker said. “It’s Dale.”

“I know,” Telford rasped, “who you are.” He took a measured breath.

“Oh,” Volker said.

“Where is he?”

“Not back yet.”

“Fuck.” Telford forced himself up on one elbow. He looked like he might be sick. “You’re okay?”

“Yeah. What—” Volker cut himself off before he could say anything revealing. “Can I…do anything?”

“No.” Telford collapsed back to the floor and curled on his side. “Don’t help me,” he breathed.

Volker backed away and took up his former position against the wall.

He couldn’t picture Rush outlasting Telford when it came to torture.

Last week, the worst thing he’d had to dread was the upcoming competing renewal for his NSF grant and the terrible emptiness of his personal life. God. He’d give anything to have those concerns back rather than this whole new set of impossible-to-face things.

Telford shut his eyes and dug his nails into the metal of the floor, as if he were trying to close his fist through the metal.

Had Telford been drugged? Had he been given the “prep” that Varro had mentioned earlier? What was the “prep” meant to prep for? How difficult would it be to tell if someone had been brainwashed? How long did it take? How did it happen?

Had it just happened to Telford?

Had it happened to Telford months ago? Years ago?

Would Telford know if it had happened to him? Or would it creep into someone’s awareness, slow and insidious, like an invisible block that could be mapped only by its borders?

His hand flew to the small sphere that Varro had given him. It was still tucked in his pocket. That, at least, was real. Could he trust any of what he remembered? Could he trust his own mind?

Rush had implied they’d killed themselves—those ruined scientists whom the LA had destroyed.

But when?

How long did it take them to realize what they’d become? Did they know? Were they told? Was it obvious? Did they remember? Or did they just have to figure out how to map and test their own borders, how to do it always, until one day they found an edge they couldn’t push beyond?

Was that what Rush was doing? Did that explain his behavior? His wild swings between reason and irrationality?

If so, was it his own borders he was testing, or Colonel Telford’s?

Volker sat with his circuitous thoughts for what felt like hours, until—

Across the room, Telford sat up. His eyes were on the cell door, his body full of tension.

“Hey,” Volker said. “You okay?”

Telford didn’t speak. He lurched unsteadily to his feet and motioned Volker up as well.

Volker scrambled up.

He waited, senses tingling, breath coming a little too fast.

Over the sound of his own heart pounding in his ears, he heard footsteps, echoing steady and sure over metal.

The footfalls came with a hard double click, as if made by high-heeled boots.

Telford’s expression was frozen and hard.

Volker stepped to his shoulder.

They faced the door to the cell.

She came into view, dressed in black leather. Her hair was black and her eyes were black and her dark collar was high and austere. Varro walked beside her and slightly behind, his expression full of deference.

Kiva.

She was severe. Beautiful. Terrifying.

She stopped outside their holding cell and gave Volker an appraising look. When she spoke, her voice was low. Almost friendly. “Cousin Dale. Welcome.”

Volker nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak. His palms were wet; his mouth was dry. Were things going well? Or about to go to hell?

“David.” Kiva took a lateral step and wrapped her fingers casually around the bars of their cell. “How are you?”

“A little roughed up,” Telford said. “Nothing some grain alcohol won’t fix.”

“Yes, I hear Dannic was somewhat exuberant during your interrogation, but he tells me your loyalty is above reproach.”

“Of course,” Telford replied respectfully.

Kiva stepped back, taking the barred door with her as she swung it wide, opening their cell. Volker fought down a surge of dread.

“You’re free to go,” she said.

Telford didn’t move. Volker followed his lead.

“What about Rush?” Telford asked.

“He’s waiting for you at the cargo transport.”

“In a box?” Telford asked.

“Hardly,” Kiva said. “I’m convinced of his loyalty as well.”

“Meaning?” Telford asked.

“Meaning I am convinced.” Kiva’s voice sharpened to a knife edge. Varro and Telford flinched.

Kiva’s eyes snapped to Volker, her attention captured by what was probably his inappropriate stillness.

He shot her a look that he hoped was a completely transparent window to the terror filling every inch of his body.

Kiva smiled faintly at him. “He doesn’t favor the Sixth House, does he, Varro?” She stepped toward Volker.

“His references check out,” Varro said. “He’s—”

“I heard. No need to repeat yourself.” Kiva took Volker’s jaw in hand, tipped his head one way, then the other. He fought the urge to flinch away. “The eyes, perhaps,” she said. “What house was your whore of a mother from?” 

“Fourth,” Volker said. “Fourth house.”

“Hm.” Kiva released him. “You take after her.” The sentence landed like a slap, hard and full of disdain.

“Yes.” To Volker’s surprise, he heard a hint of academic stubbornness in his tone. “I do.”

“Ah.” Kiva smiled. “There’s that Sixth House spine.”

Volker said nothing.

Kiva let him go. She caught and held Telford’s gaze. “Be careful.” With that, she stepped back, then strode away from their holding cell, back the way she’d come.

Volker released a shuddery breath.

“Come with me,” Varro started opposite the direction Kiva had taken. Telford and Volker fell into step behind him.

The walk to the cargo bay felt endless.

Near the same place where Ginn asked him about Rush, Telford picked up his pace, bringing himself near Varro’s shoulder. His question was almost too quiet to catch.

“Who was it?” Telford asked.

Varro hesitated. Then, with a glance at the recesses in the walls, “Kiva,” he said.

“The whole time?”

“Far as I know.”

Telford slowed, dropping back to walk beside Volker.

Volker tried to catch his eye, but Telford made it impossible.

When they reached the cargo bay, other than the two guards inside the doors with their dusky silver weapons, there was no sign of anyone else.

Volker tensed.

“Varro?” Telford’s tone turned dark, like the space between stars. His hand hovered at the holster he wasn’t wearing.

Varro’s eyes flicked to Telford’s stance. “You want to turn stupid now? Interesting.”

“Where is he?” Telford demanded.

“On the floor,” Varro said. “It was a long session. See for yourself.” Varro gestured them toward the ring platform.

Telford stopped, his eyes on Varro.

“I’ll admit,” Varro said, impatience, respect, and irritation mixing in his tone, “that I look forward to the day I shoot you in the back.” He gave Telford a thin smile. “But today ain’t it. Move.”

Telford waited a beat, then stepped ahead of Varro, approaching the platform.

As they cleared the last stacks of containers, Volker saw Rush. The mathematician was on the floor, on his back, eyes half open and visibly trembling.

Jeez. He did not look normal.

Volker looked at Telford for a little direction.

Telford pulled a breath through his nose. Let it out. He looked at Varro. “How the hell is he supposed to work like this? This will set us back by at least a day. At least.”

“Then it sets you back,” Varro replied. “Not my problem. Next meeting’s in three weeks. I’d recommend you show up with something real in hand.”

Telford sighed, then dropped into a crouch beside Rush. “Hey.” He jostled the mathematician’s shoulder. “Get up.”

Volker winced in sympathy before he remembered himself.

His glance darted to Varro, but Varro was looking at Telford with thinly veiled disgust.

“Rush.” Telford slapped the man.

Ugh.

Rush managed a pretty convincing go-to-hell glare for a guy in a shuddery heap on the floor.

“Get. Up.” Telford demanded.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me,” Varro said, “but it was a long session. He’s not standing anytime soon.”

“Dale,” Telford sighed, “give me a hand here, will you?”

Volker knelt, and together they dragged Rush to the ring platform, over its lip, and into the center of the etched circle. The whole thing was nerve-searingly awful. Volker tried not to focus on the feeling of his humanity draining out of his body. He kept his mind on one thing: getting away from this place. All he had to do was hang on. Until they were off Kiva’s ship. 

“See you in three weeks.” Varro caught Volker’s eye and gave him a small nod.

Volker nodded back as the sound and sight of ascending rings drowned everything else out.