Damiel kicked his heels against the wall, trying to free himself from
Skalosak’s grip. It was useless. He could not
budge. The Siberoo probably had more power in her smallest digit
than he had in his entire body.
“I won’t let this happen,” snarled Skalosak, her face
a scowl of pain. “I won’t let you become one of
us.”
“Skal!” gasped Damiel, trying his best to sound calm. “I want to be Initiated. I need this.”
“Don’t lie!” Skalosak roared. “You
don’t know what ‘this’ is. You have no
idea.”
Her other hand - the one aimed at Damiel with its razor claws - began to tremble.
“This is what I’ve always wanted,” said Damiel.
“Please, don’t take this away from me. You are not a
murderer.”
“This is not murder,” said Skalosak. “This is
mercy. I know you are afraid. Afraid of what She will make
you do, afraid of what She will make you become. I can’t
let that happen.”
“Then you’re the one who’s afraid!” shouted Damiel.
Skalosak did not respond; she only trembled some more.
“Skalosak, please listen. I have to accept this duty, no
matter how hard, no matter how horrific. I need it.”
“Why?” Skalosak cocked her head and glared at
him. “You do not belong here. You must
…” She seemed to choke. “You must ask me to
kill you. I need your permission to kill you.”
“I’m sorry, but you’re not going to get it. Do
what you want, but you’ll do it without my approval. Then
they’ll punish you.”
“Punish? A year’s suspension from work, a few extra nightmares, re-education. I can take it.”
“Can you now? Can you live with having killed me?
Then just …” He gulped. “Do as you will.
Obviously I’m too weak to stop you. I’m completely
defenceless.”
Skalosak froze, then hissed as if in agony, and gently lowered Damiel
to the floor. She took one step back and crouched, still taller
than any human. She raised her hands to her face and brushed them
through the fur on her cheeks in a sort of harsh massage, sweeping them
over her ears as if violently desperate to soothe them.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s my
fault. I made it so pleasant for you. I made you want to
stay.”
“You cured me of my self loathing,” said Damiel. “That is the best gift I have ever received.”
“I don’t regret that for one millisecond. It may be
the best thing I have done in centuries. But there are other
things I could have done as well. I could at least have hinted
… You had a whole week to decide. You could have turned
back at any time. But instead of staying to be punished, you
stayed to … become the punisher. Like us. Why do you
want this so badly?”
“Because I’ve always believed in the necessity of punishment.”
“For others as well as yourself? Do you not find it blasphemous to do something only God is supposed to do?”
“Don’t you?”
“My work does not conflict with my beliefs. I believe that
God is cruel. I have seen nothing in this galaxy to convince me
otherwise. In many parts of this universe, God makes the innocent
and guilty suffer equally. She is not gentle with the
innocent. I am. At least …” She closed her
eyes for a few seconds, probably embarrassed. “I aspire to
be. Even the Queen of Pain Herself - who has engineered torment
to the limits of physics and chemistry and biology - refuses to harm
the innocent. In a way, that makes Her - that makes both of us -
morally superior to God. We use our power responsibly, and yet
the God of infinite power does not. That, in my mind, is part of
what justifies the Queen’s actions. That also justifies my
servitude. I may pray to an abstract, unknowable God in times of
trial and sorrow; but in my most lucid hours, I serve the Queen,
knowing She is real, knowing that Her needs are real, and based on a
moral system that is consistent, that makes sense to me.”
For a moment Damiel was speechless, aghast that Skalosak could arrive
at these conclusions and still believe in God. Finally, he said
“The ways of the Lord are-“
“Enough!” said Skalosak, raising her hand as if swishing
away an insect. “I do not want to hear theological
arguments I have already heard a hundred thousand times before.
Even the Queen Herself scoffs at such theories of faith. She does
not care what gods we believe in. They cannot alter the duties
She has set for us. She knows that, deep down, we all have doubts
about such abstractions, while She remains a force in our lives that we
can neither deny nor disobey. The irony amuses her.”
She grinned as if silently snarling. “But if it’s the
mysterious ways of your God that you want to discuss, then all I can
say is this: if God distributes cruelty in a random fashion, then we
are simply redirecting that cruelty to areas more appropriate. Is
this what you want to take part in?”
The room began to tremble again. The tremor subsided after a few
seconds. If this was the Queen’s doing, then she may as
well have been a goddess to these people.
“I must take part in this whatever the cost,” said
Damiel. “My belief in cosmic justice has been at the core
of my being for so long. I must … as we say on my planet,
put my money where my mouth is.”
“I see. So this duty you have been called to will fulfil your purpose in life?”
“That’s what I believe.”
“And do you know the price of such fulfilment?”
Damiel paused, recalling his first private conversation with Skalosak. “You mentioned nightmares.”
“Sometimes,” said Skalosak, “I hear screams in my
head. I hear children screaming, children of a hundred different
species. All afraid, all in pain. And I hear them screaming
my name. They beg me to save them. But I cannot move.
Then I wake up, I look around me, and I remind myself that it is not an
illusion. Not really. Because the innocent are always
suffering, in places where there is no justice, and sometimes many
places beyond. This duty of mine helps me preserve the
balance. It helps me make a difference. Because if I could
bring the perpetrators of such suffering to justice, then the screams
in my head will begin to dwindle. For a while. Usually a
long while. But it gives me great peace of mind to know that the
screams of the innocent are only temporary, while the screams of the
guilty are forever. My peace, my happiness, depends upon the
eternal suffering of the guilty. She has … conditioned me
that way. She knows my every weakness, every desire. She
knows what hurts me. And this knowledge that She holds ensures
that I have no choice but to love my task, for there is nothing else
left in my life.”
Damiel stared at Skalosak’s huge bowed head, finally beginning to
realise the enormity of the path he had chosen. This magnificent
creature, so full of potential good, had been mentally disfigured for
life. Everything good inside her - her empathy, her maternal
instincts, her courage, her pride, her desire to protect the weak - had
been twisted, torn, and turned against itself, moulded into just
another feeding tool for the Queen’s insatiable hunger. The
sheer callousness defied his comprehension.
“There are other times,” she continued, “when I close
my eyes and see my son.” She raised her head and stared at
Damiel, a slight grin lighting up her face. “I see the last
moment I ever faced him, so handsome, so proud, so full of hope and
ambition. Then I imagine him watching over me today, knowing what
I do, and I see the shame in his eyes. I know that he would be
ashamed of me. And, for all the pride I have for my work, I would
not blame him.” She sighed. “Obviously
that’s not the Queen’s brainwashing. That’s my
own imagination doing that to me. My own free will, my own
conscience. If there really is a Heaven, then I doubt I will ever
get to meet him there. I have fallen far too deeply in love with
Hell, and it’s too late to turn back.” Her gaze held
Damiel. “Even for you, if you hold on to this life.”
Damiel inhaled shakily, feeling himself infected with Skalosak’s
grief and anguish. “Even if my Initiation becomes my
imprisonment,” he said, “then it is an imprisonment I have
freely chosen. I have to live to see it. I have to live
through it, regardless of the cost. And I want you to be-”
“I won’t be there for you. Only Marishison.”
Damiel frowned. “Why?”
“Because the Queen knows that I would break your neck a heartbeat
before She could touch your head. I have had … problems in
the past. I do not regret them. But I cannot repeat
them. I must respect your choice.”
Once again, the room shook, more violently than ever before. The
tremor rose in pitch, like the roaring of a great beast, then slowly
subsided.
“Ahhh,” said Skalosak, her eyes shut, her head floating as
if listening to her favourite music. “The Queen is
feeding. She has taken Her latest offering straight to Her
Heart. One more vile sadist has begun his eternity, his true life
after that blissful instant that was his former life. And I have
no choice but to be grateful.”
Damiel got to his feet, his eyes fixed upon Skalosak, upon what years
of servitude had done to her. Will this be me in years to come?
he thought to himself. Whatever the answer, it seemed that
Skalosak herself was sure of it. Why else would she even think of
killing him? Yet the shock of that moment was now far from his
concern. Much worse was the fear that motivated her, the fear for
his future. Clearly, she knew that there were many fates worse
than death, and Damnation was only the most obvious, most extreme
example. There were so many ways one could suffer, so many weary
paths to tread. Had he chosen the right one? Did he
secretly crave death in exchange for a long life of unpleasant,
soul-wracking duties?
Then he realised that his answer did not matter. It was selfish
of him to obsess over his own cravings, his own fears. He had
been lured here to serve the greater good, to make a difference to
innocent and guilty alike. With death the only alternative, his
true and bravest choice was to march forward, to complete what he had
started in his heart and mind six long years ago.
It was Skalosak who needed comfort more than himself. Damiel
wanted to walk over to her, to stroke her fur and tell her that
everything was all right, that her work and wisdom made a difference to
the unjust regions of the galaxy. He even wanted to thank her for
trying to save him from a life of anguish at great personal
expense. Yet as he took a few steps forward, a chill went through
him. The dread of his impending Initiation, the irreversible
death of his old life, lodged huge and heavy in his chest. For a
selfish moment, he wanted to be the comforted rather than the
comforter. He wanted to curl up inside Skalosak, to thaw his
shivering nerves, to hide from this dark world and the Queen who ruled
it …
… And suddenly the door slid open. Two hulking figures
stood in the doorway, almost as large as Skalosak, both armed and
coldly austere.
“Keep away from the boy,” growled the giant muscular wolf.
“I haven’t even touched him,” snarled Skalosak,
glaring at the two guards as if harbouring years of bitter rivalry.
“Don’t give us that crap,” hissed the second guard,
who resembled a bipedal crocodile. “That was very cute of
you to hack your own security system. You’ve just earned a
decade of extra surveillance, and lost a few privileges in the
deal. Now get to your feet. Right now.”
Skalosak lifted herself to her full height, staring steadily at the
guards as if challenging them. The guards barged in, batons
outstretched and crackling with electrical energy.
“No funny business this time,” said the crocodile, “or else you get this right between the eyes.”
“Nice suitcase,” said Skalosak, looking at his scales.
“Yeah, and nice carpet, bitch,” said the crocodile, looking
at Skalosak’s fur. “Now prove you have more nous than
pretty decor and turn around with your paws behind your back.”
As Skalosak obeyed the reptilian guard, the wolf turned to Damiel,
almost making him jump. “Are you all right?” he said.
“We were just talking,” said Damiel. “She’s done nothing wrong.”
“We know what she tried to do,” said the wolf, his voice
softened to a more human level. “She’s done it
before. Her part of the net was temporarily blocked, but we fixed
that as quick as we could.”
The crocodile stood close behind Skalosak, fastening something silvery and noose-like around her wrists.
“Trying out big bouncy mammals, now, are we?” purred Skalosak. “Snuggling up for winter?”
“First you would have to drug me out of my fucking mind,” hissed the reptile.
“Ah, yes,” said Skalosak. You’d know a thing or two about that as well, won’t you?”
“I know why she wanted to do it,” the wolf said to Damiel,
his golden eyes bright and sincere. “She obviously cares
for you greatly, and I understand that you’ve forgiven her.
But recruits must be protected by law as much as any one of us.”
The reptile gently pressed the baton against the back of
Skalosak’s neck, making her hiss and throw her head back.
The fur on her neck bristled like cactus spines.
“Don’t hurt her!” shouted Damiel, running toward the
Siberoo. The giant wolf reached out his paw and gently grabbed
Damiel by the shoulder, holding him like a vice.
“She’s all right,” said the wolf. “In a
few hours she’ll be as happy as a kitten with a new ball of
yarn. A few days of regular treatment and she’ll be back to
normal. We need her. For all her little quirks, she’s
still one of our best.”
“Which is why she hasn’t completely lost her
privacy,” said the reptile. “Yet.” He
herded Skalosak towards the door.
“Skalosak!” shouted Damiel.
The guard and captive paused on the threshold. Skalosak turned to
face Damiel, still herself, her blue stare soft and stoic.
“Thank you,” said Damiel. “Thank you for everything.”
“Be strong,” said Skalosak. “I’ll see you
after your Initiation. I’ll greet you as one of
us.” There was a hint of sorrow in her final
sentence. She turned away as the reptile herded her out the door.
“It’s time for you to leave, too,” said the
wolf. “I’ll escort you down to your guest
quarters. Marishison will meet you there afterwards. But
whatever you do, just get some rest first. You have only six
hours until your Initiation. It would be best to keep your wits
about you when you face Her Infernal Majesty.”
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