Chapter 8: A Dark Connection

“Research Log, 12 Years, 4 Months, 7 Days (Day 4,262)

“Mada asked me today if I, as his creator, was his god. I told him that I was more an unnatural mother than a god. True I created him, and I suppose Dytie could have created diordna using similar means if he wanted, but I never imagined the birth of my species quite like Mada’s. He seemed to accept that answer, though he still seemed thoughtful. He'll come to some understanding of his own on the topic, he does that more and more lately.

"I, on the other hand, am not satisfied with the answer I gave. His question is more difficult the more I consider it. Traditionally, ideas of god are associated with the creation of the diordna, at least for those who know enough about our composition to realize that we couldn't just happen. Diordna aren't animals, we are something more, something unique.

But so is Mada, in his own way. And if he is equally intelligent to diordna does that mean he is one of us, differentiated only by the material components of his body? It’s a common belief that only Dytie could create diordna kind, but if Mada is equal to us then have I not created a new diordna? And what impact will introducing him to society have on our understanding of Dytie? What would that do to the world as we know it?”

“What…” Nailil began, and Iakedrom looked up to meet her eyes. There was no more pleasure in them or they’d look green through Iakedrom’s disgust. Instead, the disgust yellow in her eyes was intensified by that in his own. “What just happened.”

Iakedrom swallowed, tasting slag at the back of his throat. “We haven’t quite figured that out yet. Did you happen to read Fosia’s notes, or did you just look at the ones about Ekivia?”

Nailil shook her head. “Just the ones about Ekivia. Though I did glance at the other.”

“Then it appears we have some things we need to discuss,” Iakedrom said. What he wanted to do was turn right back around and start grilling Ekivia, but he restrained himself. They needed to pause, to think, to plan.

Nailil led the two of them to the House Commander’s office, snapping at her to leave so they could speak. It said a lot about Ailif’s discipline that she obeyed immediately, almost as though she’d expected the command. The three of them sat around Ailif’s desk.

“Let’s be quick about this,” Nailil said. “I don’t have much time.”

Iakedrom nodded. “Just before you arrived we saw a similar thing happen with our other investigation. I went in to ask Esile some questions and she attacked me with a hardened piece of her own skin. The same thing happened as you just saw.”

“Esile?” Nailil asked. “Is that the name she gave you?”

“Yes,” Iakedrom said.

“She seems to believe that she is the Esile,” Fosia said. “And I have to say I’m starting to believe her.”

“That’s impossible,” Nailil said. “She died generations ago.”

“We thought she did,” Fosia said. “But she looks almost exactly like the scientist, and there are other things.”

Nailil rolled her eyes. “She’s getting in your head. There’s no way the real Esile could still be alive.”

“We’ve been looking into that,” Fosia said. “I haven’t had a chance to tell Iakedrom this yet, but I just spoke to the machinologist again about diordna life span. He said there are records of diordna living a long time and then dying of old age, but he admits he’s never seen it himself. In fifty years as a machinologist, he’s only ever seen diordna die at the hands of another diordna. On top of that, he found a theory by Esile that suggested isolated organics could greatly extend the lifespan of diordna by making it possible to repair and heal what were once fatal wounds. If Esile figured that out maybe she could be alive still.”

“Not possible,” Nailil said, her voice firm with confidence. “The machinologist must have been exaggerating.”

Iakedrom wasn’t so certain, and looking at Fosia he saw that she wasn’t either. She was starting to believe this Esile was the Esile, and that she’d succeeded in proving her theory. For all they knew, she’d proven her others too. If this was Esile then she could have been instrumental in creating Iakedrom’s prosthetic, not just in a theoretical way but in a hands-on way in recent generations. The irony of that thought disturbed Iakedrom.

“Anyway,” Iakedrom said, getting them back to the topic at hand. “Two of Esile’s most important hypotheses was on the similarities between animal and diordna structures and the possibility of isolated organics.”

“So?” Nailil said.

“Near the end of her life she spoke about another hypothesis that’s related to the two,” Fosia said. “She thought it was possible to create isolated mechanics. Living pieces of diordna, but not a part of anyone.”

Nailil’s face scrunched up in disgust to match the color in all their eyes. “And you think that’s what we just saw? Isolated mechanics?”

“We can’t think of any other possibility,” Iakedrom said.

Nailil looked back and forth between the two of them in disbelief. “You actually believe this.”

“Yes,” Iakedrom and Fosia said simultaneously. “Unless you have a better explanation, I can think of nothing else that would cause a piece of skin to crawl up my arm.”

“It could be a miracle of Dytie,” Nailil said. “If so, then we should be trying to discern the meaning behind it.”

“Perhaps,” Iaekdrom said. “I think the first step is to find out what connection Ekivia has with Esile. Even if Esile figured out isolated organics, I can’t figure out how Ekivia would have come across it too.”

“This isn’t important,” Nailil said. “I told you I don’t have much time with Ekivia. I need answers before tonight, we can’t afford distractions.”

“I believe the two are related,” Iakedrom said.

Nailil met his eyes. “Did she say something to you that you haven’t told me yet?”

Iakedrom hesitated. He wasn’t sure he wanted to share what Ekivia had told him, but this was a priestess. He nodded. “She talked about Mada, one of the fugitives, like a son and hinted that there is something about him that is unique. She believes this unique thing would lead to him being taken from her, or possibly killed. She claimed he didn’t have a father. Given what just happened I think he might have been an experiment in isolated organics. His name does mean ‘the first’ after all.”

“You think she made an entire diordna using isolated organics,” Nailil said flatly. “A theory from a dead scientist who may still be alive generations after she was believed dead, and if so is completely insane today. Based on the meaning of a fugitive’s name.”

“And on two pieces of skin animating and writing on my prosthetic after being separated from the rest of the body,” Iakedrom said. “I know it sounds unlikely, but I think it’s an important line of inquiry that could lead to more information about Mada.”

Nailil sighed. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this. But you might be right.”

“I’d like to be the one that asks the questions,” Iakedrom said. “She’s more open with me than she’s been with you. I think I can get her to talk more.”

“Fine,” Nailil said. “But are you willing to do what needs to be done? Or will I have to take over?”

Iakedrom’s vision paled a little. He knew what Nailil was really asking. Would he be able to harm Ekivia if necessary? He wasn’t sure he could.

However… she had kept a lot back from him. And the animation of her skin connected her to someone who had harmed him greatly in the past. Someone who’d taken his arm and his previous partner. She’d pretended to trust him, pretended to be close to him, pretended to enjoy his company. She’d even attacked him and his officers. Thinking about it shifted Iakedrom’s sight toward red.

But he still respected Ekivia and didn’t want to see her come to harm. And if he allowed Nailil to have her way he expected the scientist would come to great harm. If it came to it, would he harm her a little to protect her from greater harm?

“I don’t believe extreme measures will be necessary,” Iakedrom said. “She’s cooperating with me, it’ll just take a little more time.”

“I told you I don’t have time,” Nailil said. “You have until mid-afternoon, and then I take over.”

Iakedrom met her eyes, but he didn’t argue. How could he with a priestess of Dytie?

They left the office, and Ailif went in behind them as they did.

“Fosia, see if Esile has any connection to Ekivia for me,” Iakedrom said as they walked toward the interrogation rooms.

“Good idea,” Fosia said. “You think they were working together?”

“I sincerely hope not,” Iakedrom said, but the thought brought disgust back into his eyes and the pit of his stomach. He shook his head, not looking forward to what he had to do next.

Looking around the floor he didn’t see the skin where it had fallen, though officers avoided the place as they moved around the room, giving it a wide berth on all sides.

He turned to an officer whose desk was near Ekivia’s interrogation room. “Do you know where the piece of skin went?”

The yellow-eyed officer nodded, swallowing uncomfortably. “It’s in a bag on your desk. Vela said we should keep it for evidence.”

“Thank you,” Iakedorm said, and he retrieved it quickly before returning to the interrogation room. As he considered what he might need to do his chest tightened, eyes filling with disgust and sorrow.

**********

When Iakedrom reentered the room his eyes were a sickly yellowish-brown color that Ekivia couldn’t quite identify. There was disgust in it, but it was muddied by… sorrow and maybe a little anger? She wasn’t sure what that indicated, but his expression made him look like he was trying to hide pain behind a wood mask of stoicism.

His expression wasn’t the only thing that had changed about him. His prosthetic was covered in unfamiliar black patterns that ran from his wrist to his shoulder. They looked almost like some sort of language, though not one Ekivia recognized. She wondered what they meant, and how they’d been applied to the prosthetic so quickly.

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He was accompanied by Nailil, which made Ekivia uncomfortable, though she was comforted slightly by Iakedrom’s presence. They entered slowly, Iakedrom hesitating slightly and Nailil, surprisingly, taking his lead instead of the other way around.

Since the last round of questions Ekivia had made a decision. She was certain Nailil would step in and continue to hurt her if given the chance, and eventually she knew that would break her. So instead she’d decided to delay as much as possible, only giving out tidbits. She would stretch this process out as long as she could to give Nevets as much time as he needed to write his preliminary findings. From there, things would get rocky, but at least there would be credible scientific documentation to protect Mada while they continued to further prove his intelligence.

“You removed the constrictor,” Nailil said to Iakedrom.

“I told you,” Iakedrom replied, obviously impatient with the priestess. “It wasn’t necessary. Now if you don’t mind I’d like to get started.”

Nailil glared at him with red eyes, but backed down, going to stand stiffly, arms crossed, by the wall opposite Ekivia.

Iakedrom turned and met her eyes. In that brief time between entering the room and his brief discussion with the priestess, his eyes had nearly entirely cleared. Ekivia had known diordna who could subdue their emotions quickly, but this was… impressive, though not entirely unexpected from someone in his line of work.

“What is your relationship to Esile (last name?),” Iakedrom asked.

Ekivia scrunched her face up in confusion. Where had that question come from? “I’m one of her descendants. Through my father.”

“That’s not saying much,” Iakedrom said.

Esile had a reputation for promiscuity. Some studies suggested that as much as forty percent of Drolians were descended from Esile, though Ekivia thought those numbers were inflated. She suspected it was closer to fifteen or twenty percent of the population at most. Still, one in five was no small number.

“Have you had any recent interactions with her?” Iakedrom continued.

Ekivia’s confusion deepened, and she shook her head. “That’s not… I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“Let me clear things up a little,” Iakedrom said, and he placed a small pouch on the table in front of her, untied it, and dumped something out onto the table.

It was the piece of skin he’d removed from her arm.

She recoiled in disgust, eyes yellowing, lips curling. She tasted sulfur and slag and swallowed to keep it down.

Then Iakedrom touched the piece of skin with his prosthetic and it latched on.

Ekivia’s eyes widened in horror as the skin crawled up his arm, following the path of the black marks, darkening them where it passed, and drawing pinpricks of blood occasionally. She watched the animal skin twitch, Iakedrom’s face contort in discomfort, and the yellow in her eyes paled. When the piece of skin reached his shoulder it fell, and in the complete silence of the room, Ekivia heard the soft sound of its almost imperceptible impact on the ground.

“That…” Ekivia swallowed slag. “That’s not my skin.”

“I assure you it is,” Iakedrom said. “When I removed it earlier it stuck to my prosthetic and wrote these symbols. Do you know what they mean?”

“I’ve never seen them before,” Ekivia said, her hands beginning to shake in their restraints. She had no idea what was happening, but she didn’t like it one bit.

“Then how did your skin do this?” Iakedrom pressed.

“I don’t know.”

Nailil sighed from her place by the wall. “This isn’t going anywhere. She’s too stubborn. Let me—“

“No,” Iakedrom cut her off. “I’m not done yet.”

“Fine,” Nailil said. “Then hurry it up.”

Ekivia saw the tension in Iakedrom’s body as he turned back to her, his demeanor changed, his expression more aggressive though she couldn’t see it clearly as he was looking at the priestess. And the comfort she’d felt at having him here instead of being alone with Nailil began to fade.

Iakedrom turned back to Ekivia, looking her face over intensely for a moment before speaking. She saw anger slowly growing in his expression, a frustration. The eye color was dark, red blended with black. Together they were usually associated with a sense of betrayal, but his expression looked more conflicted than that. She thought she saw betrayal in the lines of his forehead, but she also thought she saw… a plea?

“This is the second time this has happened to me,” Iakedrom said. “The first was done by a nawo claiming to be Esile, your ancestor.”

“That’s impossible,” Ekivia said. “She died a long time ago.”

“That’s what we thought too,” Iakedrom said, eyes intense. “But this nawo believes she’s the Esile. And honestly, the more we look into it the more possible it seems.”

“That’s not possible,” Ekivia said, shaking her head.

“Maybe not,” Iakedrom shrugged. “But that’s less important. You’re familiar with Esile’s theories of isolation and animal diordna relations?”

Ekivia nodded. “Of course.”

She’d read extensively about her ancestor’s work, it was required if you wanted to be an animal engineer. And if you wanted to be a machinologist too. The nawo was a genius, one of the greatest minds ever to be born to diordna kind. If she was still alive Ekivia would have loved to meet her. Her mind would be a blessing to Drolians unlike any other. But she’d died so long ago none of that mattered.

“Good,” Iakedrom said. “Then you know she theorized both isolated organics as well as isolated mechanics.”

Ekivia’s eyes widened again. She wasn’t a machinologist, so she only knew the basics of diordna physiology. But the theory seemed to be a good explanation for what she’d just seen.

“Now tell me,” Iakedrom said. “How could two unconnected diordna cause the same impossible thing to happen with my prosthetic? Something that has only one logical explanation that is rooted in a theory thought to be wild speculation. And the two events occurred when in contact with skin from someone claiming to be the greatest mind we’ve ever known, and when in contact with skin from you, possibly the greatest mind of our generation.”

“I don’t even know how it could have happened with one of us,” Ekivia said, exasperated. She was so caught up she barely registered the compliment, though she’d heard the sentiment before from others and didn’t deny that it was possible. “Let alone two. You’re asking the wrong diordna. Why don’t you go check with this Esile?”

Iakedrom glared at Ekivia. She seemed so damn genuine in her confusion, it made him want to believe her, but he couldn’t allow himself to. He placed both hands on the table, supporting his weight. He looked like he was trying to make some kind of decision.

Nailil sighed, and Iakedrom glared at the priestess.

“What?” He asked, speaking more harshly than Ekivia had ever heard anyone speak to a priest or priestess. She appreciated the sentiment in this case.

“Let’s talk outside for a minute,” Nailil said.

Iakedrom pushed himself up and followed Nailil from the room.

**********

“This isn’t going anywhere,” Nailil said when the door closed behind them. “You said you could get her to cooperate.”

“And I can,” Iakedrom snapped, eyes red, fists clenched involuntarily. “I told you. It will just take time.”

“Which we don’t have,” Nailil said. “I told you I’m on a deadline.”

“Do you want honest answers or do you want convenient answers?” Iakedorm said back. “Because your way gets convenient answers that are false as often as they’re true.”

“I want any answers,” Nailil said. “She knows something, even if she’s playing dumb right now. I can’t see any way this could happen twice and the two suspects not be connected.”

“Me neither,” Iakedrom said.

“Good,” Nailil said. “Because if you didn’t agree I’d think you were an idiot. So, we’re going back in there and the only question I have is this. Will you be the one that does what’s necessary to get our answers, or will I?”

“I’ll do what I have to,” Iakedrom said. He couldn’t let Nailil continue to torture Ekivia. The priestess would go too far, but if he didn’t take any steps in that direction she’d take over. “I’ll get the answers we need.”

And truth be told, he wanted those answers as well. He wanted to know why she’d lied, he wanted an excuse to trust her again. He didn’t think he ever really could, twenty years of lies didn’t vanish with one answer, but knowing the truth would help the feeling of betrayal that still bothered him.

“Fine,” Nailil huffed. “She’s playing dumb, refusing to connect the pieces we’ve presented. Make the connections so she can’t keep hiding from them, then get the answers.”

“I will,” Iakedrom said. He didn’t like being bossed around on his own investigation like this, but Nailil was a priestess, a representative of both the Drol and Dytie himself. Even if her actions were detestable, her attitude abrasive, she still represented their god. That meant what she did wasn’t so bad, right? She wouldn’t do something against god and the Drol’s will, would she?

“If you don’t get answers soon I’m taking over,” Nailil said.

“You said I could do it my way until mid-afternoon,” Iakedorm said, glaring at the priestess. He’d always respected the servants of Dytie, but this nawo was making respect difficult.

“I know what I said,” Nailil said, matching his tone and glare with her own. “But if she maintains this stubborn streak I’m stepping in sooner or we’ll get nothing out of her before night.”

“Fine,” Iakedrom said. “I’ll be harder on her.”

“Good,” Nailil said. “And while you’re at it, you should consider how you speak to a priestess. It makes one question your loyalty. Keep this up and you might find yourself in the same position as Ekivia.”

Iakedrom hesitated briefly but nodded. He wasn’t just toeing a line anymore, he was stepping right across it with his brashness. The only reason she put up with him was probably that she knew his record and he’d already gotten more out of Ekivia than she had. Still, she was right. He needed to direct his anger and frustration to its source, not around him. He didn’t like what Nailil had done, and he didn’t like her superior attitude, but he wasn’t actually that angry at her. He was really angry at Ekivia and himself for being taken in by her. He had to remember that.

They reentered the interrogation room, and Nailil took her place near the wall, giving Iakedrom a significant look. One slip and she’d take over and pick up right where she’d left off with Ekivia.

Instead of just standing across the table from Ekivia, he began to pace. “You seem confused so I’m going to get straight to the point.”

“Thank you,” Ekivia said, exasperation clear in her voice.

“Is Mada an experiment?” Iakedrom asked, watching her expression as he rounded the table toward her. “One that incorporates Esile’s principles of isolation?”

Ekivia’s eyes paled, though she was clearly trying to suppress the fear sight. She didn’t answer, squeezing her lips together tightly.

Iakedrom glanced at Nailil, and she raised her eyebrows at him as if asking if she needed to step in. He shook his head and stepped around beside Ekivia.

“Silence isn’t good enough,” Iakedrom said, reminding himself of his anger and letting it come into his voice. “It could just be you avoiding giving anything away, but it could also be confirmation that Mada is an experiment in isolation theory, one that a priestess of Dytie might find blasphemous. But I need you to tell me which it is.”

Ekivia remained stiff in her seat, fists clenched side by side on the table, lips tight, jaw flexing.

Nailil met Iakedrom’s eyes again, and she took a step toward the table, and he thought he saw Ekivia tense even more than she already was. He held his hand up, closed his eyes briefly, then nodded and opened them.

“I can’t help you if you won’t help me,” He said, leaning down beside Ekivia on the side with the bonellet wound. As he considered what he was about to do his eyes yellowed, and he hesitated. Was he really about to do this? Did he have a choice? He clenched one fist, the one Ekivia couldn’t see, trying to steady his hands and swallow the disgust. He recalled her betrayal, he recalled the lies and remembered her attack on his companions. He thought of their other suspect and how these two were connected and it reminded him that he’d lost his arm to that Esile. If these two were working together that could be partially Ekivia’s fault. He could see no other reason for the two to be connected except that they must have been working together. But more importantly, if that was true, he’d lost his previous partner to their secrets.

As his anger grew he became more certain. Partly because he needed to be for his own sake as well as Eivia’s. The two of them must have succeeded in proving that isolated mechanics were possible, and they’d killed numerous diordna to do it. Mada was the result of that, he had to be. A diordna made by manipulating the parts of dead diordna, researching them to be something else. That made Ekivia a second Craftsman, and perhaps worse. She may not have done the killing, but at her bidding, the first Craftsman had killed and crafted and sent her materials for her experiments. No wonder she’d lost her license to engineer.

It all made sense.

“We’re on a time crunch,” Iakedrom said. “So we don’t have time to do this the normal way. But I will have answers. This is your last chance to give them willingly.”

Ekivia turned toward him, anger in her eyes right until she met his. He was seeing red, and when she saw the anger reflected in his eyes, deep and burning, she knew what was coming and her eyes paled with fear.

But she held her silence.

So Iakedrom reached forward, hesitated one last time his mind racing to find a different way forward, then he drove his thumb into Ekivia’s wound.