The Sorrow Anthology

by Helen Allan

  “There are some, though,” she said quietly, “and this was their planet before the gods came, before you came. We owe them. I have to, at the very least warn them - they deserve the opportunity to have an input into this decision.”

  “I do not agree,” Judgment said.

  “I have to say, ma cherie,” Etienne said from where he was sitting, now studying Ib with an artist’s eye and pulling out a pencil and folded paper from his pocket, “that I would expect no less of you, and you should certainly meet with these Nãga and tell them there are plans to nuke their planet.”

  “Thank you, Etienne,” she said, rolling her eyes at Judgment, his new second in command, and Raphael who sat silently, refusing to add his thoughts, “I will leave in the morning.”

  “And I shall go with you,” Etienne said.

  “No.”

  “Ma belle, I have already been apart from you for two years. I wish to accompany you on your mission.”

  “It might seem like two years to you,” Sorrow laughed, “but it was only seven months to me, and I’m still angry with you for following me. If you had done as you said you would, you wouldn’t have found yourself working as a sex slave for years.”

  Raphael laughed, but Etienne shook his head.

  “Have you learned nothing of me in our travels, Sorrow? I do not follow your orders; I am your friend, yes, but I follow my own judgement.”

  “Yes, exactly,” Sorrow smirked, “and Judgment needs you here.”

  “It’s true,” Judge sighed, “you are the only one who can slip in and out of The Finger without really being noticed. I need you to get into that aircraft hangar and find out everything you can about the security surrounding them now. When the time comes, and we are ready to infiltrate and destroy them, I want nothing left to chance. We will blow this entire planet to smithereens and escape in the space fleet – Tefnut will never see it coming.”

  “Judge,” Sorrow shook her head, “no matter what the Nãga say, we will only need one more spacecraft. There are only about 500 left in the resistance, plus their findailes and trainees – the remainder of the ships can stay.”

  “No,” he shook his head, “no one can be allowed to escape, Sorrow. Put aside your soft heart and think with your head.”

  “But,” she frowned, “the babies, the children…”

  “Won’t know what hit them,” he said quietly.

  Sorrow bit her tongue, there was no point arguing this at the moment, but she was determined to save the children, and if that meant opposing Judgment and scuttling the nuclear plan, then so be it.

  She looked across to where Jury sat on the floor next to Ib, both of them regarding her with deep, serious eyes. Knowing how the boy had been conceived, the beatings and hardships he had suffered from the moment he was born to make him impervious to pain, to suffer silently, to feel no emotion – she would not allow any who had been treated so to die a death they did not deserve in the fight to free the galaxy of Tefnut’s tyranny. The death of just one more child made the whole plan inconceivable to her.

  “I will go back,” Etienne nodded slowly, seeing Sorrow’s expression, “and I will gather the intelligence you require, but,” he frowned at Judge, “I will not help destroy the aircraft or blow up this world if Sorrow is not back by my side and in total agreement. I have known her long enough to trust her prodigious intelligence. And, I will do everything in my power to save the skinless and the children they birthed - do you understand me, monster?”

  Judgement and Ib both growled at the same time.

  “If we are resolute in saving the children, then it seems to me we will need a second, perhaps a third spacecraft,” Raphael said quietly, “we may as well try for them all. One for a small resistance team to get the bomb from the armaments depot and drop it, one for the bulk of the resistance to leave the planet before it goes off, and one for the children to also abandon this rock – you said there were at least 500 little ones, Sorrow?

  “At least, and their skinless birth mothers,” she added, “we will take them too. They can look after the babies and children. And the findailes that have yet been joined to red leaders, we need to rescue them too; maybe we can take them all home.”

  Ib studied her intently as she said this.

  Judgment groaned, head in hands.

  “It sounds like a good plan,” Sorrow nodded, “if the Nãga agree to the bomb. If they are few, we will need another aircraft to evacuate them too. If there are many, perhaps I can persuade them, if they exist in any number, to join our army and fight the Gharial in the usual way, without the need for nuclear weapons.”

  Etienne and Raphael nodded.

  “If we are to go down this path I believe we need an agreement, a vocal and honest agreement, from our red leader,” Etienne said quietly, as he continued to sketch Ib, “just to be sure we are all on the same page. No surprises, no sudden change of heart that leaves some allies, how shall I put this? Dead.”

  “We go nowhere without Sorrow,” Judgment said, taking his hands from his face, his voice ice, “that you would suggest otherwise shows your complete lack of understanding of our situation.”

  Etienne put his pen aside and raised one eyebrow as he focussed on the red leader.

  “I would be happy to take you outside and help you understand my thoughts with clarity.”

  “Etienne,” Sorrow shook her head, “no more fighting. You are both covered in bruises from the last punch up. We are all on the same side. No one is going to blow the shit out of this planet until I have spoken to the Nãga and figured out a way to save those who are slaves to the gods; babies, skinless, findailes and humans. I’m trusting all of you,” she looked at each man carefully, “to work together and agree to this.”

  “Just keep in mind,” Judgment sighed, “that my plan will be executed when the portals open in a matter of months. Get back before then, Sorrow.”

  “Our plan,” she said quietly, “you keep that in mind, Judgement.”

  8

  Sorrow walked across the hot sands, her weapons holstered, shielding her face from the sun with her hands, and hoped she had not miscalculated. Already she was feeling the effects of the low oxygen levels outside, although not as badly as when she had first landed.

  As she approached where Judge had indicated on the map the portal would have materialised in six months, had they not blown it up, she called out to the two Nãga guards sitting in the sand. They had their backs to her and appeared to be playing some sort of game with small stones.

  As one they shouted their surprise and burst to their feet, drawing their weapons and levelling them at her.

  She raised her hands high in the air and stopped, recognising instantly the two guards who had initially discovered her so many months before.

  ‘Oh great, Bill and Ted,’ she inwardly groaned.

  “I come in peace,” she said loudly, almost laughing as she said it, as the next words of a song she had once heard resonated in her head; ‘shoot to kill, shoot to kill.’

  “Don’t shoot,” she added quickly to the pair.

  “Hey, we caught it again,” one of the guards shouted, holding its weapon awkwardly out from its body as though it had never used it before.

  “I come to talk to your leader,” Sorrow said, advancing another small step towards the pair, “I am unarmed.”

  “No, you’re not,” the second guard said, pointing to her holstered weapons.

  “No,” Sorrow shook her head, “but I don’t have them in my hands. My hands are raised.”

  “But you said you were unarmed,” the first guard said, “so you lied.”

  Sorrow realised the pair were, as she remembered, not the brightest sparks. She would need to use simple language if she was to convince them to take her to their leader.

  “We should shoot it,” the first guard said, “before it gets away again.”

  “No!” Sorrow shouted, advancing two more, quick steps, “your leaders will be very angry with you if you k
ill me. I have information they need to know. There is danger coming for your kind, a big war.”

  “On the ground,” the second guard said, “with your hands behind your back.”

  Sorrow reluctantly laid on the hot desert sand and did as she was told.

  The two guards ran towards her, one jumping on her back, his knee digging painfully into her side.

  “I got her,” he laughed.

  “You didn’t get me, you idiot,” Sorrow snorted, “I surrendered.”

  “Tie her hands,” the first guard said.

  “That is really not necessary,” Sorrow muttered, spitting out sand, “I gave myself up.”

  The pair continued to tie her, before hauling her to her feet, ignoring her protests.

  “Should we take her back?” the first asked, poking her stomach and breasts with his gun and tilting his head to look up her nose.

  “Yes, you know what the captain said last time.”

  “It has a pet findaile monster, remember, it almost killed us.”

  “Yeah, true. I guess we should shoot it and then go back, in case its monster is nearby.”

  “It would be good to show the other cadets first, though, you know they didn’t believe us – we can shoot it in front of them.”

  “Oh yes,” the first laughed, “good idea.”

  “Walk,” the first said, turning Sorrow East and giving her a hard shove.

  “You don’t need to push me,” Sorrow growled, “I want to go with you.”

  The pair continued to argue about what she was, whether they were doing the right thing, who had won at dice and who had captured her for the next two hours, as they frog-marched her across the hot desert sands.

  Finally, having completely zoned out for much of their vacuous discussions, Sorrow noticed the terrain change slightly, the ground more littered in rocks and boulders than before.

  Stumbling on a rock, she righted herself before she could fall, and addressed the closest guard.

  “Are we nearly there?”

  The guard ignored her and took her arm, drawing her to a halt before a section of ground that was clear of rocks and pebbles, and spinning her around three times.

  “Ugh,” Sorrow muttered, feeling even dizzier as they opened a trap door and led her down a long flight of stairs, one guard before her, one behind.

  The stairs, Sorrow counted 900, eventually ended at the entrance to a wide tunnel. They then pushed her into an elevator which dropped, Sorrow estimated given her feeling of nausea, several hundred feet per second.

  “Why did you spin me?” she asked the closest guard when they stepped out of the lift and all stood together, her eyes slowly adjusting to the new subterranean light.

  “So, you wouldn’t know which way we went,” he rolled his eyes, as though this was perfectly obvious.

  “It is stupid,” the second laughed.

  Sorrow held her tongue.

  The tunnel system was well-lit with a bright white luminescent light that seemed to beam down from the ceiling, nothing like what she had expected after her months living in the cavern beneath the mountain with the resistance. But, like the cavern, there was more oxygen down here than above ground.

  “You don’t have to push me,” she frowned as she received another jab in the lower back, “I came here of my own accord.”

  “I didn’t see any cord,” one guard said

  “It speaks strangely. It is not of this world, obviously,” the other replied, giving her another sharp jab in the back with his weapon.

  “I think it is. It is a slave, but a deformed one. Perhaps it escaped its masters.”

  “I’m not a slave,” Sorrow shook her head, but they continued as though she had not spoken.

  “I will be the one to kill it,” the first said in a light, almost happy voice, as though it was discussing the weather.

  “I’m the one with my gun out. I get to kill it.”

  “We both want to use our guns; maybe we could both shoot it.”

  “Yes, but I get to shoot it in the face.”

  “Very well, I will shoot it in the chest – if it is as hard to kill as they say the red ones are, it will need two shots.”

  “Agreed.”

  “If I had attacked,” Sorrow muttered, “neither of you would have had time to shoot me, you fucking idiots.”

  “Maybe we should both shoot her in the face too,” the one jabbing her in the back responded, causing them both to laugh.

  “Halt,” a third voice said from the end of an intersecting corridor they were now approaching, “what do you have?”

  “It’s the captain,” one of her captors whispered to the other.

  “Let me handle this,” the other replied. “A prisoner,” he said loudly, and Sorrow thought, somewhat proudly, to the Nãga who now approached from the other end of the hallway.

  “He will take it from us for sure,” the first guard whispered, “and we didn’t get to show the cadets.”

  “Shit on shit,” the second whispered back as the one who had called to them came close.

  Sorrow assessed the newcomer as he stepped into the light and stood, studying her in return. He was taller than her captors, older and more muscular, his face more angular. His scales shone golden and green in the light. He wore no shirt, just tight brown leggings and what looked to be weaponised gauntlets on his forearms. Clearly, this one was a soldier, fit, dangerous, and yet, something about his face didn’t say to Sorrow that he was a killer, his eyes, large and golden, seemed soft.

  “I am not a prisoner,” Sorrow said, loud enough to cause the one who had spoken to step back slightly and frown as he scanned her from head to toe. “I came here to see your leader. I am on this planet to overthrow the alien gods and their army, and I need your help.”

  “We can shoot it if you like,” the guard at her back said hopefully.

  “Is it totally impossible for you two to follow orders?” the soldier barked at the two Nãga, ignoring Sorrow.

  “Well,” one began.

  “That was a rhetorical question,” the officer growled, “I told you, in no uncertain terms, that if indeed you did see something jump through the portal you were to leave it and return here to report the matter.”

  “Yes, but it didn’t jump through,” one of the Nãga replied quickly, “it just walked by, and we caught it.”

  “You didn’t catch me,” Sorrow said again, drawing the eyes of the soldier, who regarded her coolly.

  “You are both under punishment duties for the rest of the week; you will report to my headquarters the moment you lock this creature in the cells.”

  The two Nãga holding her groaned and began to move.

  “Wait,” Sorrow said, trying to step back, but finding herself pressed close by the two guards behind her, “I came of my own accord. I do not intend to escape; prison is not necessary.”

  “We don’t know what you are,” the one who ordered her imprisonment frowned, meeting her gaze and shaking his head, “it is for your own protection, and ours.”

  “OK,” Sorrow nodded, “but you might want to keep Heckle and Jeckle here at a distance, they are dead keen to shoot me in the face.”

  The Nãga captain laughed, a deep and rich chuckle which echoed through the tunnel.

  “I can assure you that will not happen,” he said, still laughing as he nodded for the guards to lead her away, “their weapons contain only blanks.”

  Sorrow sat in the cell and studied her nails. The dry desert air had caused them to split and chip. The highly oxygenated water in the pool she bathed in, inside the mountain retreat of the resistance, had also seemingly contained minerals that dried out, rather than fed her skin, which also felt parched.

  She ran a hand through her hair and retied her ponytail. Her hair felt like straw, and she grimaced. What she wouldn’t give for a long hot shower with soap, shampoo, conditioner and a fluffy white towel to step into.

  She swallowed hard and frowned, the thought of water making her even m
ore acutely aware of her thirst. Two hours tramping in the heat, and the long walk down the stairs followed by the frogmarch through countless corridors to this cell had left her dehydrated.

  “Hey,” she shouted now to the door, uncertain if anyone was behind it or could hear her. “I need a drink, please, I need some water.”

  She raised her eyebrows in surprise as she heard a key turn in the lock and watched the door swing open.

  A young Nãga entered, holding her gun at the ready in one hand, a container of water in the other. Sorrow could immediately see the guard was a girl, her body shapely underneath her tight uniform, hips clearly feminine, although her chest seemed flat.

  “Here,” the girl said, putting the flask on the floor and stepping backwards towards the door, her eyes not leaving Sorrow’s.

  “Do you even have real bullets in that thing?” Sorrow smirked as she leant down and, opening the bottle, sniffed the contents.

  ‘Water.’

  She gulped greedily from the flask, spilling a little down her front, continuing to watch the female as she stood uncertainly at the doorway.

  “No,” the female Nãga said. “But how did you know that?”

  “You might want to rethink your strategy when it comes to prisoners,” Sorrow snorted ruefully, “if I was dangerous, if I wanted to get down here and kill you all, you wouldn’t have stood a chance. Especially don’t go around telling people you are carrying blanks – just a heads-up there.”

  “Thank you,” the Nãga said earnestly, “I will remember that lesson.”

  Sorrow frowned.

  “Why are you guarding me? Don’t your people have real prisons for criminals and dangerous offenders?”

  “Oh yes,” she smiled, lowering her gun, “but those are back on world. This is the cadet recruitment and training centre; we do up-world manoeuvres and training, so, we don’t really have a proper prison. This room is for cadets who misbehave.”

  “Ah,” Sorrow nodded, “so the man who ordered me locked up…?”