by Gun Brooke
As she sat down on one of the lower bunk beds, Owena remained standing, scanning the room with her cool glance. “I assume these bunks will soon be occupied. We better make sure we get this one, closest to the door.”
“Good thinking.” They would need to be able to vacate quickly, in order to set their plan in motion.
More people stumbled inside, some shoved by impatient guards. Unlike Kovos, this prison had guards on the inside patrolling each corridor constantly, and it would be impossible to overpower them. I’ll have to keep up the faith that the Protector’s plan will work. That, or Onotharat’s only popular person on Gantharat will turn out to be missing, imprisoned by mysterious circumstances.
A man passed, half carrying another man with a bandaged head. Owena stepped up to them and helped to lay the almost unconscious man on the bunk bed next to Andreia. “He’s in a bad way.” Owena pressed her fingertips against the injured man’s neck. “His pulse is thin and fast. What happened to him?”
“Berentar took a bad fall from the roof of a building when the Onotharians attacked.” The younger man next to him shook his head. “I’ve taken care of him, but I got this when I asked for medical attention for him.” He showed a bad contusion to the side of his head, apparently from the butt of a plasma-pulse rifle.
“Berentar?” Andreia rose quickly and approached them. “Are you a member of Paladin’s and Berentar’s cell?”
“Yes. I’m Eosomas.” He stopped, suddenly looking even younger as he frowned. “They were going to send me to Kovos, but I managed to sneak along with Berentar, so he’d have someone he knew to take care of him. Do you have any news of my resistance cell?”
“We’ll talk about this later,” Owena hushed them, motioning with her chin at the new prisoners that entered the room.
Andreia knew they had to keep a very low profile. Eosomas was probably who he said he was, but they had to confirm this with Roshan before they continued their operation. They were under time pressure, since they had to coordinate with the Protector and Doc on Kovos. In the meantime, Andreia knew it would be wise to try and single out which one in their room was an Onotharian agent. She knew their methods, had even been forced to condone some of them herself, to keep her secret identity intact.
She glanced around the room, examined the faces of the eight men and six women, not counting Berentar and Eosomas. They all looked scared, some injured, and others merely fatigued.
Andreia sighed. So. Which one of you is the traitor?
Chapter Eighteen
Kellen moved quickly through the crowd on Kovos, clutching disposable bottles of water and food rations against her chest. Her hair was in complete disarray, and her scalp stung from where a woman had yanked it, trying to get to the food dispenser. Annoyed, Kellen couldn’t muster any anger toward people who had to fight for their food once a day. She doubted there was quite enough for everyone; in fact, she wondered if the Onotharians didn’t estimate how many rations they needed, then downsize.
Around her, people pushed and shoved to get closer to the dispenser. Kellen could tell which prisoners had been on Kovos the longest. They were undernourished and pale, with tattered outfits hanging from their bony frame. We need to get out of here and take them to SC medical facilities.
Admiral Ewan Jacelon, Kellen’s father-in-law, had arranged for the medical planners among his staff to deploy three of the SC’s medical ships to the border. As soon as the SC forces were able to go forward, they would be ready to join the convoy.
Kellen ducked into the cave—there was no other word for the “room” she, Doc, Sarambol, and Ayahliss occupied with twenty other prisoners. Knowing full well that her food supplies wouldn’t be enough for all of them, she sat down as inconspicuously as possible and handed out the rations. They had no real beds; instead they slept on mattresses laid out on the floor with one blanket each. Kellen had learned of a black market of sorts for blankets, and she’d traded the camisole she’d worn under her prison shirt for a second blanket for Sarambol. The woman now huddled under the covers, pale and reluctant to eat.
“I’m really nauseous,” she moaned, “but I guess it’s normal?”
“It is,” Doc agreed, and held out half a ration bar. “But you still have to eat. You can’t sustain the child merely on water.”
Sarambol took the bar and nibbled it before swallowing hard. “Oh, that tastes awful. But anything for my baby.” She smiled bravely and nibbled another piece.
“I imagine it’s madness out there,” Doc said, and sat down next to Kellen.
“Yes, it is. We have to wait until everything calms down, then reconnoiter. As far as I can tell, the only surveillance equipment is around the major gates, where we came in. I suppose their philosophy is, ‘Out of sight, out of mind.’” She shrugged. “An Earth saying.”
“I understand.” Doc took a sip of water, then carefully closed his bottle and placed it inside his waistband. “So, when the new prisoners settle down, we need to figure out who’s the leader in here.”
“Yes,” Kellen agreed. “Someone usually takes charge in places like these, and since most of the prisoners here are resistance members, or dissidents, I’m hoping that they still live by some sort of code of honor.”
“There’s always hope.” Kellen turned to the young girl next to her. “Ayahliss, can you tell me how you came to train in Gan’thet?”
Ayahliss took a mouthful of her bar and chewed energetically. She resembled a power nacelle all by herself and seemed to be able to go full force all day. “The monks of the Quasatira Loy taught me.”
Kellen stared at Ayahliss. “There’s no way you could have…You’re too young!”
“Are you calling me a liar?” Ayahliss stopped chewing and got to her knees. “I never lie!”
Groaning inwardly at Ayahliss’s volatile nature, Kellen held up her hand. “No, I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m merely suggesting that you may have been tricked into believing—”
“I wasn’t tricked. The monks took me in as a baby, when they found me on their Journey. I grew up with them, and they taught me everything I know. I have knowledge in six subjects that equal the degrees and diplomas at the University of Ganath, according to Ramnes Hegor.”
Kellen tried to sort through what Ayahliss was telling them. “They were on a journey? Where to?”
“They were hunted down, one by one, during the occupation, and the holy place Quasatira Loy was leveled.” Ayahliss’s voice sank an octave and was barely more than a whisper. “Only twelve of them survived by hiding among ordinary people, and when they found their way back to each other, they prayed together for days. Eventually the Gods of Gantharat gave them a sign that they needed to relocate. Ramnes Dymor had a vision of an abandoned temple inside a cave.” The girl fidgeted and her distress was obvious. “I was one of a total of ten children of various ages who the monks took in during the years just after the occupation. They wandered for four years, during which time they located me and the other children, before they found the cave.”
“Where?” Doc said, as they all listened to Ayahliss’s story.
“On the peninsula of Davost, inside the last part of the Merealian Mountains, they found an abandoned ancient temple, originally only a myth among the local people. The monks knew there had to be more truth to it and found the entrance. It was perfect, easy to defend if necessary.” Ayahliss drank some water. “So, that’s where I grew up.”
“What ‘degrees’ do you have?” Mandira asked. “I mean, what did Ramnes Hegor teach you?”
Ayahliss smiled. “Oh, it wasn’t just him. They all possessed different skills, and I learn easily, it seems. I have the knowledge equal to a degree in astronomy, herbal healing, mathematics, pottery, martial arts, and literature.”
Mandira looked stunned and not doubtful at all. “Amazing,” she said. “And you say it as if it were nothing.”
“Oh, I don’t mean it’s nothing.” Ayahliss grinned. “It was damn hard work, and a lot of test
s, but I had very little else to do in the valley and inside the old temple.”
“And how did you end up in the resistance?”
“I grew up. It was time for me to leave, Ramnes Hegor said. I didn’t want to, not really, but once I went out into the world and saw the injustices of the Onotharians, I knew I had to help do something about the situation.” Ayahliss’s face darkened. “I was naïve. I wasn’t prepared for reality on the outside. Every new friend I made in my resistance cell was either captured or killed.”
And so your fury grew almost out of control. Kellen knew all too well how it felt to lose a loved one. There was a time when I thought it was because of me, of my failure, that Father and Tereya died.
“I was at base camp with my cell leaders when the Onotharians struck. They killed the XO right before our eyes, and my cell leader…I’m not sure, but I think they took her to another holding place. That or she’s dead.”
“She’s probably on her way to Vaksses,” Doc murmured. “So, now we know.” He looked at Kellen with an eyebrow raised. “We have quite an eclectic group here to start working with.”
“Yes.” Kellen glanced into the corridor. “I think it’s calmed down enough for us to begin. Ayahliss, can I count on you to keep Mandira and Sarambol safe?”
“Certainly.” Ayahliss looked as if she was ready to take on the entire Onotharian force. “No harm will come to them. I give you my word.”
Kellen wanted to smile at the solemn way the girl spoke, but knew it was wise not to do so. She rose and tucked her water bottle into her waistband as Doc had just done. If she lost it, she’d have nothing to drink until tomorrow.
The roughly carved, winding corridors were still full of people. Some stood in groups, discussing loudly their fate and their accommodations. Very few seemed to consider this a good time to gather their forces and come up with a plan. How did the Onotharians break them so quickly? How could brave and patriotic rebels become so quarrelsome, small-minded, and scared?
As they moved to the right of the tunnel leading to the arch in the asteroid, the walls became darker, grimier. This was obviously the older part of the prison, and here they found fewer people standing around in agitated groups. Instead, the inhabitants moved slowly and glanced at Kellen and Doc with very little interest, as if newcomers were a common sight, something they really couldn’t bother with.
“What’s with these people?” Kellen asked. “Granted, some of them have been here for years, and it’s understandable that—”
“Hey! You two! Get in here!” a male voice hissed from one of the small caves. “Hurry! Don’t let anyone see you.”
Mystified, Kellen glanced at Doc, who shrugged. It was up to her. “Stay focused,” she said to him before she ducked and entered the cave. Inside, she examined what had obviously been someone’s home for a long time. “Who are you?” she asked, making sure she stood with her back against the wall, near the exit.
“Who I am matters little.” The man spoke Gantharian with a faint accent. “I spotted you two earlier and noticed you aren’t afraid and panicked like the other newcomers.” He stepped into the faint light from the diode lamp next to Kellen. Long, blond hair, kept in a rugged ponytail, ran down his skeletal back, and it was impossible to judge his age. He had blue eyes, like most Gantharians, and boasted a semi-long beard. It was impossible to judge the color of his skin in the muted light. Looking closer, Kellen saw the man’s eyes were clear and intelligent despite his obviously worn state.
“It’s who you are and what you’re doing here that’s important. I’ve been here long enough to distinguish friend from foe. You seem…neither, and that’s impossible. You’re probably here on a mission.” The man scratched his beard. “What mission, I ask myself? Can you be the answer to my prayers, or are you just another set of bad news?”
Kellen decided this might just be the opening she and Doc were looking for. A man who appeared to have been incarcerated here for years couldn’t be on the Onotharians’ good side. “We are here to help,” she said cautiously. “My name is Kellen. This is Doc.”
“Those your call signs? You resistance?”
“Yes. We are.” Kellen didn’t elaborate. “It seems you’ve been here a long time, sir.”
The courtesy wasn’t wasted on the man. “Too long. I’ve been on Kovos since right after they attacked and the occupation began.”
Doc stepped closer. “Would you mind if I give you a quick medical scan?”
“Want to make sure that I’m Gantharian?” The man chuckled. “You’re going to be disappointed. I’m not.”
“No?” Doc frowned and turned to Kellen, his eyes darkening.
“Scan him anyway. We need to know if you have any illness that impairs you after such a long time in captivity.”
“Fine.” The man shrugged. “Go ahead, young man.”
Doc scanned the old man’s skinny frame. “You have bronchitis, several digestive tract parasites, and rheumatoid arthritis. These things are easily cured, normally, so I take it the prisoners on Kovos don’t get much medical attention.”
“Only if what we have is contagious enough to pose a danger to the guards who randomly patrol the corridors. They only come a few times during every lunar cycle, except when there’s a drill to educate new guards.” He shrugged, only to grimace at what had to be pain from the movement. “Besides, one has only to use common sense around here to realize that these diseases are unavoidable. We have no medical scanners, derma fusers, or any other medical instruments. It’s been too long since I used them, and I’m sure I wouldn’t even recognize the new technology of today.”
“You’re a physician?” Doc scanned the man again, and now he looked at Kellen with an odd expression on his face. “Gods of Gantharat—”
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Kellen’s heart began racing, because Doc looked as if he’d been hit by a plasma-pulse rifle. She half raised her hands in a defensive gan’thet position.
“He’s human, Kellen. A human physician! Do you realize what that means?”
Kellen frowned and looked at the man. “What’s your name?” she asked again.
“I think your friend here has already figured that out. I was the only human on Gantharat, before I was imprisoned.”
“Your name is Mikael O’Landha,” Doc whispered, a catch in his voice. “You must realize your daughter thinks you’re dead.”
Kellen tried to follow the unexpected thread of conversation. “Please explain what you’re talking about, Doc. How can you know who this is?”
“Paladin’s true identity is Roshan O’Landha. This…” He placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “…is Mikael O’Landha, her father. Paladin thinks he’s been dead for decades. It was what she was told.”
Mikael O’Landha stood rigid in the center of the small cave. “Roshan? You know Roshan?”
“Yes. She’s a resistance leader.”
“I heard from other resistance fighters that she’s a collaborator.” Mikael’s voice became cold. “She’s trading with them.”
“You think of your daughter that badly?” Doc said. “That’s just a front. She uses every credit she makes, more or less, to organize and outfit the resistance. She’s the reason Kellen is here.”
Doc raised questioning eyes to Kellen, who guessed what he was asking. She nodded, knowing they had to convince this patriarch of the Kovos asteroid prison of their true intent. Kellen guessed he pulled a lot of weight around the ones who’d been here a long time, and they needed this break.
“Your daughter is solely responsible for bringing back our last surviving Protector of the Realm, Kellen O’Dal,” Doc said.
“What lies are these?” Mikael sighed, obviously getting fed up with their preposterous statements.
“These are no lies, Dr. O’Landha.” Kellen walked closer and took both his hands in hers. “I am the last of the O’Dals. My father was Bondar O’Dal, resistance leader and Protector of the Realm before me. When he died, during an ambush, your da
ughter brought him home to me, so I could bury him. I was then responsible for Princess Tereya O’Saral.” Kellen filled the apparently stunned Mikael in on Armeo’s existence.
He let go of her hands and fumbled for a stool, which wobbled precariously as he sat down, listening to how Kellen’s and Armeo’s flight to Supreme Constellations space had been the turning point in the SC’s ongoing debate about whether or not to engage the Onotharians.
“And now, with all these senior rebel fighters in custody, the Onotharians have struck a blow that we need to mitigate,” Kellen said. “Sir, do you realize how important it is that we unite our people, here, and on Vaksses?”
“Protector…” Mikael wiped his forehead. “I’ve heard of this other prison. How do you propose we communicate with Vaksses?” He was in no way scornful; he merely asked a question.
“We have communication devices inserted.” Kellen didn’t reveal where they were located, since she still had some misgivings. She wanted to trust Paladin’s father, wanted to think he was their way to success, but he had been incarcerated for decades, and who knew what the Onotharians had subjected him to? Still, her instincts told her he was a man of strength, and she hoped she’d turn out to be right. “Are you willing to help us organize our fighters?”
“I have nothing to lose,” Mikael said, not even hesitating. “My daughter has obviously risked her life in the resistance for the duration of my imprisonment. My wife is long gone, and if there’s even a remote chance for me to see Roshan again…” His voice broke, but he appeared beyond tears. He rose from the stool with new strength. “I know just who we should talk to. Corgan and Bellish live two caves down this corridor. They are our leaders, something newcomers usually find out quickly.”
“And you think they’ll listen to us?” Kellen asked. “We don’t have a lot of time.”
“They won’t listen to you, but they’ll hear me out,” Mikael said confidently. “We’re the same age. They knew me before we were captured, and…they knew Jin-Jin.”