Chapter Text
Never, in all the plots he’d made over the Turns, had Toric ever expected to land himself in the mess he now found himself sitting in.
He hated her, that stupid off-world woman that had brought him to wherever this was—Toric had been too overwhelmed, too terrified to pay any real notice—but now that his last connection to his home was gone, Toric found himself wishing desperately for Alanya’s company again. At least she was familiar. Even if the bitch had betrayed him in the first place.
Now, however, he was alone, in a very strange place, so far from Pern he had no real concept of the distance. He wasn’t even on the planet anymore. And he’d been shuffled through so many bizarre things Toric wasn’t sure how he’d managed to retain his grip on his sanity…though now that he’d been put, alone, into what vaguely looked like some sort of personal room Toric thought he might just finally have that nervous breakdown he’d been heading toward.
He needed to breathe; he couldn’t panic. Toric closed his eyes and inhaled roughly, fists clenched at his sides as he fought back; only when he heard the door to this—his—room open did he look up, at the strange man regarding him curiously from the doorway.
“Toric of Southern, huh? Well I’m southern too mate, welcome to the Altair System,” the man drawled cheerfully, holding his hand out to Toric; when Toric remained staring at him, unmoving, the man dropped his hand, but the smile remained in place. “Jay Gren, I’m the corrections officer on this ward. Had a look over your file, never heard of your planet before. Not much out your way, huh? Last I heard Sagittarius was under an interdiction. We’re gonna have to put you into the education block first, get you up to speed so you’re not wondering what in the seven hells is going on around here.”
Toric continued to stay frozen in place, thoroughly, terrifyingly overwhelmed; he had no real idea what this new person meant, and mentally he still fought against his circumstances. Jay’s smile shifted into something sympathetic as he entered the room, walking to the console built into one wall and tapping his fingers against the screen.
“We’ll get you set up on voice commands, first, make it easy. You got a choice though, mate—you let this place beat you, or you beat it. And you don’t look like the type to go down without a fight.”
Toric blinked, the man’s words finally sinking in. No, he wouldn’t; he never had. Damn Benden and damn Alanya, too—they may have thought they’d won, but he’d survive this, somehow.
And then he’d figure out how he’d get back at them for it.