DÁMIUL, WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL me? I thought I knew him, but he let me believe so many things that turned out to be deceptions. Why would he lie when his mission was to spread the truth? Wouldn’t telling me and letting me help in his cause have been worth the risk?
In the holovid, Dámiul remains motionless. The white-haired man speaks sharply in Adryil. His words run together, and I can’t make out a single one.
“What’s he saying?” I ask.
Jaerin reaches under the table and presses something. Subtitles appear along the bottom of the holovid: “…and I’ve had enough. I told you yesterday was your last chance, and now, you leave me no choice.”
The man gets up and marches over to Dámiul. I notice a metal crown ringing the man’s head, gold lights glowing along its edges. With his clinical white outfit, his gleaming yellow eyes are the only sign of color on him other than the crown’s luminosity spilling onto his locks.
Dámiul stares ahead, ignoring the man. The man holds up a metal crown, identical to his own except with blue lights, and wedges it onto Dámiul’s head. He pulls a small, rectangular device out of his pocket and presses it. The device whirs. Dámiul flinches slightly, but otherwise remains still.
I start to ask what that thing is, but Cara beats me to the question.
“It amplifies the telepathic effects of one person on another.” Jaerin answers through clenched teeth. “The brighter the lights glow, the more power he’s using.”
The man sits down across from Dámiul and speaks in a precise, formal manner. According to the subtitles, he says, “Stage One. I am going to remove the criminal’s memories of his most recent crime: illegally entering a TalentCorp facility. In addition, I will excise any memories of what followed in order to set him back to the state of mind he was in prior to that particular crime. Following that, I shall work backward to erase all recollections of any illicit activities he has been involved in.”
I gasp. This recording is from the past. If he succeeded, that means he forced Dámiul to forget me. Is that why Dámiul vanished? Is that what he meant when he said he wouldn’t be here by the time I arrived?
The lights on the man’s crown glow so bright, they make his white hair appear bright yellow. The blue lights on Dámiul’s crown blaze. Dámiul doesn’t say a word, but in his eyes, I see the same vulnerability as when he stood in the Hall of Justice. A fear he refuses to show, but that is nevertheless present.
Seconds stretch into minutes. I can’t take my eyes off Dámiul. Whatever the man’s doing, it’s hurting him, and I wish I could reach through the hologram and snatch the device away.
The lights on both crowns dim.
“Gorxit sthanga!” The white-haired man collapses forward, leaning on his hands. The subtitles say: “Worthless criminal!” From the way his back rises and falls, he must be panting.
Dámiul lifts the corner of his mouth in a triumphant half-smile. Despite his cool façade, his deliberate breaths and the sweat on his forehead betray the effort he must have exerted. “Ona sui botsel nur,” he whispers. The subtitles say: “I won’t forget.”
The man looks up and spews venomous words. “Yes, you will.”
He gets up, reaches behind him, and leans over the table. He grabs Dámiul’s hair and yanks his head to the side. I gasp, clenching my fist over my mouth. The man plunges a thick metal syringe into Dámiul’s neck.
Dámiul’s expression contorts with pain for a split second, then returns to his composed mask. The man yanks the syringe out, and he curls his mouth into a sneer.
Dámiul’s head droops, and his eyes glaze over. Whatever drug the man injected him with must be taking effect.
My eyes tingle. The whole time I knew him—is this where he went when he disappeared? Looking back, I remember anger, fierceness, and a touch of melancholy, but never anything that made me suspect he was in so much distress.
The gold lights on the white-haired man’s crown glow again. So do the blue lights around Dámiul’s head. Dámiul lifts his chin, but I can see the pain behind his eyes, and his breathing grows increasingly labored.
Dámiul’s hands shake. He clenches his fists, but the spasms move up his arms. The white-haired man’s face contorts. Even though his back is mostly to me, I can make out the sliver of a smile.
I grip the edge of the table, reminding myself that I’m watching a recording.
Dámiul blinks rapidly, and a horrible shudder runs through his body. The lights glow brighter, and red blood trickles down the side of his face from under the crown.
His eyes close, and he slumps forward.
“Dámiul!” I clap my hands over my mouth.
In the holovid, Dámiul convulses against the table, breathing in audible gasps. More blood seeps from beneath the crown, and a line of red escapes the side of his mouth.
The lights on both crowns dim again. The white-haired man watches unsympathetically as Dámiul continues shaking. I want to reach through the holovid and scream at him.
The convulsions stop, and Dámiul lies limp against the table, gasping for air. The white-haired man leans toward him and speaks with a satisfied lilt. “Tell me, Dámiul, have you met any Earthlings other than the Ka’risil on Adrye?”
Dámiul’s breath steadies. His eyes remain shut, and I wonder if the white-haired man really expects him to answer when he’s unconscious. The man grabs Dámiul’s shoulder and shakes him. He lets out a harsh exclamation. “Answer me!”
Dámiul’s eyelids flutter, and he whispers, as though too weak to voice his words. “What did you say?”
The man repeats his question.
Dámiul slowly lifts his head and meets the man’s gaze. His eyes blaze with determination, and a defiant smile lifts his lips. “Zeth atiyil Iris Lei.”
My heart skips a beat. I don’t need the subtitles to understand: Her name is Iris Lei. Unexpected joy rushes through me—he hasn’t forgotten me.
“Contuk en!” The man’s curse is almost a scream.
“Ona sui botsel nur.” I won’t forget. Dámiul’s eyelids fall shut, and he collapses onto the table.
The holovid flickers out. Jaerin’s gaze is fixed on the ground beside him.
Atikéa shakes her head, her mouth open in horror. She whispers something to Jaerin, and I only make out the last words: “On’en sui clogamo.” I will help you.
I turn to Cara, wondering if she knows more about what’s going on between them.
Cara leans toward me. “Jaerin wants to break Dámiul out of the reeducation center, and he needs Atikéa’s underground connections to pull it off. She kept refusing because she didn’t want him to do anything rash while Dámiul’s case was still in appeals. I guess she’s changed her mind now that she’s seen what they’re putting Dámiul through.”
“This record is from weeks ago.” Jaerin voice sounds strained. I turn to see his eyes fixed on me. “The holovid was taken shortly after he was sentenced. I don’t know how much they’ve put him through since then, but I can’t let it go on any longer.”
Weeks. That means I probably spoke with him after he went through the hell I witnessed. Is that what he was escaping from when he said I was his sanctuary? “When we communicated through the Zexa device, he seemed… fine.”
Jaerin gets up and walks around the table toward me. “What did he say to you?”
I summarize my interactions with Dámiul—well, the parts about mind training and his disgruntlement toward Papilio. I finish by telling him how I last saw Dámiul three days before the Zexa device was taken from me.
Jaerin looks down at me with a contemplative expression. “He would have mapped the Zexa device to his brain to use it telepathically, though…” He presses his lips together.
“Though what?” I ask.
“The reeducation centers sometimes use brain implants when a prisoner is especially stubborn. Judging from what we’ve just seen, Dámiul would qualify. Those implants would have broken his connection with the Zexa device. Even if I get him out, they might have already erased who he is.”
Atikéa approaches him. “Memories can be recovered.”
“Only if he remembers in time!” Jaerin whirls toward her. “What if I’m already too late? What if whatever blank slate they replaced his mind with has already overridden the brother I know? Contuk fuzettin!”
Atikéa puts her hand on his arm and speaks soothingly.
I rub my eyes furiously, trying to make the tears stop. I can’t believe it. Dámiul is so close, in the same city as I am, and yet, I might have lost him anyway. If only he’d told me! Did he think I would shun him for being a prisoner?
I look up at Jaerin. “Can I help?”
Jaerin tries to smile, but it falters. “Just be here when I get Dámiul out. I’m sure he’ll be glad to see you.”
Atikéa turns to Cara. “I’m afraid our other plans for the Ka’risil will have to wait.”
Cara cocks her eyebrow. “Put our entire mission on hold for one person? What kind of strategy is that?”
“It’s not a strategy,” Atikéa murmurs.
“Then why—”
“Because that’s my little brother they’re torturing.” Jaerin interrupts Cara’s question. “I have to get him out.”
Cara puts her hands on her hips. “Oh, so he matters more than all of us?”
“I didn’t say that.” Jaerin sighs. “You’ve never had a family, so I don’t expect you to understand. But please, try.”
Cara’s irritated expression remains, but she doesn’t argue. Jaerin and Atikéa leave the room. My mind feels like a hurricane blew through it. First, I learned that my entire life was a lie, and now, I find out that the boy who captured my imagination, then captured my heart, might have had his mind erased.
“How can they do this?” I say. “I thought the Adryil were supposed to be… peaceful.”
Cara lets out a humorless laugh. “Oh, they’re perfectly nice, as long as you listen to them. The Ydayas are nice enough to us, aren’t they? You can’t say they’re abusing us or anything. Speaking of which…” She glances at her watch. “We should probably start heading back. Normally, I’d stay another hour or two, but I figure it’s your first time out, and I don’t want you to be too sleepy on the return trip, with all the climbing and everything.”
Sleep is the last thing I’m capable of right now, but I suppose with Atikéa and Jaerin gone and no other Abolitionists in sight, there’s no sense in us lingering here. “What do you usually do out here?”
“Strategize, mostly.” Cara stands and walks to the door. “Decide which Ka’risil we can trust with the truth. Pass around Adryil language tablets so the Earthlings won’t be so lost. Cook up ways to convince Ka’risil owners that what they’re doing is wrong. Nothing dramatic—well, until Jaerin decided to try busting his darling brother out of jail.” She rolls her eyes. “Not the usual kind of mission.”
I walk beside her, and we cross the wide room leading to the exit. “What can I do to help?”
“For now? Just learn Adryil. I’ve already scouted the other Ka’risil in our quarters. They’re all too ingrained in their ways to join us.” Cara presses a pad by the door, which slides down into the ground. “There aren’t that many of us Abolitionists. Atikéa has a plan to infiltrate more Ka’risil quarters, but I guess that has to wait until Dámiul’s out. Someday, we’ll shut down TalentCorp and all the other slavers. I don’t know how, but it’s going to happen.”
I look back at the dingy underground complex that serves as the Abolitionists’ headquarters. It’s such a contrast to the high-tech school TalentCorp built. From the looks of things, we don’t stand a chance.
But we have to win. We can’t let the Adryil keep controlling people. Dámiul said that individuals aren’t valued on Adrye as they are on Earth, but I never imagined his kind would go so far as to erase people.
Cara tucks her Grámed device under her hair. “Put yours on.”
I pull my device out of my pocket and place it over my head, protecting the one thing I used to believe would always be mine: my thoughts.