Hevun's Rebel

by C M Weller

  Stupid humans.

  They couldn't even rig a chain of explosives correctly.

  The bombs were meant to destroy the entire air recirculation system, but only one of the key power feeds had been destroyed. The remaining attempts at explosives were so primitive that a first-year Taan could defuse it with their eyes closed.

  Many Taans were busy at just that task but, thanks to the watchful eye of Om'r Graak Jeshi'ig, they were not doing so with any eye shut. Some, he was pleased to note, barely dared to blink.

  Now all he needed to do was catch whichever vermin tried to do this.

  *

  Eon had thought nothing could scare him more than all his plans threatening to turn into plasma, care of a Tu'atta battleship obliterating a problem. And then Sahra found something she could use as a prybar.

  So far, she had taken off every access panel in the room. Now she had wedged it into the grating where the dropped tools still rested, and had clambered up to the high end. And she was swinging and bouncing on it like a demented kivit. Shrieking in joy when it gave.

  He watched in helpless horror as the grating whined loose of its moorings and bent, ever so slightly, out of its place.

  It was too late, now, to make his painful way to the grating an slide through it. Far too late to eat the tools he thought she would never reach.

  A slave with tools, no matter how simple, was a dangerous slave.

  He couldn't scream, but the metal grating screamed for him as Sahra bounced and jiggled on her springy lever.

  One, final groan and an edge of the grating rose up enough to leave a gap underneath.

  Sahra let herself down and stretched for the tools.

  One small plasma cutter. One adhesion matrix emanator. Simple tools, but incredibly useful. She could take the whole station apart if she wanted to. Re-rig it to her desires if she wanted to.

  Or set herself on fire if she didn't know what she was doing with the blasted things.

  Eon considered which was more likely and did his best to take the things off of her.

  Mute gods, she was pressing buttons!

  Pointing them away from her head, thank any luck available, but she was still pressing buttons.

  He latched onto her leg just in time. She stood and ran for the light so she could see better. One second the wrong way and he would have been stranded meters away. When he was healthier, such a distance would be nothing. Less than nothing.

  Now, it was an infinite gap.

  Sahra squinted at the buttons. Tiny things meant for the tip of a Tu'atta claw. Covered in symbols easily read by Tu'atta.

  And she still found the on/off switch and tested it with a bit of wire.

  No reaction.

  Next, she checked the power cells. Held them up to the light. Sniffed them and, in a suicidal move that made Eon cringe, licked the contact points.

  "Nuth'n," she pouted. "Not a zap o' pow'r in 'em."

  Eon almost collapsed out of pure relief.

  *

  Sahra put the tools up high and the power cells next to them. Simy didn't climb that far, yet.

  If she cashed them in, the masters would kill her and most of her family.

  If she let someone else steal them, then it'd be her fault they and their family died. Sahra couldn't face up to any angels with that on her tally.

  If she let Simy eat them, she'd kick herself if she found a way to charge the cells later on.

  So her only real option was keep them in here where nobody would dare to go and hope for good fortune at a later date.

  Not that she counted on good fortune. Maybe she could figure something out with the circuits that were still going.

  Sahra loaded her cart, mostly with ore scrapings from the pointy tunnel, and made her slow way back to the check-in point. She needed to range out. Get more stuff from somewhere else. So her finds didn't point anyone else to her secret place.

  And Simy.

  And the very dangerous tools.

  And the piles of pickings.

  And some of the other rats would wonder if they didn't cross paths with her. And ask the wrong kinds of questions.

  But she couldn't leave Simy all alone. Maybe she could sneak him along. Riding on her back or something.

  And he could eat all the really yucky stuff that no-one wanted to shift. Or the yucky stuff that no-one wanted to touch.

  The masters made no comment on her haul, only sending her back for something 'more interesting'.

  Sahra only stopped on her way to a different place so she could get Simy. It took her two tries to get him to 'stick put' on her back, and then she was off, climbing up to the higher levels where less rats wanted to go.

  The masters lived up there, but they treated the tunnels like a big disposal bin. And it was easy to get turned around if you didn't know your way.

  But Sahra liked roaming through the upper levels. She heard all sorts of things. And found some interesting things, too.

  This time was very different. Simy made it more fun by getting rid of the really yucky stuff between her and the good stuff. He was a very clever pup.

  *

  This was part of the plan. Eon was elated, and grateful that this animal seemed to know the things he needed most without any attempts to communicate.

  Some things were not part of the plan. Like hearing what his contemporaries thought of him. Either human slaves talking amongst themselves or the Tu'atta swapping stories, the results were not good.

  Nobody seemed to be missing him.

  "I heard some slave stole his own plasma gun and shot him with it," said a young female, talking over a vidlink. "What was the Majestrix thinking? You don't let pets run anything. And you never get so very publicly upset when they die. Duh."

  "Iistraaah... you can't crit the Majestrix..." said the female on the other end.

  "So what? She can't monitor every call."

  He could have, in his days as a security assistant. He'd have flagged that female, her family, and all of her friends for interrogation for insubordinate behaviour.

  Sahra moved on, picking up things of interest and passing him the rest. She didn't care about Tu'atta society showing thin cracks in its superstructure. She only cared about her immediate goals. Capital gain for self-benefit.

  Sahra stopped at another vent. There were no pickings in this junction, nor anything interesting on the other side. Just a small group of decor-slaves listening to an info-station.

  Someone was talking in the human tongue.

  "...botage mission (whreeeee)sful. Unfortunately, work crews were able (ssszzzaaazz)blish power before the wretched queen of corruption succumbed. Take(fzzzzzz) my comrades. The rebellion will free us all (fweeeee)ical claw of the hateful Tu'atta. We will elim--"

  Movement outside their room made the slaves shut it off and the group spring apart into casual poses.

  "...r'belyun," Sahra mumbled. She didn't sound happy. "They th' ones tried t' kill us all. F'r some queen?" She shook her head and crawled onwards. "They's crosswired."

  In that judgement, Eon and she agreed one hundred percent.

  *

  After lunch, (Sahra had put Simy back in their secret room before she even hopped out of a tunnel) one of the masters pulled her aside for cable-running duty.

  Sahra hated it. The places where cables went never had any good pickings and they were always full of sharp bits and none of the masters were all that ready for her to pick her way through them. And the weight she pulled got heavier and heavier and heavier as she went on. And pretty much every last master had got onto the idea that tugging on the cable made rats like her go faster.

  But Sahra had thought up a trick to try.

  The masters showed her a map - a better one than they had for running her through ore processing - and clipped a cable-holding thing into her harness. Sahra almost jumped into the tunnels, going as fast as she could until she got to a crossway and then, very quickly, bundling up some loops to hold in her less-useful hand.
They wouldn't yank her backwards so easy, this way.

  She held tight with her less-able hand and leaned on everything with her knuckles, there. It didn't slow her down one bit. The bit that did slow her down was the straight-up climb that looked like three, maybe as many as five whole levels.

  There was no way she could do that quick. Down was easier than up, but the masters wanted her to go up, so up she would have to go.

  Sahra used her elbows, back and feet to make it up. Sometimes, there were cubby-holes. Sometimes, there were vents. Most of the times, there were other branches.

  And no matter how tight she held her loops, they fell away to nothing before she was halfway there. Now she had to stop and pull for enough slack to get another wriggle up-ways. The Vasht on the other end of Sahra's cable did not like that, if the strength of her return tugs was any kind of sign.

  Sahra just made it to the top, both arms stretched out into the tunnel she was supposed to take, when a very strong tug pulled her right off her perch and made her fall down.

  Instinct made her stretch out for any hold she could grab. It also made her scream. It was a short fall in terms of time. Not even a lungful of scream in it, but it felt like almost a short, painful trip to heaven. Sahra got her breath back and swallowed her heart down. And blinked thirty times in the dim light because right there in front of her nose was a whole cell recharger.

  Right there in a cubby hole she hadn't even looked at before, held it neat and pretty like it belonged there.

  Sahra could tell it was meant for humans, because someone had stuck button panel over the one made for masters. One with bigger buttons meant for thick, human fingers.

  She couldn't grab it right now. Someone would take it off her.

  The cable twitched. Sahra did her best to race back up to the top and didn't tug back until she was safe and braced at the top.

  The cable was a lot less heavy on the last crawl to the end.

  Maybe other rats had thought of her tricks, too. And maybe the masters had learned them.

  ...and maybe Sahra had to keep her face in check or someone would read it and know she found something special. She thought about the fall, but not what she found because of it. Let her heart fight to get out again. Crawled as fast as she could for the end and a bit beyond.

  And did everything in her power to not look back and remember her top find.

  The masters didn't even notice, all busy with the cable and fixing things.

  Sahra ducked out of their way and back into the tunnel. She didn't use the cable to climb down, not with the masters' claws on it. She used the walls and the cubbies and the cross-paths and the vent edges to get back down.

  It was a hard haul to get the big machine all the way to the secret, wrecked room. She couldn't even do anything with it because she owed some keep for second shift. Sahra raced for the check-in point and got a cart, rushing through every place where stuff piled up and hoping it was enough.

  She couldn't risk anyone following her. Every rat knew that rats in a hurry went to the best finds they knew. Sure enough, she could hear others tailing her.

  They wouldn't find Simy or her stash. Not yet.

  Too soon, the end of the shift sounded and all the rats went as fast as they could for the check-in.

  Sahra lagged behind, picking up their spills.

  She got a demerit for showing up late, something that made her face burn at the thought of it. And she'd catch Duvi's gloating for sure. And Mama's sad eyes, which would be the worst.

  Her heavy feet dragged on the floor all the way home. Her hot face gave her hot eyes that leaked in sticky hot wet drops that didn't want to let go of her no matter what.

  "Sahra Johnston!"

  Sahra couldn't even look at Mama as she ran up to her. She tried to make her voice work, but instead of an, "I'm sorry Mama," all that came out was a rough croak.

  And then, miracle! Mama scooped her up in a hug that knocked half her breath out.

  "You scared three colours of beans outta me, all I heard was about the fall! Nobody said if you was alive or dead."

  "...but I gotta bad haul..."

  "You're alive, you're alive, you're alive..." Mama held her tight all the way into their home. Kissed her and sat her on her cushion.

  Sahra leaned towards Netta. "Whut jus' happen?" she whispered.

  "You got out of a talkin' by th' skin o' y'r nails," whispered Netta. "Don't do nuthin' to make 'em remember."

  Sahra nodded and kept her head down for the rest of the night. She didn't get more. She didn't get less. She didn't make any fuss or look at any one or play the game where she tried to guess who had done better or worse than anyone else.

  That was the first night she snuck away to visit Simy. She spent an hour talking out her worries to him and doing what she could for her new recharger before kissing him goodnight and heading back to her home.

  *

  Eon did his exercises when she was not around. Physiotherapy for a shapeshifter was a little more complicated than lifting weights with a weakened limb. In his case, his weakened limb was his entire body.

  He could metabolize anything to his net benefit, but that won him nothing if he didn't use it. He stretched, measuring himself against the ruined cart rails, or the wall struts, or by the missing access panels. He timed how fast he could move from one place to another.

  He tried to climb.

  Specifically, he tried to climb up to the high shelf where Sahra placed the objects she intended to keep. Two power tools with matching energy cells, and now a cell recharger. Dangerous things. Harmful things.

  One slave with the means to take the entire station apart... probably would.

  He was almost there. Not even a talon away from reaching just one...

  Eon had to have a goal to stop himself from succumbing to insanity. This goal was simple. Keep the station safe by removing hazardous objects from a human juvenile.

  He feared he was already too late. That last talon's gap was more than physical. He was beginning to... not want to get them.

  The instant he could decipher her half-articulate babblings, he gained a perspective on the life of a slave. Despite the Tu'atta's insistence that the humans were incapable of proper, full-shaded communication, they did very well. Even with simple words.

  Sahra's want of the tools was for a better income. Not just for herself, but her entire family. All eighteen of them. Nineteen if one counted the transient male.

  And a twentieth on the way.

  He learned of strange things, like the human pecking order. Sahra's surprise at finding a friend in a woman who had only recently been a pet - the highest rank next to freedom that a slave could aspire towards. Of the six siblings who had died at or near their birth. Of the hidden wall of beauty in her mother's sleeping chamber. Of her brother's unreasoning hatred.

  Of her one dream to make her family happy.

  One last pulse of pain. One magnificent struggle up to the human's high place. He could reach it all. He could do anything he wanted with it.

  He could eat her very dreams.

  Devour her hopes.

  Metabolize her wishes.

  And break her heart. Possibly ruin her trust, and trust was essential in a worthy slave. Doing this, carrying out his plan to remove the tools and their means of maintenance, may well literally kill her.

  Why did he care?

  This little human, barely useful at all, wasn't worth anything. Easily replaceable. Expendable.

  By being expendable, she had found him. She was the only being who had come near. The only one who helped him, even though she didn't know who he was.

  The first being who was genuinely glad to see him.

  Eon climbed back down. He couldn't bring himself to betray the little human. Let her have this dream, however far it took her. She was smart enough to keep secrets so far. Why should he doubt her ability to keep more of them?

  One way or another, I think I'm going to regret this...


  *

  Sahra stopped in to collect Simy only when she was scrounging. Made sure nobody saw him. Made sure nobody saw her go get him. Made sure without doubt that she went all over the tunnels everywhere when she was out scrounging.

  That was how she met the rebels.

  And that was the day her life changed.

  Sahra knew she was a few master-paths away from where she'd found the recharger. What she never expected was to hear people talking. Humans talking. They couldn't be masters. Masters had a way of saying things that humans just... didn't do.

  A man's voice. He sounded new to being a grownup. "I told you he was unreliable."

  "Or she," said a woman's voice. She sounded too calm to be real. "The whole point of anonymous contacts is that we don't know who they are. And vice-versa."

  Those were some complicated words. Sahra wished she knew what even half of them meant. "Hide, Simy," she whispered. Simy slipped from off her back and into the trash in her cart.

  "And what about the bloody equipment that was supposed to be there?" A thump on the wall with something metal. It made the whole tunnel ring like a bell. "The note said it was in there. Where is it?"

  Equipment? They couldn't be looking for her recharger. It was hers! She found it fair and square. And she nearly almost had it working, too.

  The woman sighed. "I told you already, they have children doing most of the work around here, including salvage of any damage. An entire recharger's worth a lot in those instances."

  Sahra nearly banged her head on the roof of her tunnel. They were after her recharger! Well they could just dance for it as far as she had any say in it.

  "I'm going to murder whichever little bastard took it," growled the man.

  "Julian," the woman sighed, "Put that knife away before someone gets hurt. We need to remain calm."

  Sahra had to hold the laugh in with both hands. This tough-guy had the funniest name she had ever heard! She fought to get it held all the way in and crawled closer to where their argument kept on happening.

  If they got any louder, the masters might just shoot up the whole sector. They needed getting rid of, and Sahra was the only somebody to do it. She found them underneath her tunnel, and made up her mind to play innocent. "What'cha doin'?"

  The man glared hot hurt up at her. "Looking for someone to skin over an open fire..."

  "Let me handle this," said the woman. She had an old pattern of spots on her cheeks. Tattoos, they had to be. They were turning blue with time. She put on a warm smile like Sahra would put on a shift. "Hello, little one. We're - just lost. Do you know your way around here?"