Catalyst Gate by Megan E. O'Keefe

Author:Megan E. O'Keefe [O'Keefe, Megan E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction
ISBN: 9780316419659
Google: kD8KzgEACAAJ
Amazon: B08MZT641Y
Goodreads: 55867874
Publisher: Orbit
Published: 2021-06-15T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 41

PRIME STANDARD YEAR 3543

NOT A SIMULATION

Biran spat blood and forced himself to breathe in slow, even breaths. The stars going nova behind his eyes faded, letting him focus. There were only two guardcore in the room, surely he could figure a way out of this.

“Rainier, I thought I’d cleaned out your little nest.”

The guardcore standing next to him—the one with Biran’s blood on the back of its glove—laughed. “Rainier does not operate alone. Your extermination of her ancillaries has been a convenient distraction, though. Did it make you feel like you were doing something? Crushing those bodies? She has thousands more. The only resources you’ve wasted are your own.”

“Morale is a resource. How did it feel for you, to stand beside your benefactor and watch her heads explode, one after another, while you stood by, helpless to defend her?”

Pain burst across his jaw once more, bone crunching as Biran’s head snapped back, hot agony racing down his throat, pounding through his temples until the implants Keepers used to control their pain response kicked in, detecting the overload that almost sent him spiraling into unconsciousness.

He choked on bile and leaned forward, gasping as the grip on his arms tightened, wrenching his shoulders in their sockets.

“So it did hurt your feelings,” he said when he could speak again.

“Shut your fucking mouth.” The guardcore growled out the words, causing the filter over their voice to crackle. “We’re not talking. You’re calling your sister.”

“Sanda?” Biran picked his head up, and put on a puzzled expression. Blood filled his mouth and he had to spit it out, lest he choke. Something ground in his jaw, sending fresh waves of pain through him. The implants, designed to help Keepers withstand torture, only did so much. They could be disabled, if an assailant was clever enough to notice them, and so they let enough pain through to keep the performance convincing. “Why don’t I call up my parents, too? We could have a grand reunion, but I hardly see how a Greeve family picnic will help you.”

The guardcore pressed the barrel of its rifle against Biran’s throat, tipping his chin up and back. He swallowed his own blood, heart thundering in his chest.

“You know what we want.”

The Light. They wanted Biran to make that call, so that Sanda would drop whatever she was doing and come running straight into a trap.

“Sandwiches?” Biran asked.

The rifle butt slammed into his chest, knocking the air out of him. He gasped, inhaled his own blood, and coughed for so long, whole body shuddering and wrenching against the grip of his captor, that by the time he was done he felt like he’d aged a year in a minute.

“Make the call,” the guardcore said.

He laughed, a sound so gravelly it barely sounded human. “You are guardcore. I am a Keeper. You know better than anyone on all of Prime’s forsaken worlds that I cannot be tortured into doing what you want me to do. You will push so hard that you accidentally kill me, or you will take long enough that the others will come to investigate.

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