Page 46 of Cage of Starlight
Vantaras doesn’t take the bait. He’s never met Tory’s eyes so steadily before. Even in therelaxing lightof the infirmary, they’re moltengolden-brown. Tory aches to look away but refuses to give Vantaras the pleasure.
“You might recall that the thing implanted in your neck is a tracker.”
Tory flinches.
“That’s not its only function. What I failed to mention before is that it’s a sort of lit fuse—stellite-powered, so your Seed energies sustain the very device that imprisons you and can kill you if you step out of line.”
“What?”
“As I explained before, the matching compass in the Monitor Room, having been fed a drop of your blood and thus a sample of the Seed that powers your Core, resonates with the Core inside you and can be used to hunt you, which accounts for the tracking and identification features. But they thought it would be funnier still if the Core literally took root inside Seeds, so they employed an altered version of a vine that responds to stellite. Any attempt to remove the tracker will result in the roots it has spread in your body breaking off and remaining behind. Those roots produce an extraordinarily toxic compound when they decay, poisoning your blood and killing you.”
Tory swallows, body tingling with cold. A frenzied rush in his ears mutes the noise of his breath and dyes the dim world darker. Maybe he really is underwater. His hand goes to his shoulder where his Core was planted.
“If you escape, they will track you with it to find you. You die if you take it out, so theywillfind you.”
“Stop.”
Vantaras does not stop. “If for whatever reason they cannot reach you, they can disable it remotely using your compass. The Core’sdecaying roots will kill you, but the decay of the Core itself will kill you far faster. It’s a graceless, agonizing death. If you leave without permission or fail to maintain regular contact while performing an authorized mission and they judge the risk of your capture or escape higher than your use to them, they may disable your Core. Your only choice—thesingle choiceremaining to you—is to do exactly as they ask of you until you die or they kill you. You cannot escape, Mr. Arknett. The second the Core was placed in your body, you signed over everything you are to the Vantaras family.”
Tory laughs to cover the other sound that wants to escape him. “You have one, too?”
“Of course. As you’ve observed, I am also a Seed.”
“Even your big connections couldn’t get you a pass?”
Vantaras chuckles, low and cold. “Had my father compromised for his own son, what would others have said?” He turns away, baring the long scar on his neck. “Do not try something like this again. There are worse things than the Core. You don’t want to find out what they are.”
Tory knows walls. He’s beaten his hands bloody against so many. This is something infinitely more terrible. Walls can be climbed or burned or broken down. Some of them, like the ones in Hulven, are silly things. From far enough away, any wall is laughable. His Core, though, is like the tattoo on his arm—a prison he carries with him.
Tory stares at his blankets. The implantation site for his Core stopped hurting shortly after it was installed. He wants to pinch it, prod it, make it bleed or burn—make it announce itself for what it is.
Vantaras’ gloved fingers rasp at the material of his uniform slacks in quick, precise circles. “This incident has been noted on your record. Security won’t increase for you this time, but make nomistake. They’re looking for excuses to put you further under their thumb. As a Worldseed, you already have the generals’ attention. It’s unwise to give them reason to look closer. If you try to escape again, especially if you make as much of a scene as you did this time, they might decide you need a NOVA.”
“You keep sayingthey,” Tory hisses.
“Pardon me?”
“Theymay disable my Core,they’relooking for excuses.Theymight decide. You’re one of them.”
“Is that what you think?” Vantaras scoffs, one gloved hand skimming the back of his neck. “You’re wrong.”
“I doubt it. You know, you keep giving me all this advice,Lieutenant Vantaras.”
Vantaras flinches.
“‘Don’t make trouble, don’t invite attention, don’t make them hurt you.’ All these rules to make me a smaller target, a perfect little soldier. When do you—do any of you—tell them to stop hurtingus?”
Vantaras stands there, wordless and stricken. “I—”
His mouth snaps closed and he turns to go without a word.
“That’s what I thought,” Tory spits at the door that slams closed behind him.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Arogue shot ofenergy from behind drives Tory into the mud and grass of the training field.
“Damn, sorry!” Gavin calls.
