by S M Briscoe
“And it must remain so,” Xin’ma warned.
Shu’ma barely succeeded at keeping the outrage, Rho’uk knew he would be feeling, from showing as he spoke. “Overseer?”
“He is to be returned to Gaia, with haste, to be interrogated by the Prophets themselves. They have many questions for him, and we will ensure they are able to ask them. As is the will of the Gods.”
“Pardon my ignorance, Overseer, but . . . I do not understand.”
“My command does not require you to, Shu’ma.” Xin’ma’s voice was stern. He did not take to being questioned, even by his own son.
Shu’ma was silent a moment, most likely composing himself. “Forgive me, Overseer. I will see it done.”
Xin’ma nodded, approvingly. “I understand your frustration, my son. Your thirst for blood is warranted, and will be quenched, in due time.”
Shu’ma straightened himself, an attempt to maintain dignity before his father, no doubt. “We will return to you then, shortly, Overseer.”
“Shortly,” Xin’ma agreed, with a curt nod.
The Overseer’s image vanished a moment later, leaving Shu’ma and Rho’uk alone in the audience chamber. Rho’uk waited for the expected outburst from his comrade, an assortment of angry curses or a violent attack on the communications hub that had seconds ago projected the image of his father, but instead he stood silent and motionless for a long moment. When he finally turned, his expression was foul, but surprisingly subdued.
“It is finished then,” Rho’uk commented. “We return to Gaia. I will have the human prepared.”
“No,” Shu’ma returned, coldly. “You will not.”
Rho’uk looked questioningly at his comrade and superior, waiting for him to explain his meaning.
“We will return to Gaia,” Shu’ma continued, “when our business here is through. No sooner. Our plans for the human will continue unabated. See that he is prepared for transport to the Trill’s arena.”
Rho’uk actually found himself stunned into silence, taking a moment to collect his thoughts before finally replying. “What of the Overseer’s command?”
“My father does not fully understand the situation. I will handle him. Concern yourself with my command.”
Rho’uk kept his eyes on Shu’ma. He was planning to go against his father’s command, and the Gods themselves, to satisfy his own thirst for blood. He had to convince him otherwise. To see the folly of such action. “What you are considering is dangerous, Shu’ma. You must know this. We cannot disobey our Overseer. If the human is killed-”
“If the human is killed,” Shu’ma interrupted, “it will be the unfortunate result of his attempted escape. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Rho’uk answered, surprised and disappointed in his long time friend. “I do. I understand that you are being led by your desire for vengeance before the mandate given to us by the Gods.”
Shu’ma glare was deadly. “It would be wise to stay your tongue, Rho’uk. Should it continue to utter such offenses, I would see it removed.”
“Shu’ma,” Rho’uk began, speaking calmly in the face of the threat, with genuine concern for his long time friend. “I speak not to offend. We have always been comrades. You are my warrior brother, and I am your first. It is my place to remind you of your foremost duty.”
“It is your place to follow my commands. You are subordinate to me. Do not forget that.”
Rho’uk stiffened, his pleas for reason obviously falling on deaf ears. “I would not forget it. I understand my place . . . and will follow whatever command you give.”
Shu’ma stepped closer to him so that his face was nearly touching his own. “It has been given. Follow it.” He then stepped away and strode from the chamber, leaving Rho’uk completely alone.
Looking around the room, Rho’uk found himself searching its walls for answers. Answers to many questions which seemed to continue to mount, plaguing him, clouding his mind with indecision. His duty was to his Overseer and the Gods, who had served him with a mandate. One that he was now being asked to ignore in exchange for one warrior’s personal agenda. The answer to his dilemma seemed, on the surface, to be a simple one, except that he had a duty to that warrior as well. To go against Shu’ma, in the service of his Gods and Overseer, would be to betray his superior and friend. A friend that was purposely going against the command of their Overseer.
There seemed to be no simple answer to his dilemma. Either choice, betraying Shu’ma or breaking their mandate, would bring him dishonor. He wished the Gods would speak to him. Steer him towards the proper course. But that was not their way. They spoke to only a chosen few, and he had to trust in those few that what they spoke was Their true will. Or did he? He shook his head at himself.
One thing, and perhaps the only thing, Rho’uk did know was that these walls would not provide him with any answers. He would have to find them himself. He would have to make this decision on his own. In that realization, his choice was made. He would follow the warrior code, instilled in him by his father. He would follow the command of his superior. He would follow Shu’ma.
He could only hope that his friend would come to his senses before dooming them both.
* * *
Elora had been so relieved when he was returned to their containment cell, Jarred had decided not to broach the subject of the Trill and Shu’ma’s plans for him in the entertainment arena. At least not yet. She had been putting up a good front, but he knew that beneath it, she was afraid. Most likely, the only thing keeping her from succumbing to those fears was that she wasn’t on her own in here.
He could understand that. He supposed nobody wanted to die alone. Unfortunately, he would soon be taken away again, and there was a very good possibility he would not be coming back. If and when he fell, she would be left alone, and Shu’ma’s focus would fall on her. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He had no idea how, but he had to come up with some way of getting her, if not both of them, clear of all this.
Shu’ma was the key. The warrior was driven by his obvious hatred for Jarred, in all of his unworthiness, and that was something he had to turn to his own advantage. Shu’ma seemed more concerned with proving himself superior than learning of Orna’s whereabouts. Pride. That was his weakness. Knowing that wasn’t much help though without a means to exploit it. How could he use it to save Elora? He had to think and fast. Time was running out.
“Jarred?” Elora spoke from beside him. Her face conveyed the concern she was no doubt feeling, though he could also tell that it was not directed inwards for herself, but towards him. “What’s wrong?”
“Besides the obvious?” he answered, glancing around their cell.
“Come on,” she pressed. “You’ve hardly spoken since the guards brought you back. You haven’t even told me where they took you or what they wanted. Why are you keeping it from me?”
Jarred shook his head. “I’m not keeping it from you.” That was exactly what he was doing. “I’m just . . . thinking.” A partial truth.
“Well, if you think any harder,” she returned, “you’re going to burn two holes in that wall you’ve been staring into. What are you mulling over in that head of yours? An escape plan? Tell me. Maybe I can help.”
Jarred only wished it was that. He may have actually considered the idea if he were alone. But he wasn’t, and he couldn’t put Elora’s life at any more risk than it already was. He shouldn’t have allowed her to come at all. She had insisted on it, but he could have easily restrained or tranq'd her to ensure she stayed in place. He knew that was exactly what he would have had to do to keep her on the ship. A part of him knew that she needed to be here. She needed to help her brother, whatever the risk. Whatever the cost. He supposed that was why he hadn’t stood in her way.
She wasn’t some helpless girl. She and her brother had suffered through the loss of both parents and had persevered, pressing forward on their own as refugees for years. That took strength. They were survivors. She had come this far
and deserved his honesty.
“I am working on a plan,” he began, hesitating only briefly over his own wording. “It’s a work in progress . . . and I will need your help with it.”
“Alright,” she answered, shuffling a bit closer to him.
Jarred took a breath. “Soon . . .” he began, “. . . the guards are going to come and take me away again.” Elora tensed immediately with the revelation, but Jarred continued. “You’re going to be left alone in here and I don’t know if I’ll be coming back.”
“Where are they taking you?” she asked, obviously trying to keep herself calm and steady, though she seemed on the brink of panic.
“That’s not important. What is important is that you keep your head once I’m gone. Stay focused and alert. When an opportunity comes for you to get away, you need to be ready to take it.”
“What about you?”
Jarred shook his head. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll take care of myself. I need you to stay focused on getting out and back to your brother. Can you do that?”
Elora nodded, obviously a bit confused and uneasy. He wished he could put her mind at ease somehow, but there was little he could do or say that would accomplish that. He reached out a hand to touch her face, trying to convey as much reassurance through his gaze as possible. Her eyes came up to meet his and he found himself lost in their depths. He wanted to kiss her again, but resisted the urge. The last thing she needed right now was for him to make some kind of intimate attempt on her.
She appeared to notice his hesitation and answered it by leaning in towards him. He matched her movement, eager to feel the sensation of her lips on his again and the electric energy that flowed between them whenever they touched.
She halted just short of making contact, the sudden widening of her eyes over his shoulder telling him that they had run out of time. Her eyes came back to his, panicked, as he heard the continuous hum of the barrier field disengage behind him. He kept his gaze on her.
“Jarred,” she said, her mouth remaining open as though trying to speak words she could not find.
“It will be alright,” he promised, taking her face in both hands. “Remember what I told you.” She nodded, but he did not let go of her. “I want to thank you.” Her eyes narrowed in confusion at the remark he had blurted out without having intended to. It made the words no less true though. “For opening my eyes.”
He felt two pairs of strong hands grip both of his arms and pull him away from her. His eyes remained on her though, burning the image of her standing there into his mind, until she finally disappeared from his view. It would be a reminder to him of what was at stake when he stood before his captors in the arena, or the last thing he saw before he fell.
* * *
The last several hours had provided Ethan, Mac and Tarik ample time to explore and map out a good deal of the secure areas of the waste facility’s two lower holding levels. If they were going to succeed in any kind of rescue attempt, knowing the facility floor to ceiling would be a vital part of whatever plan Ethan still hoped to come up with.
Finding where Jarred and Elora were being kept was, of course, only the first step. Making their way out of this place afterward would be challenging, he could be sure, but that was where Jarred would come in. He was good at that kind of thing and once Ethan managed to find and free him, he would be able to lead them all out of here. At least, that was what he was counting on. Unfortunately, they hadn’t had much success in that first critical step.
For all their searching, they had found no sign of them. It was possible that they had been taken from the facility. If that were true, it would mean that they were wasting their time crawling around in these tunnels, as Mac continued to suggest. It would also mean that they stood almost no chance at all of ever finding them. That was something Ethan couldn’t accept. Not yet. Not when he felt so strongly that they were here. His instincts told him to stay, to continue searching. They hadn’t given up on him.
“We’re going in circles,” Mac complained from behind him, as they moved over a familiar corridor, visible through the grated ceiling “Why do we keep passing over this spot?”
“That’s the point,” Ethan replied, a bit annoyed. “We’ve already covered just about every corner of the holding area and haven’t seen any sign of them.”
“Exactly!” Mac exclaimed, quietly. “What does that tell you? We’ve looked everywhere and haven’t found them. They’re not here, kid. We shouldn’t be here either.”
“We haven’t been everywhere,” Ethan corrected, pointing down through the grating to the sealed hatch at the end of the corridor. “We haven’t been in there. There’s no crawlspaces or ducts that lead inside, that we’ve come across yet, and the area doesn’t even show on the plant schematics. My gut is telling me they’re in there.”
“Oh, your gut is telling you? Well, that’s a relief. Why didn’t you say so? As long as you’re certain.”
“Sarcasm noted.”
“Well, I would hope so.”
Ethan let out a sigh. “Would you just relax and be quiet. The way you’re carrying on someone is going to hear us and then we’ll really be in it.”
“Hey kid,” Mac shot back, sounding offended. “I’m the adult here. I’ll decide when it’s okay to panic and when it’s not. And as the adult, I’m making the command decision to get out of here.”
Ethan heard Tarik’s low, threatening growl and glanced back to see him bearing his teeth at Mac, who raised his hands defensively.
“Alright,” he surrendered. “We’ll stay. It was just a suggestion.”
“Quiet,” Ethan hissed, as the hatch below them actually slid open for the first time that he had been there to witness it. More to his surprise, the three troops and two security mechs that exited through it had Jarred with them. He was so stunned that he could only watch as they passed by below. Finally finding his tongue, he spoke, his voice a bare whisper.
“It’s Jarred. I knew it. I knew they were here.” He continued to watch for his sister, but no one else came through the hatch and it slid shut again. He forced himself to take in a calming breath. One thing at a time. They would follow Jarred and help him. He would know where they were keeping Elora and then they could go back for her.
Ethan looked over his shoulder at Mac and Tarik and pointed two fingers at his eyes, then down towards the passing group, finishing the hand signal by walking his fingers in the direction they were going.
“What?” Mac whispered, looking completely confused.
Ethan shook his head. He had seen enough action holos to pick up some of the basic military hand signals. Apparently Mac hadn’t watched the same holos. “Let’s follow them and watch where they take Jarred,” he replied, as quietly as possible.
“Well, why didn’t you just say that?”
Ethan rolled his eyes and put a finger to his lips to silence the conversation. He then waved both Mac and Tarik forward. They began their slow pursuit of the group, moving as quietly as possible while doing their best to stay close to them. It wasn’t easy. The bulky wiring and power conduits, while insulating a lot of the noise they made with their movements, also slowed them down considerably. They wound through a number of corridors, nearly losing the group a few times, before finally coming to a stop at the level’s one lift tube.
Once the lift arrived and Jarred was taken inside, they wouldn’t be able to follow. This would be their only chance to help him. If they were going to make some kind of move, it would have to be now.
Ethan eyed Tarik, who’s animal focus was locked on the group below. A vicious looking being, though small in stature, he would be the one doing the bulk of the attacking. Ethan wouldn’t be a lot of help in that area. Both he and Mac were unarmed and hardly a physical threat to a group of fully trained and armored soldiers, plus the two security mechs escorting them. Tarik seemed to know as much and had moved himself into a position in front of Ethan, readying himself for the coming assault by withdrawing a deadly l
ooking dagger. The sharp weapon wouldn’t do much against the mechs, but if they could take the group by surprise, and Jarred was able to get free, maybe they could overpower the troops. It was a long shot, and that was being very optimistic, but at this point they had run out of options.
Watching Jarred and the soldiers through the grating, he waited, for what he didn’t really know. The right moment, he supposed, when they became distracted. But, by what? Maybe when the lift doors opened and they made to move inside.
Tarik began to silently remove a section of ceiling grating, creating an opening for himself to drop through. Ethan kept his gaze on the group below, ready to signal him into action. His heart was racing. This could be the end for all of them.
It was then that his heart almost stopped completely, as Jarred, waiting with the group for the lift to arrive, inexplicably glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes immediately finding Ethan through the open grating. Their eyes met for only a moment and then Jarred casually looked back towards the lift doors. Ethan had to force himself to breath again. Had he known they were following him this whole time? Or had it just been chance that he’d spotted them now?
Ethan noticed Jarred move, just slightly, and his eyes tracked down to the source of the movement. His hand. His hands both bound behind his back, he was splaying one out, attempting to give Ethan some kind of signal. But what was he trying to tell him? The hand made a slight waving motion and then closed into a fist, one finger pointing back down the corridor.
Ethan was actually stunned. Was Jarred waving them off? Telling him to wait? To not do anything? No, that wasn’t what he was saying. He was telling Ethan to let him go, to remain where he was and return the way they had come. But why?
Elora. That had to be it. He held his hand up to Tarik to keep him from dropping through the opening. Jarred wanted them to leave him and go back for Elora. He would know, better than any of them, how slim their chances were of fighting off the half dozen guards around him. They would most certainly have been captured or killed. Instead, he wanted them to do what they could for his sister. Maybe he was devising a plan for his own escape. Ethan could only hope for as much.