Dissident

by Lisa Beeson

  “How could you have taken it this far,” Asa’s disgruntled voice asked. “She’s only a child!”

  “She was being…difficult,” she heard Dr. Schweinhardt’s voice answer, and she cringed inwardly. The panicked flutter of her heart, felt like a humming bird trapped in her chest. Go away, go away, go away…

  “How could you have been so negligent? I don’t know if I can heal her in time. Christ, I can’t even believe she’s still alive.”

  In time? Am I really dying…?

  Schweinhardt mumbled something in a language Val couldn’t understand – the consonants were guttural and sharp.

  Asa answered back in the same language. It sounded like a harsh reprimand.

  The warmth wasn’t working fast enough. She could feel herself slipping away into the vortex of death’s voracious maw.

  No! …I don’t want to die! …I’m not ready!

  What was on the other side? Was Hell awaiting her? Was she irrevocably doomed to an eternity of suffering?

  Val had given up on God’s mercy a long time ago, much to the displeasure of one of her more overtly religious foster families. She had never felt worthy of his love or consideration, but there was always a glimmer of hope of His divine mercy. But then God had abandoned her in her greatest time of need, forcing her to break one of his most basic commandments. Thou shalt not kill.

  If God hadn’t listened to her then, why would he listen to her now? But in times of utter despair, a soul will call out to anything familiar – will desperately grasp at anything to save them.

  Nothing is permanent except for death…

  There would be no more chances at redemption.

  No! Haven’t I suffered enough? I’m not evil! It’s not fair!

  Val’s heart fluttered in panic as she tried to remember the words her mother used to make them say when she was scared and desperate.

  Padre nuestro que estás en los cielos… Santificado sea tu Nombre… uh… Venga tu …um… thy kingdom come… uh…

  No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t remember the rest. The words wouldn’t come – in Spanish or in English. So instead, she called out the words in her heart: Please forgive me! …I’ll be better, I promise! Don’t let me die! Please!

  Despite her heartfelt appeal for divine clemency, the dark abyss swallowed her up, sending her to a place where thoughts, emotions, and sensations could not reach her.

  *****

  A sharp discordance pierced through Ari’s sleep, straight to her heart.

  Val!

  Val’s distress was a palpable thing, compelling Ari to fight her way through the murky slog of lethargy. Her tenuous grasp of semi-consciousness was proving impossible to maintain. However, the discordant frequencies were like a searing current travelling through her nerves, forcing her to try. The severe agitation caused her to tap into something clinging to the edge of her soul. It was dark and wrathful, but it was powerful, and it was enough to help her force her heavy eyelids to blink open.

  Mother Am’s anxious face came into Ari’s bleary, tunneled vision. “It’s too early for her wake. She shouldn’t be able to overcome the effects of the dose I gave her.” She seemed to be searching Ari’s eyes, as if she saw something that worried her. Then she quickly moved away out of Ari’s line of sight.

  Don’t you dare leave me…

  The powerful darkness tainted her thoughts with the gravelly edge of impatient aggravation. “I… I hav’a… Is …impornan…,” Ari insisted as clearly as she could through the smothering haze of drowsiness. Her grip on lucidity was faltering. She could feel herself drifting back into sleep. No!

  She tried to blindly reach out her hand for anything to grasp onto to help her up, but she couldn’t move her limbs. A familiar face filled her line of sight.

  Her heart first filled with joy and then wept with a heavy remorse. The last time she had seen that face, it had been beaten so badly that it was almost unrecognizable – all because of her. Now his skin was smooth and perfect, with not even a hint of a scar. But his eyes… his eyes weren’t the deep dark brown they had been. They were silver, reminding her of liquid mercury, just like the new tattoos that started on his bald scalp and traveled down his neck. They contrasted beautifully with his dark skin. Jean-Baptiste…not human anymore… it’s my fault… Dark animosity burned through her like a hot iron. No…it’s the Shades’ fault! Those evil bast-

  “It’s all right, cher. It was my choice,” Jean-Baptist said in his warm sonorous voice, interrupting her rage-fueled thoughts. “And I’d do it again in a heartbeat. It was the path I’ve been preparing for my whole life…whether I knew it or not.”

  Ari started to drift again, but the discordance renewed its sawing against her nerves bringing her back. “I… I hav da…” She tried to lift her head, but it was too heavy.

  “Have to what,” Jean- Baptiste asked.

  “Val… I must… save’er…import-tant…,” she said, focusing on enunciating the hard consonants as best as she could.

  He turned to look at someone else out of her field of vision. After a brief pause, he nodded and turned back to her. “I will do it, cher. I’ll help Val. Don’tcha worry.” He cupped her face in his large hands. “Trust in me to do it, and rest.” He bent over and placed his forehead against hers to seal the promise.

  The discord mercifully stopped, and Ari was able to let go and drift back into the eager embrace of sleep.

  Chapter 10

  Sennah tried to focus on being aware of potential threats as she rode through the sweltering, blood red and dark purple canyons, but her heart and mind would not allow her to concentrate. For three days, they had been traveling, but her emotions were still tangled up in a heavy knot in her chest. She was scared. She was angry. She was sad and lonely. So much was lost in such a short amount of time. Rysura and all the beings from the temple were either dead or wished that they were. Malu and Uncle Ubrim were taken by Karno renegades to be laid at the mercy of the Judicial Synod – a part of the corrupt Anu’Kainat. And now, the Xjaamin held a string to her heart.

  The strange old man had felt like home – a home she could not remember, but felt deeply in her heart. He had given her an island of solace in the sea of strife that had become her life. He had also given her protection in the form of powerful ancient runes that he had marked on her scalp. The knowledge that she would have to return to him so he could correctly deactivate the runes before she reached Maturity, made leaving a bit more bearable. She would see him again.

  Her hiding place on the hover carrier, though uncomfortable, was an ultimately ideal cover. She was so small that no one would suspect her hidden amongst the supplies. Also, the rune that cloaked her inordinately bright xjaasa made her invisible to the Anu’Kainat’s Sentinel Scanners plaguing the canyons, and those with the gift to see xjaasai.

  However, the oppressive desert heat made it feel like an oven. Only the coolant coursing through the thermal regulation rig in her desert gear made it bearable. Vrahnon and Musqar Fenn were much too big to ride the carrier, so they had to navigate around the fire falls, and through the warren of rock arch ravines on foot. Musqar Fenn walked in front to guide them, and Vrahnon guarded them from behind. Leaving Sennah mired in her thoughts, as she sat hovering smoothly over the treacherous path.

  They traveled as far as they could while the sun shone in the sky. As soon as darkness descended, Musqar Fenn would find a sheltered place to camp. Then they would eat a quick, hearty meal, and rest until just before the sun crested the canyon. Little to nothing was said between the men, and nothing but low, curt commands from Vrahnon were said to Sennah, while she said nothing at all. They could not risk the echo of their voices bringing unwanted attention. Musqar Fenn had been successful in steering them away from the many threats of the canyons thus far, but there was no need to tempt their good fortune.

  On the fourth day of travel, Sennah let her mind wander back to when the Xjaamin had been helping her with her desert gear, while Vrahnon
and Musqar Fenn packed the carrier with the supplies and weapons for the journey. The weapons had made Sennah nervous, though she knew they would be necessary to protect them.

  When she saw that they were almost finished packing, Sennah had grabbed the Xjaamin’s hand. “I am frightened of the journey ahead,” she whispered. “What if we are captured?” Between the threats of the Musqar rover gangs, Karno renegades, and the Anasaru soldiers searching for them, their chances of survival and successfully reaching Oan on Esharet were slim at best. Fear and dread threatened to overwhelm her. Rysura had not prepared her enough for the danger and cruelty of the world away from the temple. Sennah yearned for the safety and serenity of the place that was no longer her home.

  She understood now why Vrahnon had seen her as a threat. Her existence was not only illegal, it was a death sentence for herself, her parents, and anyone who helped hide her. Her presence put everyone around her in danger. The weight of the guilt she held in her heart was liable to crush her where she stood.

  The Xjaamin knelt down in front of her, raising her tinted protective goggles to rest on her forehead so she could look him squarely in his silver eyes. They held a multitude of mysteries and the vast knowledge of the ages that, if given the chance, she could see herself getting lost in.

  “Be aware,” he cautioned. “Always think ahead. Learn from your surroundings and adapt to them.” He cupped her face with his hand, letting his fatherly love lessen the weight in her heart. “I wish that I could come with you, Little One, but that is not my path. If you should ever need my guidance, I will know it, and I will visit you in your dreams or in the Inbetween.”

  Sennah was shocked to hear that the Xjaamin was a dream walker and that he knew of the Inbetween. She had thought that the Inbetween was a secret place that only she and her parents shared.

  “Trust in your generous heart to guide you,” he continued. “You are equipped with everything you need to survive.”

  He gently adjusted the head wrap covering her shorn, rune-covered scalp – the same type of covering that the Musqar boys wore to protect their heads from the rays of the desert sun. It also warmed them during the cold nights. “Whatever may befall you, be assured that you are strong enough to endure it.”

  The truth of his words washed over her, renewing her confidence and fortitude, and making it easier for her to breathe.

  “Your uncle is a hard man, but trust that his heart is true and that he wants what is best for you. Trust in his guidance, but don’t be afraid to follow your own instincts as well.”

  Sennah was unsure how she was supposed to do both of those things successfully, but she tilted her head in assent to show that she would try.

  “Do you remember the planet that I showed you on the astrocularus?”

  Of course, she remembered. “Gaia,” she said to confirm it. The old abandoned outpost where she was supposed to pretend she was from now. It was where her grandfather, or “olen” in her Oan’s dialect, was unjustly banished.

  “Can you recall it clearly in your mind?”

  Sennah pictured the green, white, and blue orb, remembering the different landmasses and icy polar caps. “Yes, I can recall it.”

  “When the time comes, your grandfather will need your help to guide him home.”

  “He will?” Gaia was so far away. How would she ever be able to do this? Wouldn’t she put him in danger as well?

  “He does not know it, but he has been waiting for you for a long time.” The Xjaamin’s eyes twinkled with hidden knowledge that made her want to know what he knew. “Always remember that Gaia can be a place of refuge for you. A bastion against those in Anu who would do you harm.”

  Sennah was confused, but let him know that she would try to help her lost olen if she could.

  A low whistle from Musqar Fenn snapped Sennah out of her musing. Remaining perfectly still, she extended her field of awareness and picked up a small troop of beings coming their way. She assumed that they must be another rover gang; they had been dodging various pockets of them all day. Then she heard the high-pitched whines of multiple Sentinel Scanners zooming through the ravines. The small tech orbs moved fast, taking in all the information around them and instantly sending it out to the Anasaru. They only had a moment to hide before the orbs bore down on them.

  They moved swiftly forward as Musqar Fenn and Vrahnon guided the carrier, but then she felt it abruptly turn.

  She wished that she could see where they were going. All she knew was that the spears of afternoon light leaking in through the cracks in the supplies disappeared as they descended into a resonant darkness. Musqar Fenn must have found a fissure large enough for the carrier in one of the canyon walls.

  When they were far enough from the opening of the fissure, Sennah noticed the faint ambient glow from Musqar Fenn’s guiders that were floating ahead and leading them down their path. The tech was a rare commodity in the wastelands, so he only used them when it was absolutely necessary. The rover gangs would kill for them without hesitation.

  Sennah tried to master her fear as she listened to the echo of the men’s footsteps and felt the carrier wind through turns and switchbacks, going deeper and deeper into the darkness. The farther they went into the rock the more temperate it became – causing her thermal regulation rig to shut off entirely and not switch over to the heating system meant for the frigid desert nights.

  After a particularly steep downslope, the carrier came to a stop in what sounded like a cavernous space. There was a tense, whispered exchange between the two men before the supplies began lifting from the carrier. The sharp planes of Vrahnon’s face appeared above her. She raised her tinted goggles so she could see better in the deep darkness.

  “We will camp in here and rest for now,” he said before lifting her out of the carrier and placing her on the ground. He gave her a hydration pouch and she sipped it eagerly, trying not to down it all in a few hasty gulps.

  As she paced her sips, Sennah took in the cavernous space, which was at the junction of three pathways. The marbled swirls in the rock reminded her of rippling water. Vrahnon went over to guard the way they had just come, while Musqar Fenn sent a couple of his guiders to scan the pathways to check for threats. While the guiders collected information, Musqar Fenn placed nodes around the perimeter of the cavern to generate the security field. Once the guiders came back to relay the info they gathered, he reviewed it on the corresponding tech built into his arm guard. He turned to Vrahnon. “A couple ancient Xanarhii traps, but all is clear for now,” he said in Common speech, before he activated the security field.

  Sennah immediately thought of the Xanarhii that Rysura said had stayed behind, but Vrahnon seemed unconcerned.

  With the field up, the two men felt the cavern safe enough to shed their desert gear for the first time since they began their journey. Once free of the bulky gear they began to unload the carrier and set up camp.

  After Sennah took off her own desert gear, she quietly asked Vrahnon, if there was anything she could do to help them.

  “You can help by staying out of the way,” he replied.

  Sulking, Sennah climbed onto a large flat-topped boulder to finish the hydration pouch and stay out of the way. Standing high above them, she swayed and moved her weight from one foot to the other, then lifted her knees in a silent, stationary march as she drank. She had barely moved the entire trip and her muscles were cramped and antsy with pent up energy after so much inactivity.

  As she did her peculiar little dance, she watched the two men work in quiet cooperation. A grunt or quiet word the only noises they made, their prolonged silence had become a habit.

  Only the day before, had they finished the fresh provisions the Xjaamin had given them. So when the camp was set, Musqar Fenn began cooking the creature he had killed during their days’ trek. The plasma bolt from his high-powered weapon had blown the creature’s head clean off, so it was hard to identify what it was. It had a long thick tail that seemed to be the main source o
f meat, though.

  When the meal was finished cooking Vrahnon signaled for her to come down from the boulder to eat. The meat was dense and gamey, and the content of the nutrition pouch was bland with an unpleasant grainy texture. Sennah ate the meal eagerly, though, not only to fill her empty belly, but also to save herself from one of Vrahnon’s scowls. He was already in a sour mood from the arduous trek; she did not wish to antagonize him or offend Musqar Fenn by being ungrateful.

  As Sennah finished her food, she could not help studying their guide. She had never seen a Musqar without their desert gear, which made them resemble canvas-wrapped hunchbacks. His features looked similar to the other four Daizan tribal sects. The only differences were the raised ritual scarification on his cheeks and forehead, and the color of his eyes was a darker shade of crystalline amber.

  He must have sensed her stare, for he looked up from his food to stare right back at her. Musqar Fenn had never entered the Xjaamin’s hidden residence, so he had not seen her without desert gear on either.

  Not wanting to offend, Sennah let her gaze fall to the ground as she lowered her tinted goggles to hide her Ayan eyes from his scrutiny. They had not put in the tech-drops the Xjaamin had given them to dull their colors yet. They only had a small amount and were told to use it sparingly. It was dark in the cavern, but she needed to be cautious. She did not know what the Xjaamin had told him of her and Vrahnon.

  “What do you see when you look at me, boy,” she heard him ask. He must have felt secure enough that they would not be heard deep in the caverns to actually converse.

  “There is no need for you to speak to the child,” Vrahnon said between bites.

  Musqar Fenn paid him no mind and continued to stare at her in expectant silence. Sennah looked into his eyes and saw that he truly wanted to know what she saw in him.

  The other Daizan sects looked down on the Musqars as their inferiors. They had sided with the Ayan invaders during the Galactic War, betraying their race for their own gain, and the other sects refused to let them forget it. After sending the Xanarhii to Naan, the Magirians designated the barren lands of the desert belt as a penal colony. They called it the Musqar territories, and forced the sect to preface their surname with Musqar to forever mark their shame. Leaderless and disenfranchised, the Musqars broke into savage bands of warlord tribes, carving out strongholds amidst the canyons, taking over abandoned Xanarhii villages and using the remnants of whatever they had left behind. Not much has changed since then, except that the Musqars now bare their moniker as a source of pride instead of shame. Claiming it set them apart as free men, liberated from the tyranny of the Magirial Matriarchy.