Chapter Text
It didn’t take long for the other one to come back. She “heard” the piercing squeal before it even rounded the corner. Somehow the even smaller cell managed to make everything worse. At least in the other one she could try to run for the back. Not that it had ever mattered.
The passage of time was oddly quick. When it stopped and the room swam back into view she was laying against the bars in the front of the cell. There were figures standing on the other side, just within reach. She could finally reach out and touch them but the energy wouldn’t flow anymore. Not without hurting and maybe not at all.
It was obviously too early. Anyone in their right mind knew that. The knee wasn’t healed yet, let alone the arm. When they realized Maziah had returned for it they tried to put a stop to it but they wouldn’t hear differently.
Their thrall stepped out of the cell and moved between them. It was a surface fae about the same height as Xotchtil, and uncomfortably close. It had a long metal rod it set casually over it’s shoulder. Xotchtil backed away a step.
They tried talking sense into Maziah, We both know you haven’t gotten anything in months, and you probably won’t at all.
They took it as an insult, This creature is my responsibility. I will do whatever I want with it.
Maziah continued speaking, but Xotchtil had stopped listening. Their thrall’s weapon had numerous chips and slight bends. It looked like a discarded chunk of metal, and they hadn’t understood it to have any kind of magical significance. Now, though, it was faintly glowing at the tip with a small blue aura. I think we should-
YOU DON’T THINK, that’s the entire-
Their thrall jolted suddenly, it’s whole body arching painfully as a bolt of lightning exited it and grounded itself into the bars of the cell next to it. It collapsed to the ground and opened it’s mouth in a silent scream.
Xotchtil jumped back and Maziah did the same. It wouldn’t have mattered; the specimen wouldn’t be doing it again. It was laying on the floor completely limp, one arm extended out into the hall. They could feel the discordant, rattling ache of the other arm, the broken one, under the empty noise of it’s lost consciousness.
Maziah’s thrall gasped for breath again. Xotchtil was amazed it was still alive. It was lucky the specimen’s arm and magic were broken.
You need to fix this said Maziah
What
Isn’t that what you’re good for? You fix this kind of thing.
Fix what? Your error?
Your error. You moved it out of containment.
They managed to push down an entire list of objections and defense of their expert judgement in favor of a better idea. I want payment.
What kind of payment?
I want this specimen. You’re right that it’s been your responsibility. Make it mine.
What do you want with it?
Why do you care?
There was a long pause.
Maziah threw their hands up in disgust, Agreed.
They would have to be careful not to let it touch them when they returned, but the specimen was safe enough where it was. They took the thrall back to the laboratory.
It’s injuries were remarkably mild, which Xotchtil attributed to the specimen being weakened. Mostly there were just burns branching out in fractals where the electricity had passed through. The left calf was burned where the electricity went in, the right hip was burned where it went out, and it’s hands were burned where it had been holding it’s improvised weapon.
They weren’t sure if anything else was wrong with it, and they told Maziah as much, but it had a heartbeat, and all of it’s limbs seemed to work well enough. Considering past victims, these were blessings.
They applied salve and bandages to the burns, and recommended Maziah be careful with it for a few weeks.
The specimen was sitting up when Xotchtil got back to it. It’s head and arm were aching, poorly channeled magic still resonating.
You need to stop doing this.
“You need to leave me alone.”
You’re only hurting yourself.
“We’ve already had this talk.”
Precisely.
It’s thoughts peaked with irritation,“Don’t you have someone else to bother?”
Yes, actually. But I keep having to have this conversation instead.
They really didn’t have time for a side project like this. Their predecessor had not handled anything, as far as they could tell. The original colony records they’d inherited listed the population at three times its actual size, which had made the projected nutritional and labor requirements absurd, and the facilities unmanageably huge. A full third of the holding cells stood empty at any one time. They’d spent their first year recalculating everything. Things were still breaking constantly, and there were always accidents happening or getting ready to.
They tried resonance stones. Maziah never would’ve allowed a calming one when it was their responsibility. It would’ve interfered with the cumulative effect of the interrogations. Xotchtil had abided by this rule at the time. No reason to give them another excuse for why they had failed to obtain any information.
It turned out it didn’t matter anyway. They left the calming stone in the customary position near the cell while it was sleeping. They generally worked best if the subject didn’t notice the initiation of effect. Later that day they felt a strong sense of irritation all the way from the other side of the facility, and returned to find the stone had been thrown all the way to the end of the hall. Placing it out of reach did nothing but prolong the irritation.
They knew how to handle obstinance. It was a matter of pitting your own unrelenting will against the will of a subject. Rewards and consequences had to be carried out with a implacable consistency.
This was not obstinance. This was chaos, like a swirling storm.
It kept trying to generate lightning, no matter how much it hurt. If it failed it would pace, scream, and occasionally punch the wall. It usually failed. Then it would get still and quiet for a long time, it’s head filled with static. It didn’t make the noises it used to anymore, the ones that sounded different when they listened with its ears. Screaming sounded the same regardless.
So far the splint had held through any abuse but the arm would hurt afterwards. They dreaded having to remove the specimen from it’s cell to re-wrap it. How would they prevent it from attacking them while it worked? Pain wasn’t enough to stop it. The limb just not working properly wasn’t even enough to stop it. It was also likely they wouldn’t even see an attack coming.
The last time they worked on it was a stroke of luck. Both arms had been disabled. At this point the dislocation was tender but for the most part healed. That was the arm it had used to almost kill Maziah’s thrall.
They were going to have to wait and see if it was even necessary. They didn’t like that.
She noticed it had started hanging around, but in a different way than before. There wasn’t anywhere good to sit in the narrow hall so it would sit with it’s back against the cell opposite. She wasn’t used to seeing one of them in such an undignified position.
It mostly read. Before it would sit quietly, sometimes reading or writing, but often doing neither. She had gotten the impression it was listening to her. Now it was mostly reading, but it was also around a lot more. It mostly kept it’s legs tucked up under it or to it’s chest: well out of reach. If it felt the need to stretch them it either got up or laid out straight along the opposite side of the hall.
“What are you reading?” she finally asked one day.
It looked up at her and blinked, staring for a moment before saying anything.
A history of surface dweller’s views on and relationships with dragons.
It continued to stare. Their alien faces could be difficult to interpret but she was fairly certain she was looking at very slight surprise. Something about the way the tentacles froze in the slightest of a curl.
“Ok. Um. You find dragons interesting?”
Not in particular. There’s just many books on the topic in the library here.
“Oh.” There was a long empty silence. “So what are the surface dweller’s views on dragons?”
Limited.
She waited for it to elaborate. It didn’t. It did watch her watching it for a long moment.
Can you read?
“Um. I guess?”
It closed the book and pushed it across the floor to her, careful to never come within reach. Can you read this?
She opened it to a random page near the beginning. It was geographic information on where different types of dragons could be found.
“Yeah, actually. Why?”
You can keep it if you like. I have others as well, and on other topics.
It went three days without hurting itself, excepting a few incidences of trying to draw up lightning.