Chapter 62: An Eye For An Eye II

He couldn’t tell how long the humans had held him captive.

All he knew was that days had passed.

Or maybe weeks.

Time on this planet worked strangely to him and his mother’s connection had grown faint to almost nothing.

The doors of his confinement hissed open and the silver head man from that day strutted in.

"Hello there."

His tone was cherry and light with humor as he pulled what Tuk now knew to be a data pad.

The device fed the humans information, it was like their rings...but rectangular.

"How is my mother doing?"

"It seems our little exercise hasn’t been working properly..."

The man fished for something in his lab coat’s breast pocket. A tiny cube with a red button at its top. He fiddled around it for a while before speaking up again.

"Our main rule, if I must remind you over and over again, is to always speak English to me."

The next second, pain seared through the restraints holding him down.

"H-how is my mother doing?"

The man clapped his hands, "see? That wasn’t so hard, was it?"

Tuk bit back a growl.

"Now, your mother is doing well."

"Why can’t I feel her?"

Another pulse of pain tore through him.

"Why... can’t I feel her?"

"She has been moved to another section of the facility."

"Why?"

"We have to make sure she delivers her child safely."

Was she already due?

"Now, are you ready to tell me where your planet is?"

"..."

"Silence is not the answer I want, big guy. If you don’t tell me... I’ll kill your mother and the little one growing inside her."

Tuk pulled against the restraints in a frenzy at the mention of his mother’s life being threatened but it was quickly shut down by the collars once more.

"I’ll tell you..."

He rasped as he fought to catch his breath. "...I’ll tell if you let my mother go first."

The silver man searched his face for something then nodded.

"Fine."

Tuk’s head lifted slightly.

"Go ahead."

The restraints loosened just enough for him to breathe without feeling as though his ribs would crack. He swallowed, his fingers curling weakly against the cold surface beneath him.

"My planet..."

The words felt very wrong in his mouth.

He had been taught from birth never to reveal the location of Qashka to outsiders. His mother had repeated it so many times that the warning had become instinct.

Never reveal home.

Never reveal the path.

And never reveal the stars that lead there.

But this man had his mother.

And her child. His blood.

Tuk stared at the silver-headed man.

"Qashka is beyond the Grand Veil of Mercy."

Merit’s brows lifted.

"The Veil of Mercy?"

"Yes."

"Coordinates."

Tuk gave them.

Every number, directional marker and their celestial reference.

He spoke slowly, making sure the man understood each one.

But he changed them. Not enough to make the coordinates obviously false.

Just enough.

A slight alteration in the third sequence. A reversed celestial bearing. A distance stretched farther than it should have been.

A tiny mistake.

A lie buried inside enough truth to make it convincing.

The man entered everything into his rectangular device.

Tuk watched the screen glow against the man’s pink face.

"Are you certain?"

"Yes."

Merit looked at him.

Tuk held his gaze.

After a moment, he smiled.

"Good boy."

Tuk’s fingers tightened.

The man turned toward the door.

"I’ll see what I can do."

"Wait..."

The man stopped.

"...my mother."

Merit glanced back.

"You’ll see her soon."

Then the doors hissed shut.

Tuk remained alone.

He stared at the ceiling.

He had lied.

For the first time in his life, he had deliberately lied about Qashka.

He should have felt relieved.

Instead, he felt sick but then again he did it for the greater good.

He pressed his palm against his chest.

Nothing.

There was no familiar pull or warmth neither was the distant sensation of his mother’s ring.

Only silence.

Days passed.

At least, Tuk thought they did.

He counted them by the changes in the lights.

Sometimes they dimmed.

Sometimes they brightened.

Sometimes humans entered his confinement and brought food he barely touched.

Disgusting. He had called them.

No one told him anything.

No one mentioned his mother.

He asked once.

The human ignored him.

He asked again.

Another human left.

Eventually, Tuk stopped asking.

Then, one day, the doors opened.

The silver man was back.

He walked inside and Tuk immediately sat upright. The man looked almost cheerful.

"Well."

Tuk stared at him.

"You’re free."

The words took several seconds to register.

"What?"

Merit gestured toward the doorway.

"Our little wager has been settled."

Tuk slowly climbed to his feet.

His legs were stiff from being restrained for so long.

"Where is my mother?"

Merit didn’t answer.

Instead, he walked toward a large object being wheeled into the room by two humans.

Tuk’s body froze.

It was a transparent cylinder.

A faint blue mist swirled inside it.

His rings immediately reacted.

His head snapped toward it.

"Mama?"

Merit placed a hand against the glass.

"She’s in there."

Tuk rushed forward.

His hands slapped against the transparent surface.

Inside lay his mother. Tuk’Ina was curled slightly on her side, her porcelain body motionless beneath the pale frost. Her arms were wrapped around something small.

Tuk leaned closer.

A newborn.

His sibling.

Tiny.

Porcelain.

Perfectly still with a tiny ring half formed at its feet.

Tuk’s breath caught.

He stared.

His mother’s arms were positioned protectively around the infant, as though even in sleep she refused to let anything touch it.

"Mama..."

Nothing.

He pressed both palms against the cryotube.

"Wake up."

The man watched him.

"The freezing process keeps them stable."

Tuk didn’t look at him.

"How do I wake her?"

"You don’t."

Tuk’s head turned.

"Not here."

He tapped the cryotube.

"Take her home. When you reach your planet, release the chamber and she’ll recover."

Tuk looked at his mother again.

The faintest hope returned to his expression.

"Really?"

"Of course."

The answer came too easily.

Tuk wanted to ask more.

Why had she been moved into the this strange thing?

Why couldn’t he feel her ring?

Why was the baby so still too?

The questions crowded his mind but he didn’t ask.

He was afraid.

Afraid that one question would make the offer disappear.

Merit stepped aside.

"Your ship is waiting."

Tuk looked once more at his mother.

Then at his sibling.

He nodded.

"I’ll take them home."

"Good."

The cryotube was transferred into Tuk’s care.

More like he carried it on weak stuff knees as he was led outside by the humans through the facility.

He didn’t look back. Not once.

He never wanted to set foot on this planet ever again.

...

..

.

The journey home felt longer than the journey to Earth.

Tuk barely slept.

He remained beside the cryotube, watching the faint blue mist move around his mother and sibling.

Every few hours, he placed his hand against the glass.

Nothing.

There was still no response.

Still, he told himself it was because of the mist like thing.

That was what the man had said.

They were sleeping and they would wake.

They had to.

Qashka eventually appeared beyond the viewport.

Tuk’s rings brightened.

His body nearly trembled with relief.

Home.

The twin-shaped planet grew larger.

Clouds curled around its strange hemispheres, their colors shifting beneath the light of the distant star.

The ship descended.

The moment it touched the ground, Tuk rushed toward the cryotube.

The hatch opened.

Cold vapor spilled across the floor.

Tuk reached inside.

His hands wrapped around his mother’s body.

"Come on."

He pulled.

Tuk’Ina slid free.

She was heavier than he remembered.

Too heavy.

Her body fell against him forcing Tuk to staggered backward.

"Mama?"

He adjusted his grip.

"Wake up."

He looked down at his mother. Her face remained completely still.

Tuk’s eyes moved toward her chest, the usual rise and fall of it was absent.

He froze.

"No."

He pressed his hand against her porcelain body.

Cold.

Not the cold of the normal Vashki body temperature.

Something deeper.

The final cold.

Tuk’s fingers began trembling.

"No, no, no..."

His gaze dropped toward the infant still nestled against her.

He reached for the little body.

The same thing.

Tuk stopped breathing.

The world seemed to disappear around him.

His mother’s ring gave no pull.

His sibling’s rings gave no response.

Nothing.

He slowly lowered himself to the ground, still holding them.

"Mama..."

His voice broke.

He shook her gently.

"Wake up."

Nothing.

He shook her harder.

"Mama, we’re home."

Silence.

"You said we’d go home."

His fingers tightened around her hand.

"You said we’d go home together."

Nothing answered him.

The transparent cylinder continued its releasing pale vapor behind him.

Tuk stared at the two bodies in his arms.

His mother.

His sibling.

They were both dead.

The promise of returning them home had been the only thing that kept him moving.

The only thing that had kept him obedient.

The only reason he had believed that man.

Tuk’s head lowered.

His forehead rested against his mother’s cold porcelain face.

For several seconds, he remained completely still.

Then his rings began to glow.

One.

Then another.

Then all of them.

The air around him trembled and the ground beneath his feet groaned. Dust lifted from the floor and into the air.

The gravity around the young prince began to distort.

But Tuk didn’t notice.

He only stared at his mother’s hand.

At the ring that no longer answered him.

And somewhere, buried beneath the grief beginning to consume him, a single thought formed.

He lied to me.