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Mal’ik narrowed his eyes. “Is Tesh even still in there?”
The torvar lifted a single shoulder. “Who could say? He wasn’t a very forceful personality to begin with.”
Mal’ik didn’t have an answer to that. His feet wanted to stay rooted to the spot or to turn and run. His mind wanted some reassurance that he was safe, that his mind and body would remain his own. But his brain knew he didn’t have the time for either.
He forced himself to step up to the heavy glass door that separated them and opened the keypad. “I need you to take me to your leader.”
The torvar straightened up at that, his languorous posture dropping off like a blanket.
“And why would I do that?”
“Because I have useful skills and experience. I’m Cap—”
“I know who you are,” the torvar cut him off. “Mal’ik of Klah. Part of the original force that invaded Southern Tava. Part of the occupying force for years afterward. Surprisingly popular with the locals for all that you were one of the bad guys—some of them are still in contact with you. Getting on in years now, some would say past your prime, but they wouldn’t say it very loudly. One of the likely picks for commander once we started this war.” The torvar cocked his head. “Did that not happen?”
Mal’ik glanced up from the keypad to the torvar, not giving it the satisfaction of seeing him discomfited. “It did.”
“Was the promotion not enough?” the torvar asked as though they had the time to analyze Mal’ik’s motivations.
“I’m not interested in a promotion.” Mal’ik input the code to unlock the glass door. He paused, steeled himself, and then pressed enter. “I’m not interested in working for the Klah’Eel anymore at all.”
The torvar leaned forward as the glass door released with a hiss, though his wrists were still bound behind the back of his chair. “You’re interested in joining the Resistance?”
Mal’ik’s lip curled. He had never thought the answer to that question would be yes.
The torvar laughed. “Oh and you look so happy about it.”
“I’m interested in protecting the people.” Mal’ik circled the torvar to get a look at his wrists. They were bound to either end of a spacer so that one couldn’t help untie the other. The skin under the zip ties wasn’t chafed, meaning the torvar hadn’t been struggling. Mal’ik didn’t know if that was because the torvar knew he could never get out or if it was because he knew he could and didn’t need to struggle. The latter wasn’t a comforting thought. “And you’re my only option right now.”
“Maybe, but you’re not our only option.” The torvar glanced over his shoulder at him. “You’d be useful, don’t get me wrong, but why should we trust you?”
“Because I’m here doing this.” Mal’ik unslung his gatlung and used the blade at the end to cut each of the torvar’s wrists free.
The spacer dropped to the ground with a clatter, and the torvar brought his hands back around to the front and massaged them. “A compelling piece of evidence, I’ll give you that.”
“What’s your name?”
“What?” The torvar stood and turned to face him.
“What’s your name?” Mal’ik slung the gatlung back over his shoulder. “We’re about to steal a ground transport and betray our country together. I’d like to know your name.”
“Your country.” The torvar dropped his wrists back down. “What, your intelligence units haven’t even figured out my name yet?”
“No one uses it. You’re just called ‘the torvar.’”
“And that’s not good enough for you?”
“No.”
The torvar put his hands on his hips and shifted his weight so that his left hip cocked out slightly. It was a distinctly un-klah’eel-like mannerism, and it gave Mal’ik another twinge of discomfort to see Tesh’s body doing it. “Sebastian.”
“Sebastian? That’s very—”
“Human, yes.” The torvar—Sebastian—nodded. “I was raised in a human body. Shall I tell you about my mother as well? Maybe the little dog I had growing up? Or are we escaping?”
Mal’ik pressed his lips together. “We’re escaping.”
“And this too?” Sebastian pointed to the metal casing around his neck. It could be unlocked with the same code used to open the door.
