Wasteland: Sirain Rises

by Ann Bakshis

  How could Tobin do this to us? What did they do to him to make him turn on us?

  I know they’re going to kill Braxton, so I need to get to him, but I don’t even know where they took him. I stand in front of the large window inlaid in the door and look out into the Cylinder. The entrance is an iron gate, secured by electrical fencing. The cells line the outer walls, with a railing between a walkway and the dust-covered floor of the courtyard. Dangling over the floor are a series of chains, each with a binder at the end, and monitors that are currently off.

  I step back just as the display in the upper corner of my room comes to life. It’s Braxton, strapped to a chair, his uniform shirt removed, with a cut above his eye that’s dripping down his face, and Caderyn pacing around Braxton like a maypole.

  “So, Captain, what made you come out here?” Caderyn asks, hands clasped behind his back.

  “Fuck you.”

  A soldier steps forward and hits Braxton hard across the face, opening a new wound on his cheek.

  “What are you trying to accomplish by coming here? There’s nothing in this place but lawbreakers, defectors, and traitors. I recommended to Vladim that Sirain only really needs one Reformatory, so this one should been burnt to the ground. Of course, he feels differently.”

  I look out the door and see the monitors in the courtyard are still off.

  Am I the only one seeing this? What’s the purpose? To show me Braxton dying or to show me how he breaks?

  Two soldiers approach Braxton, each securing a ring around one of his biceps. The ring is made of a black metal with a thin blue light circling the center.

  “Now, Captain, let’s begin again.” Caderyn stops pacing and turns to face Braxton. “What’s your purpose in coming here?”

  “Fuck off.”

  “Wrong answer.”

  The blue light of the rings intensifies as Braxton screams in pain. This lasts only a few seconds, but his cries echo in my head. My stomach tightens as fear takes over. I didn’t want him to come along to begin with, and this is why. He’s not like me, he can’t take torture. His body will breakdown eventually, leading to his death, which will be my fault, like all the others. I sink down to the floor, gripping my stomach, tears streaming down my face. I tilt my head up to look back at the monitor.

  “Why are you here?” Caderyn shouts.

  Braxton remains silent.

  The soldiers approach him again, slide the rings down to just below the welts on his arms, and the torture begins again, this time it lasts almost a minute. I cover my ears from the screams. It’s ripping my heart apart.

  “If I can’t get you to talk,” Caderyn begins walking away from Braxton, “maybe I can get this young man to speak.”

  The camera swings over to Piran, also strapped to a chair, and with the same metal rings around his biceps.

  “No!” I scream at the display. “Stop!” But no one hears me. My voice is absorbed by the thick padding lining the walls of my cell.

  “Now, son, who are you?”

  “Piran,” he answers quietly. Sweat building on his face.

  “And where did you come from, Piran?”

  “Beyond the borders of Sirain.”

  “Very good,” Caderyn smiles. “Perhaps you would like to tell me why your little group decided to come pay us a visit.”

  Piran remains silent. He’s looking straight ahead, probably directly at Braxton, perhaps taking cues from him.

  “Answer me, son,” Caderyn says, voice rising in anger.

  Piran stays quiet.

  “Have it your way.”

  The blue light brightens, but Piran doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t make a sound. I can see the tears in his eyes from the pain he’s experiencing, but he’s holding it together. Relief sets in when the devices are turned off. Caderyn motions for the soldiers to reset the rings lower on his arm, but as they remove the bands, they notice he has no markings.

  “You’re an Antaean?” Caderyn asks, surprised by the discovery. He walks behind Piran and pushes his head down to examine the back of his neck, but he won’t find any dots or symbols. “How old are you?”

  “Sixteen.”

  “That’s not possible.”

  “Why isn’t it?” Braxton asks. “The other three Antaeans you have are younger than he is. Why does it surprise you that more exist?”

  Caderyn doesn’t respond. A look of confusion envelops his face. He motions for the soldiers to remove Piran and lock him in the cell next to mine.

  “Captain Braxton, you are to be executed at first light.”

  The display shuts off. I wonder what time it is. There aren’t any windows nearby so I can’t tell when the sun will be rising. I need to get my strength back, and fast. I lie down on the bench, trying to calm myself down. Piran passes my window, a scared look upon his face. Minutes pass like hours, my anxiety building every second.

  If they’re going to execute Braxton, they’ll do it publicly, which means in the courtyard. I need to get out of my room before then, but how? I could break the glass, but it’s linked to an alarm above the door. I could melt the handle, but that will more than likely lock me in, not let me out. I climb up onto the bench against the wall, reach up to the monitor, and rip it down. I pull out as much wiring as I can from the back, then take two wires and slide them between the doorframe and the lock, trying to get them as close to the metal plate as possible. I take the other ends, get back onto the bench, and reach for the alarm above the door. It takes me several tries, but I manage to connect the wires from the door to the wires in the alarm.

  The lights shut off. I look out towards the courtyard and see faint traces of sunlight radiating through the ceiling. I secure two more wires to the ones in the doorframe. Taking the exposed ends, I insert them into the two small ports in my palm. It hurts, but I ignore the minor discomfort. The stream is now following the course of the wires. It connects to the other set and flows up to the alarm, shorting it out. The lock disengages and my door pops open a crack. I remove the wires from my hand, pull open the door, and poke my head out.

  The hallway is empty, but I hear a procession of feet heading in my direction. I slip out of the room, making sure to close the door behind me. I cross the walkway into the Cylinder. The building is more elliptical than cylindrical. The cells are packed with prisoners, most still asleep.

  “Attention inmates, please exit your cells in an orderly fashion. A punishment is about to begin,” a raspy voice announces through hidden speakers.

  I can’t get to the cells as they’re blocked off by a security door. There isn’t a place for me to hide. I slink back to my room as the cell doors open and prisoners fill the walkways. I push my door closed, but still leaving a gap. A parade of soldiers comes into view, Braxton standing in the center of them. I don’t see Caderyn anywhere in the fold. Tobin is in the lead next to an older man wearing a higher ranking uniform. Probably Caderyn’s second in command.

  Tobin secures Braxton to a set of binders, his bare feet barely touching the ground. The soldiers spread out, placing themselves just under the monitors as they spring to life showing Braxton.

  “For crimes against Acheron and Sirain,” the Lieutenant begins, “Captain Braxton of the High Ruler guard is hereby condemned to death.”

  A soldier steps forward, holding a weapon I’ve never seen before. He shoots out two long cords that wrap themselves around Braxton’s torso. They begin to glow blue as Braxton yells.

  I bolt out of the room and run towards Braxton as screams and shouts of anger echo from the inmates, many shouting to release him. I’m sure many of them are Regulators, but from what I’ve observed of Braxton these many months, he’s fair to everyone. He must have treated many of these prisoners with kindness no one else showed them.

  It’s the straw that breaks their backs. Scuffles begin in the walkways. Tobin is yelling orders to his soldiers, but the crowd is too great. Levin blasts are fired. The distraction allows me to enter the courtyard without anyone notic
ing. Chaos reigns as soldiers shoot at anyone wearing an inmate uniform. Prisoners jump down from the walkways above, landing on soldiers, and fighting for their weapons.

  I apply pressure to the binders and they break, though I burn Braxton slightly in the process. One of the prisoners slides Braxton a Levin gun he has taken from a soldier.

  “We need to get to weapons storage,” Braxton gasps, his muscles still contracting from the electricity. “If the code hasn’t been changed it should be five seven nine one.”

  He gestures for me to go, but I hesitate, not wanting to leave him. Tobin grabs my arm and drags me out of the courtyard.

  “Here,” he says, handing me a Levin gun, “you’re going to need this.”

  He goes to work on freeing the others while I go to the guards’ quarters where the storage is. I get to the room, enter the code, and the door opens. Vier, Lehen, Piran, and Tobin are soon behind me, grabbing as many weapons as they can carry. We arm any prisoner we see.

  The Reformatory is reclaimed from the Tyrean army in just under two hours. Of the five thousand prisoners, just under one hundred are killed. Twenty-five out of thirty soldiers are dead. Tobin takes the remaining soldiers and locks them in the men’s showers down by the lifts. Caderyn is not among the dead or captured. He left an hour before the scheduled execution.

  Coward. What kind of man makes threats, then can’t even stick around to see them carried out? He’s next for execution after Vladim.

  CHAPTER 18

  A medic tends to Braxton’s wounds in the guards’ quarters while Tobin and the others get the prisoners settled down and situated. The Regulators that had been placed with the prisoners are checking on the other wounded. I’m at the main desk with Draken, the former head of the Reformatory.

  “An alarm has been raised,” he says to me. “It’ll take only a few hours for more troops to arrive.”

  “What kind of transportation do you have?”

  “We have a few carriages in the hangar behind the complex. The army brought an aerial unit when they arrived. It’s also in the hangar.”

  “Do you know how many people it can hold?”

  “No, but Tobin might. Why? What are you planning?”

  “Radio him for me. Have him meet me in the guards’ quarters.” I leave, not answering his question.

  Braxton is trying to get his shirt back on over thick bandages encasing his biceps and torso. The cut above his eye and on his check have been glued shut. The medic leaves us alone after packing his equipment. I tell Braxton about the airship.

  “That’ll make it faster to get to Acheron.”

  “Only if someone knows how to fly it.”

  “I do,” Tobin says, walking into the room.

  “Then we need to get going. Draken said an alarm went out to the army and they’ll be here shortly,” I say to Braxton.

  “Ok,” Braxton says, buttoning his shirt closed, “then we need to make this recruitment quick.”

  “Recruitment?” Tobin asks, surprised. “What are you planning on doing, Braxton?”

  “Getting into Acheron, but we need help.”

  “And you think coming here to get that help was a good idea?”

  “Yes, Tobin, I do. We need an army of our own to stop Vladim. If we can free Acheron, then we’ll have that army.”

  “Is this your idea, or hers?”

  It’s the first time I’ve ever heard anger in Tobin’s tone.

  “Mine,” Braxton answers, firmness in his voice.

  “What do you need me to do then, Captain?”

  “First, knock off the tone or I’ll lock you away with the rest of your soldiers.” Braxton walks over to weapons storage, opens the door, removes a belt, and secures it around his waist before holstering his guns. “We need to make an announcement in the Cylinder. Trea will be speaking in the courtyard and I need you to broadcast it on the monitors for all to see.”

  “I’ll have Draken get the cameras ready.” Tobin walks towards the door, stops, and turns around. “I’m not sure what kind of reception you’ll get, or who will even volunteer to go. Don’t be surprised if no one does.”

  After Tobin leaves, I turn to Braxton, anxious about what’s to come.

  “You shouldn’t wear the army uniform,” he says to me. “I’ll go to the transport and get your clothes. You should look like you when you speak.”

  He touches my face, kisses me hard on the lips, then leaves. I feel alone the minute he’s gone. He’s become so ingrained in my life, that I can’t picture it without him. I’ve never felt this way about anyone since Quin. I don’t want this feeling to go away, but fear it will. He returns several minutes later, my clothes in hand, and I change while he goes to advise the others.

  I’m nervous we won’t get anyone to follow us. If that happens, then this will have all been for nothing. I know some might come, but we need at least more than half of the Reformatory’s population to go or we won’t be able to take Acheron.

  There’s a knock on the door, then Lehen pokes his head in. “They’re ready for you,” he says.

  I follow him down the hall to the courtyard. The walkways are crammed with prisoners. I see my face on the monitors. The Quantum Stream in my eyes is more visible in the display than in any mirror.

  Does my appearance frighten everyone? I wonder what they think of someone like me asking them to give their lives for our freedom.

  I clear my throat. My mind swirls as I can’t grasp what to say. I begin to sweat and shake. I can feel everyone staring at me. Their eyes boring into my soul. Piran walks onto the floor. He stands next to me, eyes focused to people on the top floor.

  “Does anyone know who this woman is?” he shouts.

  “Trea!” a chorus of people sing out.

  “She and I need your help. Premier Vladim has declared himself ruler of Sirain. His sole purpose is to enslave those who won’t follow him, or kill those who oppose him. We Antaeans are here to make sure that doesn’t happen, but in order for us to do that we need all of you to join us. Vladim’s rule can only end if you assist in taking back your freedom.”

  The silence is heartbreaking, and I lash out.

  “Just so you know,” I shout to the crowd, “Vladim is sending reinforcements right now to retake this Reformatory. If you stay, you will definitely be killed, but if you come with us, you’ll have a chance at survival. I’ve seen the weapons this army uses. They’ll destroy this facility and everyone in it, including their own soldiers if need be. Don’t think for one minute that you can negotiate your way to freedom by staying here. I can guarantee you a chance for freedom, to see Vladim destroyed, and Sirain restored to order. I’m offering you an opportunity to take back your lives.”

  I begin to storm out of the courtyard, when a low rumble fills the Cylinder. It escalates into an eruption of shouts, cheers, and stomps, though not everyone is excited.

  Those who decide to follow us, meet us in the entrance. There aren’t enough weapons to go around, even though the turnout is low. We round up Lehen, Vier, Piran, and Tobin, who will go in the aerial unit, while the Regulators gather those to be transported in the carriages. Bevan, and surprisingly Draken, exit the main entrance to move our transport around the complex and lead the carriages away from the Reformatory.

  There’s a backdoor from the guards’ quarters with a path leading to the hangar. Tobin takes the lead, punches in the security code on the pad by the main door, and enters. Twelve carriages fill two hangar bays, each identical to the cars on the shuttle system that runs through Sirain. Regulators move as many people as they can fit into the vehicles, raising the hangar doors before moving out.

  The last bay holds the elusive airship that I’ve only heard, never seen, the one that’s been the cause of so much death and destruction.

  The aircraft stands three stories high. The front has a long antenna attached to a cone-shaped front that houses the cockpit. The body extends down into massive wings, each with a turbine facing down. The tail is short
, triangular in shape with two more turbines on the sides, and the coating is a dark metal, with red trim. A ramp extends from the center of the ship, and as we walk on board I notice the whole undercarriage is covered in reflective panels. This would explain why I’ve never seen it.

  Tobin steps to the front, Braxton following. The engines fire up as we take our seats in the middle of the craft by the ramp, harnessing ourselves in, our backs resting against the wall separating us from the weapons launch and holding area. We move slowly forward. Once outside, we begin to rise. Looking around the aircraft, I see that the interior is coated in the same dark metal as the exterior. A large emblem in dark blue and orange glows below our feet, illuminated from underneath. The image of a lion’s face, large and foreboding stares up at me. Flames encircle its head, radiating from the mane. Another symbol I don’t recognize.

  “What symbol is that?” I ask Tobin, who is busy maneuvering us higher into the sky.

  “The emblem for Sirain. Vladim has it on all the airships and transports.”

  So, he’s already started changing the symbols. I wonder what’s next.

  Three monitors hang from the wall in front of the cockpit entrance. Two show incoming aircraft. Tobin activates the reflective panels and we disappear into the mid-morning sky.

  “Though they’ll still see us on radar,” Tobin says, turning us away from the Reformatory.

  “Are there any weapons on this thing?” Lehen asks. “We need to protect those transports.”

  “Yes, there’s a Levin cannon in each of the weapons holds, but someone needs to be in there to control them.”

  Vier and I both volunteer. I take the compartment on the right, Vier on the left. I open the door, flip on the light, and notice four Quantum mortars locked to the floor and wall. There’s a ladder in the middle of the room. I climb up, but have to stop midway so I can turn the handle to open the hatch and raise the cannon. The place is small, just enough to hold one person. I take a seat on the stool attached to the weapon, activate it, and look through the scope. Tobin has us at a higher elevation than the other two airships, so I can see them coming in.