The Mercy of Gods (The Captive's War #1)

by James S.A. Corey

The universe tells every being exactly the same implacable truth.

The lone soldier dropped to their knees, then folded in a way unbroken spines didn’t fold, fell in a way intact rib cages didn’t fall, and slumped to the stone in an undifferentiated lump.

It would have been easier, he thought, if they hadn’t been who they were. If the invaders had taken the inmates out of the prisons at Jaumankay or Haurbor, there would have been less of a shock. More of what the administrators called inertial knowledge. How to be still, how to suffer humiliation, how to be debased. Instead, the experience was new to them, and they were about to make some mistakes they couldn’t afford.

He remembered something he’d read when he was young and thinking he might go into the military. A leader must be utterly decisive, especially when giving orders that conflict with the ones from the day before.

“Breakfast time. Can I make you anything?” Campar asked as he ambled out of the darkness, his hair still slick from the shower. “Coffee,” Tonner said. “Alas, there is no coffee.” “Tea.” “Last of the tea was two days ago.” “A stimulant of some kind.” “Do you find oatmeal stimulating?” “Fine.”

But along with it, he felt a rush of amusement and affection. The enemy had come, bent on murder. They’d broken into their home, assaulted them, and the first impulse of the team was to see what they could learn from it.