She watched as Branwen stepped around a set of bodies, mangled and deformed, and her stomach twisted, just a little. The Captain seemed to pay them no heed, giving them little more attention than any of the other debris. “I have seen similar feats before. But yes, it is still impressive.”
“Where have you—”
Branwen’s raised hand and sudden halt cut her off. Ahead, her gestures indicated, and Merlo nodded, readying herself for trouble as Branwen eased forward. She was glad the Captain was here. 286, Stone, slavery and the Kalaset… It was all almost too much, but her Captain would know what to do.
17.9 - Branwen
The only trouble left to them in the tunnels below Stone’s estate were the tricky locks and iron bars of spartan underground rooms built for holding slaves.
They found Tiala in a cell at the very back of the underground complex, in a prison that, especially compared to those surrounding it, was far too lavish of a cage to deserve the word. She had looked up at them from where she lay, a crumpled form in rough, once-rich Kala’s robes, her appearance damaged by bruises and torn clothing, but her dignity and demeanor still powerfully intact. With little left standing in the way, it was a simple matter for Branwen to stab her Skyblade through the thick metal and sever the bolts of Kala Tiala’s cage, the heavy metal failing to stop her, just as armor, flesh, and Urzran resolve had before.
“Help the others. Please,” were the first words from Tiala’s lips, pleading, but still cloaked in her Kala’s air of cool control despite whatever circumstances she might have endured. Branwen needed little prompting. The Captain freed many others, mostly girls, wielding long years of discipline to hammer down the anger that tried to unfurl each time she revealed a new, frightened face. Merlo followed along behind, helping as she could while Zimi went from person to person, checking them for injuries and offering reassurance and comfort.
Branwen was determined not to leave without having freed them all, but there were many more languishing there than she’d expected. It would have taken too long to do so with only brute force, but Mr. Leonard finally gained access to the entirety of the system’s security, noting that, “Whoever was contesting my control with local overrides seems to have… ceased doing so.” Branwen could only assume whoever it was lay among the fallen, one more of the many to be ended by Prisoner 286’s rampage. In fact, save for the captives, they encountered not another soul still living in the complex.
She couldn’t bring herself to care.
They’d even found Don Mateo in another isolated, lonely cell, though the distinguished gentleman that had appeared on the earlier holos was hard to recognize; Jori Stone had obviously not been nearly as kind to him as he had been to Kala Tiala. Branwen lent the older man a shoulder at first, then finally carried him part of the way, despite his insistence that he be left behind in favor of speeding the others to safety. Not that the Kala would have heard anything of it.
Escorting two dozen frightened young men and women, many mistreated, out of the compound and to the Destiny wasn’t easy, but no one else arrived to stop them, so they managed. They were lucky that no one did, really; it was clear the whole time that 286 was still eager for a fight, and could barely be persuaded to refrain from detonating the generous amount of explosives she’d strewn about the tunnels and home of Jori Stone until they were safely back on the ship, a fireworks display that would no doubt serve to distract from their hasty escape from the planet. Branwen imagined that if anyone had tried to stop them, they would have quickly regretted it, before subsequently ceasing to regret anything.
Try as she might, Branwen didn’t manage to get all of the prospective slaves back to the Destiny, and to safety. As soon as they were into the edges of the city, a boy and girl took off into the alleys together, heedless to Branwen’s calls for them to stop, that she was trying to get them to freedom. Tiala’s soothing presence, however, prevented such a notion from spreading to the others, and they managed to get the rest of them safely on board, though not without a large number of curious or outright suspicious reactions from Urzran citizens on the way.
Once everyone was on board, Branwen had Merlo hasten them from Kharvid, then from Urzran space. She knew that once they were underway, it was incredibly unlikely that an Urzran ship would be able to catch them; indeed, perhaps no ship could. As much as she would have loved to wait around Kharvid for Stone to cross her path, it was more important by far that she get her crew and new charges out of range of any reprisal. And if he was clever enough to have kept this whole operation secret for this long, Branwen didn’t expect that he would return to his manor anytime soon.
“Captain?” Branwen glanced up, startled from her thoughts by the beautiful young Kala sent to fetch her. “The ceremony is about to start, Miss Hawke. If you’re ready, would you please follow me? The Luminas are waiting for you.”
Branwen rose, taking her feet and steadily treading across the expanses of plush, tasteful rugs and past rich, magnificent decor making up the stunning, lavish Altairan Atelier, home of the Kalaset. She’d had plenty of time to take in the sights while waiting, and the decor was truly impressive, even for someone who had many times visited some of the grandest palaces of Fade.
It was a rare honor, as she understood it. Branwen might not have the seemingly innate awe of the Kalaset that most natives of the cluster had, but she supposed it could be likened to an audience with nobility or perhaps even the Queens on her homeworld. Three Luminas would be in attendance; High Lumina Elune from Altair, whose Atelier this was, Lumina Kienna from Kepa’ohalei, the Atelier Kala Tiala called home, and Lumina Arista, who had been visiting on Altair Prime and had made an effort to attend once informed of the events that had transpired.
A smile quirked her face as she considered that, despite the grand honor of it all, she was the only one of her crew to attend. Merlo had little desire to attend, despite everyone’s efforts to explain what an honor it was, and had even pretended to still be recovering in order to dodge the ceremony, leaving attendance on Branwen’s shoulders with a grin. On the other hand, Zimi had felt it was far too great of a honor for her, and expressed while trying not to hyperventilate that she’d be too afraid that she’d say the wrong thing or not know what to do with her hands, and generally “make a darn fool of herself.”
Mr. Leonard had similarly seemed petrified by the very thought of attending, and 286… 286 obviously didn’t give the smallest portion of an Alherst’s backside about the Kalaset or their honors, preferring to stick around the Destiny a while longer and keep Merlo company. Only Kala Sirrah, out of all of her space-bound friends, would be present. If anything, Branwen felt it was unfair; she hardly could have won this victory on her own.
The exquisitely paneled wood doors ahead of her, each easily twice her height, parted in front of her, pushed by the delicate arms and energetic smiles of two more young Kalaset members. The ceremony room ahead of her revealed itself, twin lines of Kalas in lavish, unique gowns, dresses, and robes creating a fantastic corridor leading up to where Sirrah, Tiala, and the three Luminas awaited. Despite everything, she couldn’t help but smile.
It really was a rare honor. Those not of the Kalaset were rarely ever allowed to even set foot into one of the Guildhalls, much less do so with such an overt gesture of respect. And it truly was a beautiful spectacle; each and every Kala was no less than a living work of art. It was fantastic to see, the very kind of adventure she’d sought when she’d decided to come to space.
Music started up as she stepped forward, her old war boots crunching the soft rug at every step, in a barbaric lack of grace compared to what it must be accustomed to. Her freshly-cleaned coat flapped dully behind her as if it too felt out of place; she found herself wishing she’d put on some of her old heraldry or at least some of her nicer armor. She’d have felt less half-dressed that way.
The music was beautiful, and as far as she could tell, didn’t seem to be recorded; likely, there were actual Kalas out there in the crowd
, playing the instruments themselves. Sirrah had said that most of them knew at least one such art, and it seemed a Kala did nothing without doing it excellently.
Branwen shrugged out of her discomfort. If she could be seen before the Queens of her Realm spattered in mud, blood, and two weeks unwashed, she could walk down a damn carpet with a flock of Kalas watching. She grinned at the humor of the thought.
“Honored and proven are all who grace these halls. May peace abide with you.” With those words, High Lumina Elune, the refined mistress in charge of the entirety of the Kalaset, calmly strode into the room, stopping at the very base of the set of tiered steps the other Luminas gracefully inhabited.
She was a beautiful, powerful woman, elegant with her golden robes of flowing silk so fine that only those of the Kalaset would wear them. Her hair was bountiful and black as the space between the stars, bound in an elaborate fashion, curling into spirals around the back of her head, held by shimmering pins bejeweled and gilded. Only the creases at the corners of her eyes revealed any hint of her age; her posture was perfect, and her pace was smooth and even. Every detail of her appearance was perfection incarnate, and every ounce of her demeanor bespoke the mastery of emotion she, on behalf of the Kalaset itself, represented. She was the picture of feminine grace, the epitome of personal control, and resplendent in every way. “We of the Kalaset have invited you here, into the sanctity of our home, so that we might show our gratitude for the salvation of one of our sisters.” Her voice was sheer, silky gold, calm and undeniably pleasant, though her smile seemed friendly and genuine. Not that Branwen figured she’d know if it wasn’t.
“One of the Daughters of my House, you have returned to us safe, delivered from an ignominious fate.” Lumina Kienna was a shorter woman with softly rounded hips, sun-kissed skin, and ample curly hair of the same color as Branwen's favorite honey-liquor from Fade. She wore a brilliant orange robe cut to reveal her shoulders, with sleeves that draped from her elbows, leaving her forearms bare. “Thank you so much, Captain.”
“You have done the Kalaset a great service, Captain Hawke. You have not only our gratitude and appreciation, but the friendship of the Kalaset for your honor and endeavors. We are in your debt, a debt we will see repaid to you.” Lumina Arista smiled down at Branwen with cool green eyes. Her silver robes cascaded along a slender figure, revealing a rich crimson layer beneath where the silver split at her hip. Her long, wavy auburn hair was streaked with crimson to match her skirts. “But for now, it would please us if you would accept this symbol of our appreciation.”
She proffered a hand-painted box made of some exotic, aromatic wood, and opened it to reveal a tiny golden pin on a velvet lining. It was expertly engraved with the blossom of a rose shielded by a maiden's fan, the symbol of the Kalaset. Branwen bowed her head over the box respectfully as she accepted it. “I am proud to receive this on behalf of myself and my crew.” Branwen smiled. “Without them, I would not have been able to succeed. Thank you.”
Lumina Kienna smiled at her again, seeming to know her thoughts. “Do not fear, Captain. Though your crew are not present, they are not absent from our thoughts, and deserve our thanks as well.”
Lumina Elune nodded. “But for now, Kala Tiala would like to give you something as well.”
The Luminas parted, revealing Kala Tiala who glided gracefully down the steps, coming to rest on a level with Branwen and saying simply, “Thank you.” As if in emphasis, she took Branwen’s hands in hers, smiling serenely up at her.
Tiala remained a lovely, mature woman with dark hair and eyes, and a dusky, olive complexion. Now dressed in a loose, flowing white dress with her hair neatly braided around her crown and the rest falling free behind her, she looked far healthier and happier than she had appeared in Stone's captivity. She didn’t quite seem as radiant as many of her fellows again, not yet; but neither did many of the signs of her extended captivity seem to linger. Kala Tiala lifted Branwen’s hands, soft, silken fingers delicately pressing against rough, callused palms, and bowed her head over them, lingering for a moment before straightening again with an even more brilliant smile.
A hand on the back of Branwen’s shoulder caused her to turn to see Kala Sirrah’s smiling face. “They wanted me to ask you if you would be willing to take on further jobs for the Kalaset, Captain Hawke.” Sirrah stepped around her to stand next to, and comfortably close to, Kala Tiala. “Though, if you like, we can discuss it at length later on the Destiny Abounds.”
Branwen nodded thoughtfully. It was exactly what she’d hoped to secure for her crew; a promise of safety, of security, of fortune. She wanted that for them. “I would be honored and pleased to do so.” She paused a moment, considering, then nodded again.
“Though first, I have an oath to keep.”
So we got the slaves out. In the end, they were all taken into the care of the Kalaset; a couple of the youngest ones were even offered training, as I understand it. Good for them. Out of disaster should always come such opportunity. Others were returned to their families, if such could be found; otherwise, the Kalaset and Altair are still working to find them homes or otherwise stable lives. I wish them much good fortune, and I am happy to have been able to help them.
Sirrah informs me that the Kalaset and the Altairan government have already condemned Jori Stone’s actions, and, in a surprising turn, so has the Urzran government. The Urzrans have not actually taken action, however, so I personally believe this to be for appearances’ sake alone. I feel that most everyone involved is more forgiving than myself; had I met Mr. Stone during our foray into his complex, I would have ensured he did not survive the encounter.
Merlo has completely recovered from her injuries; they did not, in fact, last the day. Her suit’s abilities still amaze me, as does her appetite. It took much longer for Zimi to dig all of the pellets out of my shoulder than it did for my pilot to recover from the beating she endured; I would lie if I said I was not jealous. 286 has likewise easily recovered. All of her wounds, for the most part, were superficial, and never seemed to register much to her anyway. Though she did eventually submit to Zimi’s ministrations, at Kala Sirrah’s insistence. Zimi is the only one of my crew to still suffer from her wounds at Stone’s compound. Witnessing the slaughter done by myself and the Prisoner unsettled her, and whatever memories it stirred up… Well, suffice to say that physical wounds are often the easiest to heal. I do what I can to help, however.
In another interesting turn of events, Kala Sirrah has requested to join my crew, at least in a manner. I had expected that the Kalaset would indeed honor their offer of further gainful employ, but did not anticipate this being one such way that they would do so. It has me thoughtful; though one thing alone causes me to hesitate:
Prisoner 286. I do not doubt that she is dangerous. No one who saw what we saw in that compound on Kharvid could deny it. So why do I consider allowing her to remain on my ship? Truth be told, she is not the only, or in some senses, even the worst individual I have ever worked with. Similar things have even been said of myself, years ago.
Mostly, however, I wish her to stay because of how she affects Merlo. I worry about my pilot, my friend; before 286, she often sat alone in her barren room, doing nothing. The more signs I see, the more animosity I hold towards those that raised her, no matter what their intentions truly were. But at least now she has more of a purpose, more to fill her days. I find I would have trouble denying her 286’s company because of this. Besides, if Kala Sirrah is correct, we can manage this situation, and Prisoner 286 may even end up the better for it.
Really, I need only avoid challenging or threatening her, or attempting to directly give her orders. Instead, nudge her in the direction I wish her to go by using her interests, or Sirrah’s influence. Not simple by any means, nor enjoyable, but doable.
Kala Sirah herself, I feel, is an excellent addition to my crew. A member of the Kalaset opens many doors previously barred to us, and along with the appreciation of the Kalaset, diminishes
the likelihood that we will ever again have to take the dull blade in place of an empty hand and run poor cargo to make ends meet. It is the safety and security I would like for the Destiny and my crew. And on a personal note, the experiences and perspective she has of the world outside my home are, frankly, intriguing; I look forward to speaking with her more at length.
It is fast coming up on the anniversary of the end of the war, and I promised, swore even, to return…
Branwen’s door chimed, and she looked up, taking the opportunity to shake the cramps from her left hand. Even switching back and forth between her hands, they were getting tired. She hadn’t written like this in so long, the attempt almost made her feel old again, as if she were once again suffering from arthritis and aching at the whims of the weather and seasons. “Enter,” she called.
The door chimed again and shifted smoothly out of the way to admit the petite torso of her pilot, who was grinning and obviously in high spirits. “Hey, Captain. Not bothering you, am I?” The girl gave the feather in her hand, still poised to strike above folded parchment, a briefly puzzled expression that quirked up the corners of Branwen’s mouth in amusement. “We’re about to make planetfall on Kepa’ohalei. Thought you might want to see it.”
Branwen had left Fade because her life was in ruins, and it felt like there was nothing left for her there. Thanks to her crew, especially the girl leaning through the door in front of her, she felt that not only could she rebuild her life, but that perhaps she’d never been completely correct in the first place. Branwen nodded to Merlo with a smile. “I would not miss it for the world.”
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Destiny Abounds (Starlight Saga Book 1) Page 39