*****
She had come of age shortly after midnight on that night three years ago. She was not aware of this. None at F-Sector were. A clerical error during a system malfunction. They had made a manual entry on her birth record and gotten it wrong. Twenty-One instead of Twelve.
She had another nine days, she thought, and she had her plans to escape to the desert, already in place.
Could she have done it earlier she would have. But one does not make the attempt at the desert border crossing in isolation. There are beings to be paid off that one does not short change and live to tell about it.
It would take her another three days of the disgusting, horrid jobs she performed here and there, to finally have enough to pay what was required of her.
Four of them.
They dragged her from her bed as soon as her real age turned.
Identical, black visored horrors. The helmets hid every trace of their humanity. The black needle probes which fed into their pineals connected them to each other, and to those who controlled them. They put them on and became something else.
Vanquish screamed for Sola and Thet. She kicked at the Echelon and did nought but send the meagre belongings on her nightstand flying.
No-one helped her. No-one came for her.
Down the stairs and through the doorway to the yard they carried her as she screamed. The still, sweet, cloying air of night hit her. There was no moon. And the yard was in darkness.
But as they dragged her closer to the benches and swings, some of the black shadows parted, and she realized there were more of them, cloaked and visored.
She saw the smoldering remnants of a pit fire. Thick candles dripped black wax on red earth. Vanquish turned in the direction of soft mewling and gasped. They had a firebird, rare, sacred and beautiful. This one was bloodied and distressed, its eyes wild and its pulse beating erratically.
It looked pleadingly at Vanquish, and her heart broke that she could not aid it. She could see now they had chained it cruelly, its wings bent back at sharp angles.
She struggled furiously.
But they had the gag ready. It was laced with something. She could smell it keenly under her nose and feel it tingle against her lips. Whatever it was, it was potent.
The firebird whimpered.
The clouds broke then, and the full moon washed over the yard and made her pray for darkness. There was so many of them. And there were other things.
Mercifully, her prayer for darkness was answered. They shoved her forward towards the fire and she felt its light and heat wash over her. One of them threw a powder on it and the flames flared blue and violet. The smell was sweet and sharp all at once and her eyes began to water.
Her wrists were bound tight behind her. The rope cut into her flesh, and the grip two of them still kept on her upper arms was bruising. But it was all that kept her upright. The drug on the gag took her legs out from under her.
He was cloaked and visored identically to the others, but the way they parted for him, she knew he must be some form of leader.
He stopped very close and tilted his head at her, studying her.
He was so close to her she could feel the heat from his body dance between them.
His black, gloved hand shot out and took her hard about the throat.
Vanquish fought to draw breath and thought she was done for.
But he was merely holding her while they secured the blindfold.
He lessened the strength of his grip around her throat when they had it in place, but he did not remove his hand.
As she took painful breaths, she felt the night air on her bare skin, and knew suddenly, awfully, that they had disrobed her.
Something cold and metal was placed against her. It was long. The top of it rested between her breasts, the base of it pressed into the top of her sex.
The cold metal pulsed with magic and Vanquish felt like all the forces of the cosmos were teasing her, flicking at her, preparing to enter.
And something inside of her rushed to meet it.
The forces met. And exploded.
There was a moment of pleasure so intense it was unimaginable. And then it became too much and Vanquish felt like she would literally burst apart from within at the force of it.
He pulled away from her then, taking the cold, metal with him.
Vanquish gasped as it left her. The feeling of it parting from her was unbearable. The force inside of her which had exploded against it leapt out at it.
The voice was faint at first. In her head it spoke to her. Filled her mind with its presence. It sounded almost amused at her situation. And underneath it was a song. She knew this song. She had heard it in her dreams before.
“Easy, child. Back to yourself. Easy, now,” the voice calmed her. She became more aware of her surroundings. She could hear them talking now.
“There is something about this one.”
“Yes, but she is not the one.”
“A pity. A great, great pity.”
“Yes, but the night need not be wasted. She is not the one, but she has magic a plenty for us.”
“And she is exquisite.”
“Bring her here. Let me taste her.”
Vanquish’s calm vanished. And the voice was silent.
The ones behind her pushed her roughly. And others were there to catch her roughly and pull her down hard on to a bench.
They worked her bare back along its jagged surface.
Her tightly bound wings cushioned some of her skin. But the parts that didn’t, ripped against the wood, sharp splinters embedding themselves deep in her flesh.
And her wings. She could feel the edges and feathers tear.
Fear over-rode all else. Godds, what did they want from her!
And in that moment of despair and unknowing, they had the opening they wanted.
She heard the swing creak as he pushed past it. And as he came at her in a rush she felt the mind splinter.
And it put the physical splinters of the wooden bench to shame.
The tingle of connection at the base of her skull lasted only a second. Then she felt him push his way into her, ripping through the defenses of her mind like they were nothing.
The pressure on her brain was enormous. He was ruthless and brutal.
They had the cold metal on her again now. But this time they did different things with it. Things which brought shame greater than pain. And terror which made her earlier fear pale in comparison.
As she felt her mind begin to break.
She realized this was what they wanted.
And she realized, even in the midst of this, she still had a choice. Still had options. Because there was a tiny part of her that could never break, no matter what was done to the rest of her. The voice held this tiny part of her up for her to take it. Not for long. A mere mili-second.
In most, it would go unnoticed. But most were not aware this tiny part of themselves even existed.
Vanquish had not been aware, prior to this briefest mili-second of time. But the Echelon were correct, there was something about her.
And in her awareness and the voice’s offering she grabbed at it. Took that tiny part of herself and anchored herself to it.
The Echelon currently working her, felt it and grabbed at it also. But he was too late. And she heard him growl in frustration.
“What?”
It was the other who had held her by the throat before.
She felt, rather than saw, his presence stride towards her.
Roughly, he pushed the other Echelon away from her as he ripped the blindfold from her. He held her chin tight, staring deep into her eyes.
Eventually he grunted and released her. “You fools,” he said quietly. “Finish it.” He added over his shoulder as he strode away from her again.
And she felt a part of her essence taken then. As much as they could take. But it was without that one bit they truly desired.
But still, it was enough.
> And she knew that the little they did have they would use for their magic.
And she knew also, that she would never fly again and that her wings would be useless.
Sorrow engulfed her.
Distantly she heard the firebird cry and its hot blood hiss on the flames when they sacrificed it.
Then one of them was above her with a clenched, gloved fist that came down hard and true, and she lost all consciousness.
She awoke in the med bay, lying on her stomach.
Daylight through the windows. The nurse finished whatever she was doing to her back, and left her, saying nothing.
It hit her in the stomach, almost physical, the memories, the terror and the darkness.
It threatened to engulf her but the voice was there again. “Easy. Back to yourself, child. Easy.”
And underneath the voice was the song.
The darkness lifted. Not completely, But long enough for Vanquish to open a box for it. She would hide it in there. Keep it tucked away safe and sound. Away from her. Away from everyone.
They did not come back for her.
It made no difference. Still, she did not sleep.
At first, because she was terrified. The terror would never leave her completely. But over time, much time, the sharp thrusts of it dulled to a throb. She slept light then and would wake at anything. Any small noise on the stairs. The slightest creaking of the swings down below.
But Vanquish was Ok with this. Because this was her mission now. She would not leave F-Sector. She would not take herself to the ghettos to live and die pointlessly among Moethiica’s forgotten.
No, she would stay here and help the others. The other Silff children they dumped here. She would teach and she would guide and she would sleep lightly.
And if anyone kicked their meagre belongings off their nightstand and screamed her name, she would be there for them.
She would answer their screams. She would join their plight and fight for them. She would not be able to stop the Echelon, that she knew. But anyone who screams deserves to be answered, to be fought for. To know that at least one other will stand with them against the terror and say, “You are not alone here.”
It was not the Rebel Alliance in the desert.
But it would do.