Alec came to the realization that he was not yet dead slowly. And painfully. The universe seemed to be pulling him apart. The act of opening his eyes felt like it took his remaining energy. There was a loud thrumming noise that drowned everything out, along with a soft orange glow. He tried to focus his vision and willed some Aamaranth into his arm. The vial was not there, nothing came, and Alec nearly threw up. Beyond the difficulty of moving small muscles, he felt his entire form was stuck, suspended in mud.

  He managed to focus his eyes and found he was indeed suspended in the middle of a room. Around him, blast marks littered the wall as if someone had been testing bombs in here. It felt as if someone had turned an impact suit inside out, and it was slowly crushing him. In fact, if not for him, he felt this would be nearly crushing the life out of him. He looked down towards where his revolver should be, nothing, not even the spurs of his boots as far as a weapon went. He was still fully clothed, but he felt violated, knowing someone had gone through every inch of his person. It was probably that salivating Zeslim.

  A voice cracked over the intercom, and Alec looked around for its source. It was the baron's voice, and Alec could see his face in a small round viewport on a large door about twelve feet away. "It is a marvellous thing, no? We use these chambers to contain unstable Aamaranth. It followed logic that of the few places in the universe to hold you, this one seemed designed for purpose."

  Alec sneered and tried to muster a response. Floating there as dangerous as a drooling infant, he felt no words or thoughts of bravado. The baron continued. "I was wondering what I would do with you, Madam Zelsim wants me to allow her to take you apart bit by bit and study you." Alec heard a squeal of excitement over the intercom; she was clearly present. "My soldiers want me to turn up the containment until you crack and pop. My gut tells me there is yet another use for you, and so we find ourselves here."

  The baron's face disappeared for a moment, and the thrumming began to dissipate. Alec felt the suffocating pressure from around him begin to lessen as he slowly lowered to the floor. He heard massive pressure locks release on the door with the viewport, and it began to slide to the side with a hiss of steam. The four riders of the apocalypse crew stood flanking the door in pairs. It was unnerving to watch them breathe, blink, and fidget in unison. The one Alec shot through the goggles had a new pair but a fresh bruise and a small trail of blood still running from the eye behind. In the middle of the guard stood the baron and Madam Zelsim. Against the back wall, Alec counted seven shadowed figures hunched over in fear.

  "Do not make any sudden moves." The baron's voice rang clear, and Alec wished it were necessary. With multiple internal systems crying out for Aamaranth, it took all Alec had to stand upright in defiance. "We can accomplish this business with you standing there. I'd like to introduce you to the seven singers of the Teretha." Lights turned on to reveal the forms of the seven stripped Teretha elders. The seven, well eight actually, were a part of every Teretha group, and they watched over the most important aspects of life. The dream singers brought spiritual wisdom, the war singers counselled on safety, wilderness singers brought the food, and so on down the line.

  The baron continued in a silky voice. "They have yet to replace Tusong as their leader, but these will do." The baron walked over to a table, where lay Alec's revolver and his ammo belt. The baron picked it up with ease; the size did not bother him, and he loaded it slowly. "You had me thinking, man, about the merits of what you do. See, I like commodities, rare ones. My collection is full of them, and I began to ponder what it would take to entice a man like you."

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  He walked over to the line of Teretha people, paused for a moment, then walked up to a proud-looking woman. She stared him in the eyes with defiant hate. "I thought, perhaps the way to you is a family tie, a child. But you have none." In a moment, a gunshot rang out, a splatter of blood hit the wall, and the woman hit the floor in a heap. She must have been the future singer, in charge of the tribes children. "Then I thought, perhaps bodily harm." Bang! Another Teretha fell to the ground dead by Alecs' gun. The sinew singer is responsible for healing in the tribe. "But how would one harm an immortal.

  Alec felt that not having Aamaranth was a special kind of torture, but he would not let the baron see it. "I thought to starve you, to steal your protection or to defy your god." Bang, bang, Bang! Three more on the floor as the baron smiled and Alec's revolver smoked. There were two left standing, but Alec didn't hold out much hope. This parade of violence had a very specific purpose. The baron would lock him up and expect the thought of this to torment Alec more than any physical torture ever could. Von Sinclair was an excellent judge of character; he could give him that, even if begrudgingly.

  "I thought it was much better to let you feel the weight of your decisions through others." Bang and a final bang. Two more bodies, one bullet left. Alec mustered what breath he could, feeling the weight and pain of every movement. He whittled a low tone and pointed at the soldier he had cyclopsed earlier. He finally spoke to cover the action; he knew what would come next. The baron was far too petty a man to let Alec walk away physically unscathed. That last bullet was meant for him, most likely in a spot that would not kill but cause intense pain.

  "Don't know what you're talking about…" Bang! The sound interrupted Alec's subterfuge; the baron may be cunning, but he had the patience of a toddler. The bullet flew from the barrel and took a whip-loop turn. There was another shatter of goggles as the bullet found its mark in the other eye of the apocalypse crew member. All four reached up to cradle the eye, and the baron looked shocked. Madam Zelsim let out a terrified scream and punched a large red button on her control pad. Alec at once felt the pressure in the room lift him up by the ribs and begin to suffocate him in a crucified position. The door began to close, and Madam Zelsim walked over to the injured soldier before it closed.

  The baron looked through the viewing window with a triumphant sneer. Alec knew in his heart the elation at hurting the soldier would be short-lived. Already, the faces of every Teretha in Tusongs' camp were mixing with the seven from the camp outside the baron's town. They were one and the same, and standing by one meant standing by all. Maywil was right, the Teretha would free themselves, but Alec would be damned if he didn't do everything he could to help. He needed to make sure the township's innocent and oppressed were equally saved. That would involve getting the ear of someone influential, and all he had met in this baron's hold were also well in the baron's hands.

  This contract was full of firsts, and as Alec stared at the baron's smug face, he did something he had never even considered before. He beseeched the oil-god for help. Or at least one of the servants of the sham creator. The baronhood kept their loyal troops and followers in line through the wing-nut lessons preached by the oil gods' church. To deny that power would be to undermine their own propaganda. It may not work, but Alec had to try to at least buy some time, if not give a warning to the people. He called out to Baron Von Sinclair with a loud voice, mustering the breath to make sure he was heard by the soldiers in attendance.

  "Get me a priest, I need to confess."