On this, day 4,882 of our captivity, I want to give you all a present--a reward for hanging in there and not murdering your family and pets or burning down your neighborhood--and there's really only one kind of gift I have to offer. I can't get INVERSION into your hands any faster, but I can give you a little glimpse at it!
If we're still hanging out in our homes next Friday (and let's face it, we will be), come back for a second snippet then.
Caveat 1: Spoilers for CONTINUUM follow. If you haven't finished reading it yet, bookmark this post for later.
Caveat 2: Editing is still ongoing. A few words will likely change before release.
With that, enjoy!
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A Savrakath in military field attire stopped in front of Malcolm’s cell with a hiss. “You are awake. We thought you might die. A surprise that Humans are so frail and fragile.”
“I might still die if you don’t treat this wound. It’s infected.”
“Infection is good for the soul. It tests the body. Strengthens it, if it can pass the trial.”
“Well, I’m not Savrakath, so I’d as soon skip the trial. I’m also no good to you dead. A little antiseptic would go a long way toward keeping me alive.”
The Savrakath sniffed the air. “Prove your worth to us. Give us the name and location of an important but soft Concord target, and we will treat your wounds.”
Prove your worth to us. They didn’t know who he was? Because he’d been on the assault team like a complete moron*, they must have assumed he was just a ground-pounder.
His presence here, in their custody, gave them a more valuable bargaining chip in the conflict with Concord than any hordes of intel he could (but never would) provide, but they didn’t know what they had.
An image of Mia flashed into his mind, stunning in a white silk robe, her long raven hair whipping around her face on the balcony of the suite they’d rented for their unofficial anniversary three months earlier. The urge to utter a meager few words overwhelmed him, and only his Marine training stilled his tongue. Provide his name and rank, and he’d become a high-stakes bargaining chip—and also the best-treated prisoner housed in whatever gulag this was. His wound would be treated post-haste, because the Savrakaths would no longer risk him dying.
But Concord would need to weaken their position in the conflict to trade for him, and he couldn’t allow that to happen. Duty and honor before self. Semper fidelis.
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*Yes, Malcolm joins everyone in the known universe in thinking he was a moron for going.