Dark Matters_ Shadow of Heaven (Book 3) - Christie Golden [12]
The Entity knew pain. The pain of the victim, and the pain of the doctor.
And it knew anger at the dark matter, anger at those who valued torment over healing, subjugation over art. It did not drift upon Danara Pel, it charged her, hurtling through her system and ripping the dark matter from her cells. Danara gasped and staggered backward, a bloody instrument in her hand. Recognition passed over her face, and the Entity realized that Danara knew it the way it knew Danara. But it did not linger for confirmation.
Borne by the heat of its anger, it swept through the ship. It hurtled through the bodies of the slaves and masters alike, gathering the wrong things and neutralizing their darkness. It paused for a moment, hovering beside Pektar Sirumal, repulsed by the dark matter writhing in his body and systematically devouring his brain. If it removed the dark matter, there was not enough natural matter to keep him alive. To purge him would be to kill him.
The anger faded. The more familiar sensation of compassion took its place. It had to be done. The mutated dark matter had to be retrieved. The Entity would kill as kindly as it could.
Gently, like the softest of rain showers, the Entity descended on the leader of the Charasin. They were a hard people, and their ideology was not one of understanding, but they were not monsters. No species was, though individuals could become monstrous. The Entity coursed through Pektar's system, as tenderly as it could, and in his angry, infected brain, it planted thoughts of pleasure and calm.
Pektar stiffened, then relaxed into his command chair. He saw before him scenes from a long-ago childhood. Faces long dead smiled at him. Slowly, softly, the Entity plucked the dark matter from his brain. There was not enough natural matter to take over the higher functions, so the Entity told Pektar to sleep, sleep deeply and well. And as he closed his eyes for the last time, he thought he saw another face, one he did not know; that of a beautiful woman standing before him, wreathed in gold, with a smile of tenderness upon her lips and compassion in her blue, blue eyes.
CHAPTER 4
CHAKOTAY'S MOUTH HURT FROM SMILING so MUCH. HE hadn't realized how much he missed the little luxuries he had come to take for granted living in the twenty-fourth century. The sonic shower beat sluicing down with algae-infested rainwater hands down, and if the dinner hadn't had the delicious flavor of fruits freshly harvested or meat roasted slowly over an open pit, at least it had been served on a table with eating implements and napkins. It didn't hurt that he was being treated as an honored guest and feted to.the nines, either. He stepped out of the shower, the second one he'd had that day, and began to dress in the tailored, fitted clothing he was coming to realize was standard among the Alilann. Ramma the weaver had made him and Tom beautiful robes that fit well and were exquisitely comfortable. More comfortable and more attractive, truth be told, than the clothes he shrugged into now. But these felt right to him in a way that the Culilann clothes, beautiful, functional, and handmade, had not. He made sure to fasten the small gold translation device to his chest. The Culilann might have a facility with alien languages that bordered on incredible, but the Alilann, just like the Federation, had to rely on artificial means of translating language.
He had to admit, he'd enjoyed his time with the villagers of Sumar-ka. But he was glad to be among an advanced species again, with comforts that were more familiar to him. And now, he finally had a chance of locating his ship, something that would have been impossible if he had lingered in Sumar-ka. His only regret was that he had not