Author's Note
Thanks so much for reading (and for waiting SO long)! If you're new to the series, I strongly encourage you to go back to the beginning! This part expands a lot of the world and begins to dig deep into the future of the story. Don't spoil yourself! Thanks again, and enjoy!
Chapter 23: Immediacy
Lucas walked in front of Sarea with his shoulders hunched. Sarea wanted to reach out and rub his back, to take his hand, to do anything to comfort him. Then she wanted to scream because that thought wasn't
hers
was it?
These fucking drugs
. Still, it wouldn't really be for his benefit, would it? No. He had been so stable and calm that seeing him this distraught had let fear creep through her mind. Not just fear, something larger and worse. An existential terror. Could she survive this without him? What had happened in there? Why was Lucas shaking?
In her mind, his presence shimmered in a dozen different hues, each a reflection of an emotion or thought that rattled around his mind. She hadn't seen him this turbulent, yet. He had always been a single color, a single tone, in control, his thoughts in hand and his purpose clear. Now, though, Sarea thought she could poke and prod at the bond and he'd crumble, turn into a blubbering mess just when she needed him strong. While that troubled her, she had her own worries to contend with.
Sarea still leaked lube. She realized it also had narcotic or aphrodisiac elements, tainting her thoughts, molding her. Layers on layers of manipulation. For every biological and mental protection she'd built for herself over years of netrunning and hacking, Covenant had a weapon against it. The nightmare of the previous two days only deepened as she realized how insidious these drugs were. She'd been raped, again, and instead of being repulsed at the vile act, she had felt
good
. Instead of hating the man who had done it, she was
worried
about him. She knew each time it happened was a chink in her armor, but armor could be repaired. The fear that gnawed at Sarea's mind now was what permanent damage this was doing to her and whether she'd even know it.
Sarea was tired of drugs and tired of her mind lying to her. She was tired of her drug-addled mind coaxing feelings for this hulking brute, her
rapist
. Bile rose in her throat as she followed Terese and Lucas. Sarea blinked the tears away and coughed. She had known life could change in the blink of an eye. Hers had, twice. First when her father died, the second when she'd gotten her first modifications, but this was different. It wasn't just a different life trajectory, a new job. She was a prisoner. A sex slave, practically. She clenched her fists and tried her mods again.
After her dad had died, Sarea had been lost. She'd wandered the streets of San Francisco looking for any means of survival, even if it meant rubbing elbows-and worse-with the wrong people. For a few years, it had been all right. She made ends meet, crafted underworld connections across the country, learned to hack and netrun. Then Otis came along. He was big and gentle-at first-and cared, until he didn't. Sarea hadn't even seen the snare and the trap, hadn't realized she'd become a prisoner, addicted and scared, used for whatever Otis wanted that night. Humanity had changed, but opium hadn't. Her addiction had been complete, a backbreaking weight that she relied on Otis to fix.
Eventually, every part of her had been taken and co-opted until Sarea didn't know who she was anymore, other than a toy for Otis and whatever friend or john wanted her. Days turned into weeks, weeks turned into months, and she woke one morning, shaking from withdrawal, to find that two years had passed. Otis had shaken her awake, told her she had a client. Sarea had begged for a hit, anything to help beforehand, but Otis just smacked her. To this day, Sarea didn't know why that smack had changed everything, but it had. She scraped and saved, stealing any credit she could from any man or woman who rented her out.
Only a few months later, she'd saved enough for her first mods, getting hacked apart and put back together in a back alley hospital. When she'd returned to Otis' place, high on painkillers and buzzing with vengeance, she flexed her new actuators almost to breaking as she tore Otis in two. She swore she'd never be a prisoner like that again.
Yet here she was. A prisoner again. She knew she was still in shock, that her mind was protecting her from the horror of what had happened, or at least she hoped it was shock. In truth, it might be something more.
The most infuriating part was the compulsion. The complete body betrayal. Disiac wasn't like opiates. It wasn't like anything else. She couldn't trust her own thoughts. The fact that she wanted to
comfort
this man at all stunned her, and yet there it was, the feeling, the compulsion. Sarea sighed and reminded herself that more than anything, she was a survivor, and she'd survive this, too. Even if it meant playing her part until she could escape. Sarea just hoped she wouldn't be too far gone at the end of all this.
The group entered a large cafeteria. It was like any other corporate headquarters lunch room except all around them were women and men in various states of undress, the chains of their station on them. The Kept here were mostly without their masters, though it was clear to Sarea that some few people here were of a higher order than her. Tables lined the walls and filled the central atrium. Broad windows on the eastern side showed Lake Michigan through the clouds, its murky, polluted water reflecting the sun in ruddy yellow streaks.
Sarea fought the urge to cringe and cover her most vulnerable parts with her hands. Her skin suit, just opaque enough to not reveal
everything
revealed enough. Sarea knew she was beautiful and fit-she'd paid enough at the doctor for it-but she didn't relish being so exposed to anyone who would look, and people looked. The cafeteria had the air of a high school lunchroom, at least among those in servitude. Sarea noted that those with more ornate chains, often strewn with charms whose meaning Sarea did not know, wore more clothes. Appraising looks glanced off of Sarea and Lucas, some with pity in their eyes, others with envy, more with malice. Sarea put her chin up.
Terese turned to them, "You have an hour for lunch. Collect yourself, eat lightly. This afternoon will not be intense, all things considered, but it will be new."
She didn't wait for a response and left. Apparently the cafeteria was beneath her. Lucas just stood there. His eyes were distant, his jaw slack. Sarea steadied her mind and breathing, then took his hand in hers and led him gently to the food lines. His hand was massive, dwarfing hers completely, but he locked his fingers into hers and gripped her tightly. Covenant seemed to care a great deal about their slaves. The cafe served rich foods, rice pilaf and some kind of stew, and salads. It was cafeteria fare, but high quality.
Sarea heeded Terese's advice. She put together two simple plates of food, greens, fats, proteins. Something to sustain them without getting too full. Given the debauched events up to this point, she hated to think what might come next, but they needed their strength. With their plates full, Sarea surveyed the room. There were spots at tables with other Kept; Sarea considered joining them to get more information, but their body language spoke volumes. Stay away, sit elsewhere.
Instead, they took a place at an empty, small table in the middle of the cafeteria. Lucas wouldn't look at her. His eyes trained on his food as he mechanically ate. The bond still shimmered in different hues. Was his hand shaking? Sarea studied him discreetly, thinking of some way to keep him steady and stable long enough for them to get through this. They ate in silence until Sarea could take it no longer.
"What happened in there, Lucas?" she asked.
He stopped mid-bite. "You didn't see? Feel it?"
"I mean, I
