The Pawn ((tr'Radaik))

[Kelton tr'Radaik 0]

He left the box on the daise's desk. She would find it when she arrived for her next shift. There would be na note, na explanation. t'Ksa would perhaps be surprised, perhaps suspicious. Perhaps she would recognize the ill source they came from, or perhaps she might acknowledge the possibility of a friendly source among the medical staff, ignore caution, do as tr'Usten wanted her to do.

 

And then Kelton would have to play his role.

 

He played the words over and over again in his mind as he moved rapidly away from the medical bay down the corridor. He was to inform tr'Usten as soon as t'Ksa consumed whatever was in that box he had left on her desk. When he did, tr'Usten's words subtly implied, she would become more...docile. Drugged, then. It took neither Kelton's recent experience nor his medical training to make that leap.

 

And then he would assist tr'Usten in removing the daise'maenek to another ship, one belonging to tr'Usten's "superiors." One of the men who had beaten and drugged Kelton initially, perhaps, and with no doubt hardly better intentions in mind for his daise. The young man's handsome features curled in a silent snarl of frustrated fury, then relaxed abruptly as he slid past another officer into the lift back to his quarters.

 

He didn't like it. There was no way he could like it. But there was no way out, either. He was trapped. From the very moment they had struck him across the head in that back-alley house in Rat'leihfi where he had only wished to do good, they had had him at their mercy.

 

He stepped into his quarters, letting the door shut behind him and setting down the two new vials in what had become their accustomed place -- the top of his desk opposite the bed. They gleamed invitingly, offering the fuzzy, tingling oblivion that had become both a respite and a curse in the last few weeks. But he did not touch them, just sat on the bed and looked at them.

 

What have I become?

 

It would not be a day before the business would commence, perhaps. It was all moving too quickly. There was no time to catch his breath, determine the right course, or any course at all besides the one he had been steered towards. But there was no time to convince himself of that course either.

 

What have I become?

 

The question repeated in his head. He had no choice. If he ignored tr'Usten's instructions, the man would move on t'Ksa anyway, and Kelton's life would merely be forfeit into the bargain. If he assisted, though...it made him little more than an obedient pup, the last jarring drop off the ladder down which he had been slowly descending ever since he had first tasted the hnaev called defloxso.

 

The vials gleamed, and he stared at them silently. Perhaps they could be his respite after all. His rescue. tr'Usten had given him more than his usual supply, after all. One vial, he knew from growing experience, brought half-consciousness, apathy, sensory deadening, muscle relaxation. A vial and a half might bring a true sleep, one long enough to avoid any contact with the business tr'Usten had in mind. The full two vials at once indeed might trace the pathways of his brain with a harsh enough touch that he might need to fear no such choices ever again.

 

But he would still be a pup, na more, in sum total when the drug had done its work. And the daise'maenek would still be at tr'Usten's mercy. He could not simply ignore what he had wrought by his own weakness. He would have to see it through. But to what end...he could not force his mind to grapple with.

 

Ai'okhala, jaeih, u'avilh...what have I become?

 

Making a noise like a groan, he reached out and selected one...only one...of the vials and opened the lid.

[KhreRiovtRex 0]

Oooo, Menkha log Kelton!! I can na wait to see more! And extra defloxo on the nightstand, no helm for au tonight.

 

Looking forwards to seeing more!!

 

t'Rexan