The bloody glow of the holographic panel pressed the shadows against Tal’s face, sharpening them as they brought his features into stark contrast. His face was blank. Stoic. His finger hovering just above the keypad. Nothing outside betrayed the horror of what he was about to do. Separating him from his former allies was three inches of solid hypersteel. It wouldn’t last. All he had to do was push the button.

Inside, he was a mess. A chaotic collision of desires, yet many had gained a intertwining of purpose, a focal point that had wrapped them into cords. Ropes that now bound his soul. Guilt and shame pooled around him, rising and drowning him. For years he’d called Korsha a betrayer. The meager sliver of him that resisted, that understood what was happening, knew what he was being forced to do. Yet the greater part of him, greater by majority not by authenticity, was loath with himself. Now seeing her as the paragon she so obviously was.

It made him sick.

For a fraction of a second he resisted. It was an infinitesimal thing. A grain of sand in a vast lifeless desert. Yet in the resistance he found sustenance. Solace. It was like molded bread but at least it was something.

His resistance dropped.

So did his finger.

The door slid open and he rushed inside. His rifle rooted to his shoulder. Scope up. Eyes narrowed. The barrel swung to the left. A face. A familiar face.

“Tal, you’re-”

He snarled in disgust as he pulled the trigger. He stormed inside, steps pounding into the floor like war drums. He sighted another. The balding near-human’s green skin flushed blue with terror. A second later his eyes widened and mouth shot open. The scream that had tried to tear itself free from his throat died upon his spasming lips as arcs of azure danced upon his skin.

His heightened senses told him someone was camouflaged nearby. The field of energy produced by the cloaking tasted sour upon his tongue. He activated his omnivice. It was already fabricating the grenade before his other hand had even reached it. He turned and seconds later the newly created orb glowed in his hand. He tossed it. Eyed the air, as he lifted his rifle in the direction the sour taste was coming from. There was an explosion of light. Followed by a black silhouette. A green bolt shot out from the shadow, arcing straight for him.

His eyes narrowed. Pulling the trigger as a violent wave of heat passed by him. Its burning radiance clawed at his skin but the bolt shot passed and hissed as its energy dissipated somewhere behind him. His shots rang true, though there was a slight arc to him as they course-corrected. He grinned as the soldier fell to their knees, arcs twisted across their body.

There were benefits to being a technomancer.

Within seconds the room was locked down. He ordered a drone to explore the rest of the base. He scanned the room, eyeing the lower section beyond the small entry staircase he was standing upon. They hadn’t done much to modify the octagonal room. The main computer console was still against the far wall, the lone table pressed up against the edge of the stairs. He shook his head. What had he been thinking all those years ago? He sighed and gazed down at the rats they’d just captured. According to the three bodies that now laid on the floor motionless, that should have been everyone who’d been in his little cabal but he wasn’t going to take any chances that they’d be surprised. Not with Korsha here.

Thinking of her, he glanced over his shoulder.

“Cleared. What are your orders?”

Korsha came up next to him, her eyes narrowing at the three on the floor. She shook her head.

“Why do we fight amongst ourselves? We could be so much greater together.”

Tal blinked. He’d expected rage. Indignation. Yet in those eyes he saw a deep sorrow. It was etched in the soft downward creases of her face. The way the edges of her lips ticked down. Seeing such an emotion flooded him with the same empathy, though it was only a partition concoction. He’d mimic her partially but in the end her safety was his number one goal. These people had allied against Anadrov and by extension Korsha. And now, standing over the final three, he ensured that their plans had been stopped in their entirety.

“Why do you pity them?”

Korsha turned to him, her eyes searching his. He wanted to bow his head, to avert his gaze but she’d ordered him to keep his head high. To push the thoughts of his betrayal away from him. They were together. A team once more. Almost. The word haunted him just as he knew it haunted her.

“It’s…” She was quiet for a long moment, shifting from foot to foot. In that silence he heard the hum of the base’s stabilizers working to keep this little asteroid from any collisions. Standing next to her, he felt as though he needed stabilizers. “Just a waste.”

With that she turned away. He didn’t press her further but instead set about binding his former colleges. The soldier, Jamun, had always been a suspicious one. Always in his armor, never taking it off unless he was somewhere safe. Though what that kind of place might be, Tal didn’t know as he’d never seen the man outside his armor. It was likely why Jamun had been able to get his cloaking field off. Not that it had helped him. There was a smug sense of satisfaction as Tal remembered the various bets one of their allusv peers had taken as to which of the two would win. To bad Kirsig resisted Anadrov. She was a good pilot. He sighed as he finished binding Jamun and then producing an injector from his side. The concoction was a potent mix of sedatives that would ensure Jamun and the others would stay asleep until long after they’d been imprisoned on Korsha’s new interceptor.

Having finished binding the other two, Tal stood, stretching his back. He was standing in the center of the room, leaning against a small table that had been the base’s only communal gathering place. His mind was filled with a twisting snapping fog that replaced his heightened senses with a dissatisfied frustration. He noted the drone hadn’t picked up on any life, nor did its feed show any signs that someone else had been there.

“Korsha,” he said, the urge to call her his master having fled the moment she’d ordered him to call her by name, “Feed’s clear. Am I good to come down or should I dose again?”

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Korsha, who was examining a console, glanced over his shoulder, “Can you harvest the data and purge the system on your own?”

He scoffed, “In my sleep.”

She rolled her eyes but he caught sight of that smile. It caused a shiver of warmth that started at the base of his spine to ooze down until setting into his core. Strangely, it had the same sensation of having finished a meal. There was a deep primal satisfaction and happiness to it.

“Have N-43 load them into the ship.”

“Roger.” He said, tapping the command into his omnivice.

While he waited, he grabbed the stim from his hip. It was a small cylinder of gray with the cryptic yellow markings of his profession denoting its contents. He slammed the cartridge down, listening to the satisfying hiss as it snapped onto his suit’s input regulator. He gasped as the icy liquid rushed into his chest and then spread out. It pushed back the hot angry fog, bringing a dull clarity back to him. He ignored the ache that came with having to rely upon his biology. Thus far he’d been hesitant to hack up his body and invest cybernetic weak points that others with superior skill could exploit.

It was something he’d have to question Korsha on later.

He had to be the perfect tool for her.

Seconds later the synth strode into the room. Tal winced. It wasn’t his best creation, far from it. Yet neither Korsha nor he were ready for him to create another synthetic Deidra. N-43 was a black slate. The base template Tal was used to working with. Only vaguely humanoid, it was neither biologically male nor female. In the end it didn’t serve a purpose for it to be either of those things as those ideas and concepts came with their own interesting collections of baggage. No, for now N-43 would remain a husk of potential.

Though the synth was only a template, that didn’t mean it wasn’t without utility. It was Tal’s template afterall. He watched as N-43 dropped onto all fours and crawled over Jamun. He imagined the terrified screams the man would have issued had he been awake. N-43’s chest compartment split allowing smaller, more articulate, graspers to gather the unconscious man up. Then the synth hoisted the soldier off the ground by extending its arms and legs. Tal stepped aside as it lumbered up the small staircase entrance and out into the hall beyond.

He crossed the room, boots clicking on the metal plating, as he approached Korsha. He stopped when he saw the image of Deidra hovering in the air before her. His heart pounded in his chest and a fresh swell of guilt intensified within him. Deidra. All of this had been for her yet he’d overlooked the other person who’d been most hurt by her leaving. His eyes clenched shut as his throat tightened. He tore the emotions apart, casting them on the wind. He could grieve when he was dead. Preferably from having preserved Korsha’s life. Straightening, he strode forward until he could see the edge of her face.

Her eyes were fixed upon the image, yet her eyelids were downcast. There was a longing there. A deep and terrible thing he’d known all too well. It was the kind of loneliness that crept up in the dark of night, crawled across one’s bed and slithered into one’s mind, replaying nostalgic memories over and over. It’s poison was regret. Something he’d eagerly drank up.

He couldn’t let the same be done for her.

Reaching out, he placed a hand upon her shoulder. His guts tightened as he flinched. Yet he knew it was a habit formed from being alone. He hoped that his presence reassured her that she’d never be alone again.

“Did you really see her ashes?” Korsha said, never turning away.

Tal sighed, dropping his hand. He turned away from her, casting his gaze to the rest of the room. Part of him wanted to lie. Wanted to give her hope. Yet the binding wouldn’t let him. There would be no secrets between them. He was an open book that would surrender anything she wanted to know.

“Yes.”

The words echoed out into the room, dull and hollow. He could see the way they crashed against her, waves breaking against a cliff face. She tried to remain stoic, to be like Anadrov but he knew her too well. He saw the sorrow in the shimmering of her eyes. In the faint slump of her shoulders. In the way her eyes dropped before she turned her back on the image and faced him.

“We have what we came for. Do your thing and let’s go.”

He nodded as she passed him. Part of him wanted to speak up but instinctively he set about the task he’d been ordered to do. His fingers raced across the keyboard as he input the necessary commands. Within minutes he was finished and tapping the final key with a flourish.

“We’re all set.” He said, turning to see Korsha sitting at the table.

She lifted her gaze to him and then motioned for him to sit. Grabbing a chair, he pulled it back and lowered himself down.

“It’s finished.”

He nodded, waiting for her to finish her thought.

“Does it hurt?”

He blinked, the question catching him off guard.

“Speak freely.”

The shackles that had been binding him fell away allowing that small fragment of his will, the part of him that resisted, to step forward into the light of day. Even as he opened his mouth to speak, he knew that the metaphorical light he was now standing in was still Korsha. In that moment he knew just how thorough she’d been. That part of him, though resistant, wasn’t resistant to her. A slick surge of satisfaction nearly overwhelmed him as he knew he wholly belonged to her.

“It does.”

“I’m sorry.”

Whatever had been in his mind before she’d said that emptied itself out, puddling uselessly on the floor beside him.

“I wish there had been another way. Yet our master didn’t see any alternative.”

The bastard didn’t even try. The thought slammed into Tal, shocking him. Testing a hypothesis, he opened his mouth to say the words. Nothing. He licked his lips. Anadrov should burn for what he’s done. For this. For Deidra. The thoughts continued, swirling in him. Then he realized the truth. I want revenge for what he’s done to you, Korsha. He’s used you. Taken everything from you. For that I’ll ensure he pays and you’re set free.

He blinked, sending them away. All it would take was for Korsha to ask him what he was thinking for him to reveal this little measure of freedom. In the end he knew it was the kind of freedom that came from finding the limits of one’s leash but he’d take it. Korsha had been his friend long ago and he hadn’t considered her in all this.

That was a mistake he wouldn’t make again.

“Korsha,” he slid his hand across the table and placed it on hers to get her attention. She lifted her head as he pulled back, “You’re a good person, you know that?”

“That’s the binding talking.”

“Ask me to tell you the truth.”

Korsha shook her head, eyes now glassy, “It wouldn’t matter. You can only give one answer. You only care because that’s what you're supposed to feel.”

“I…” he trailed off. What could he say? For a long moment he remained silent as his mind raced. Each carefully crafted argument he formulated failed to produce the words he needed to give her. He sighed, scowling at himself as he spoke. “I was wrong.”

“No you weren’t.”

He resisted the urge to agree with her. Agreeing with her doesn’t help her.

“You’re wrong.”

Korsha’s head shot up, her attention fully placed upon him.

“It's true. You were only following orders and good soldiers follow orders. I should’ve realized the truth and for that I’m sorry.” He paused, gathered himself, “I pledge myself to you. To protecting you. To ensuring you flourish.”

I’m going to save you Korsha. I’m going to break the chains that bind you. I’m going to kill Anadrov.

“This I swear.”