Lydia agreed. "But why am I remembering it now?"
"Because you've left Midros. Remember, kids who left Midros had to take the paeolin oxide, but kids who stayed didn't. We still don't know why."
She twisted around to stare up at him. "The paeolin dust in the air?" she whispered. "We breathe it every single day of our lives. Could our bodies convert it to paeolin oxide?"
"We thought of the paeolin in the air, but the concentration isn't high enough."
"But it isn't just in the air. It's in everything. Our food, and our water, too."
James nodded. "That's the theory I have, but I'd need to do some research to see if that's true."
"And that's why some slaves who've left the planet have nightmares," she guessed. "Some were born on Midros, so they have few bad memories. But the ones that weren't — they're remembering when they were kidnapped, but they were so young the memories were probably not well formed. I was older. I remember everything..." Her eyes filled with tears and James held her tight.
Dammit! She just found out she had a family, and she'd lost them all over again. It was so not fair! "I had a mother, and a younger brother named Matias, and a father... and my father was killed the day before we left home. We were trying to reach my aunt's house; it was in a safe zone, but the fighting caught up to us. But it wasn't just the enemy who was trying to find us, it was the Orphan Hunters."
"That is an unbelievable violation of law on every planet." He shook his head slowly and she could see the disbelief in his eyes. She was sure it mirrored that in her own.
"Lydia, do you remember what planet you're from?"
She stared into the distance, sorting through the waves of memories that flooded her mind. Then she nodded. "Deminos. We lived in Arbor City." Her voice cracked. "And my name is Lydia Acoff.
Bureaucracy
"Mr. Morel, I'm sorry, but the BIA doesn't get involved in local issues." The woman on the other end of the vid screen hadn't spared them more than a glance since they connected. She found the paper she was looking for on her desk and handed it to someone off screen.
James was incredulous. "This is not local! These women have been kidnapped from other planets as children and enslaved on Midros! That's a violation of interstellar law!"
"And who is bringing this accusation?" She finally looked straight at them.
Lydia stepped into view of the screen. Her face was pale and drawn; despite knowing the dreams were memories, the scenes of her life continued to roll through her mind and interrupt her sleep.
"I am. My name is Lydia Acoff."
"And what's your current planet of residence?"
Lydia looked at James. "We're in the process of moving from Midros to Prima."
"Did you live on Midros?"
"Well, yes–"
"Then you're a slave."
Lydia glanced at James and smiled. "No, not any–"
"Do you have manumission papers from your government?"
"What? No, James - Mr. Morel – said I was free–"
"Leaving Midros does not make you free. Per the Midrosian Treaty of 2274 only slaves officially released by the government on Midros and given manumission documents are free. You have very limited legal rights, even off the planet."
James stepped back to the screen. "What the hell are you talking about? Slavery isn't recognized anywhere any more, except on Midros!"
"And any slave from that planet. Mr. Morel, I'm sorry you don't know the law, but you can't just say she's free. You have to go back to Midros and get them to grant her release."
"What if I refuse to be her master?"
"You can do whatever you want, but if you are the owner of record, she'll be unable to get a job, or purchase anything of significance, without your written permission. Any monies in her possession belong to you. She cannot go to school without your permission. She is not permitted to live by herself. In short, she is essentially a non-person in the eyes of the government."
"How the fuck do they get away with that?"
The official rolled her eyes. "Look, sir, in case you haven't heard, Midros exports something called paeolate. Ever heard of it? I'm sure you have. Without it, everything would be twice as expensive and half as nice. And it's only mined on one planet. They can demand pretty much anything they want and every company and government almost falls over themselves giving it to them, including the ability to control the rights of their slaves off-planet. So I'm afraid you are stuck seeking their permission to get her freedom."
"Will they do it?"
"Never seen it happen, personally."
Lydia gaped at James.
"All right, but she's actually a citizen of Deminos," he argued. "They kidnapped her. She's not actually from Midros. So she's not really a slave, right?"
"If you have proof she's a citizen from Deminos, taken against her will to Midros, yes, she would be free. Do you have proof?"
"Well, I remember when they took me–" Lydia began.
"Sorry. Not enough for the BIA to take action. You have to understand how powerful Midros is. Slaves aren't allowed to accuse masters of illegal activities unless they hold indisputable proof. If it's just your word against theirs, we won't touch it. Do you have proof of this supposed organized effort to kidnap girls?"
"No." Lydia's whisper oozed defeat.
"Then I'm sorry but the BIA can't help you. Good day." The screen went dark.
James pulled Lydia into his arms. "Now we know why owners hardly ever leave Midros with their slaves. They can't free them, even if they want to."
"I'm never going to be free, either," she whispered. "Once I started thinking about it, I haven't been able to think of anything else. At least if I'm not free, you're my master, and I'm not on Midros."
"No. We'll find a way to make it happen. I swear to you." He felt her smile against his chest.
"James, what if there're more references to the Orphan Hunters in the diary? Or references to them in other places, now that we know what we're looking for?"
"Are you thinking we should go back and look?"
She nodded.
"I'm really not comfortable with that idea, sweetheart."
"Please, James. There's no reason we would have trouble going back and leaving again. It's perfectly legal and you haven't done anything wrong. I don't want to be a slave. I don't want them to get away with what they've been doing, to me, and to all the other women. Can you still get into the archive?"
"Yes," he chuckled. "In our rush to leave I forgot to give the key card back to Raym. I still have it. But maybe I should find some place to tuck you away while I go."
"No! Please! If something did happen to you, I'd be stuck someplace without anyone to help me. Besides, you need my help reading Eluiim."
She was right. Despite his misgivings, getting that information seemed the only way to stop this monstrous wrong, and he needed her help to do it.
"I'll go program in the coordinates for Midros."
"I'll put the collar back on." Her statement gave him a sick jolt in his stomach, but he nodded and headed for the pilot's seat.
Her words had been brave, but Lydia was trembling as they neared the planet she'd spent most of her life on. Freedom had been so close, and this felt a little like going back into a hornet's nest.
She asked James if he thought she'd lose her memories again when they got back to Midros, and he said he thought not, because the other slaves who'd had nightmares still had them when they returned home, and they had to be dosed with – or re-dosed with – Oblita.
It was a mixed blessing to keep her memories. New ones rolled through her head almost every waking moment. Her sleep continued to be tormented until James insisted she take the tranquilizer every night, and then at least she could let the dreams sweep over her and be able to stay more aloof, and asleep. It wasn't just visual memories. She was inundated with smells and sounds: her mother's cooking, which brought waves of tears so intense she struggled to breathe while James held her tight.
The sound of her father's laugh as she repeated a silly joke she'd learned at school. The sound of the explosions that had sent her family running into the night, caught by surprise between two armies struggling for control of the government. She'd always had an amazing memory; now it was as though every moment of the nine years she'd spent on Deminos had to be relived, in random order.
And the closer they got to Midros, the more she felt the collar constricting her throat as though it was the first day she'd worn it.
James had decided not to tell Raym they were coming back so soon. There would be questions, and James said he'd rather not have to lie to his friend, or worse yet, tell him the truth. They'd try to be in and out in less than a day, assuming there were launch openings. It was possible Raym would find out, but that was something James said he'd deal with if it happened.
They landed without incident and called an autocar to take them back to the hotel. A few minutes later they were back down in the Archives.
They retrieved the diary and brought it back out to the main table. Lydia planted herself in the chair and read as fast as she could. The entries grew sadder and sadder as they documented the subjugation of half of the population so completely over less than fifty years. There was another brief mention of the secret project with books, but Lydia forced herself to skip that section, for now.
"Nothing. Absolutely nothing else." She wished she felt free enough to use the swear words James used, but that was programming she hadn't broken yet.
"Dammit. Let's go back and see what else we can find. I wish there was some kind of catalog!"
Something wrong tickled at the back of her neck. "James, maybe we should leave and find a better way, not here."
"Are you feeling uneasy being here?"
She nodded, glad he understood. "I know this was my idea, and I don't know why I feel like this, but it just doesn't seem like the right place to be any more."
"All right. Let's go—"
The lift signal dinged, a sign that someone was coming down. Lydia stifled a shriek. For a fraction of a second they stared at each other, frozen, before James slammed the diary shut and dashed into the stacks with it, returning with another book that he flung open on the desk. Lydia slid to the floor in a kneel, and James put a hand on her shaking shoulder as he sat.
The lift opened and Raym came out. "Thank the gods! You two have to get out of here. I don't know why, but there are security forces looking all over the hotel for you two. What the fuck are you doing back here? Wait, doesn't matter, we need to get out–"
He pushed the button to the lift and the doors did not open. He hit it several times and then the familiar ding sounded. It dawned on Lydia as she scrambled to her feet that someone had called the lift back up and now they were coming down. They held their breath as they waited. There was nowhere to run.
The doors opened and the front of the room was filled with armed security, pointing weapons at them.
James pulled her close. "Gentlemen, what is the problem?"
A figure moved from behind the line of security to the front. Lydia watched in disbelief as Rillo appeared and stood silent in front of the soldiers.
One of the soldiers spoke. "Lydia, slave of James Morel, you are under arrest."
"What for?" James bellowed.
Lydia watched in horror as Rillo held up the dictionary she'd hidden in the baseboard and last seen the day before she met James.
"For the crime of reading Br'ini."
Lydia's knees buckled and James barely caught her.
"You're kidding me!" he bellowed. "Are you serious? What the hell kind of trumped-up charge is that?"
"Lydia, would you like to tell your master what this is and where you hid it?" Rillo's voice oozed sarcasm.
"It doesn't matter." James jumped in before she could speak. "She's my slave, and I'll deal with whatever issue this is, myself."
"I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Morel, but this is now a state security matter," the soldier said. "In fact, your ownership of this slave has just been terminated. She is now a prisoner of the state, and will be placed into custody for the next three days while all the legalities are sorted out."
"And then she'll be released to me?"
"No, sir. In three days she'll be executed."
I Am Not a Slave
She didn't quite faint, but she went down onto her knees so hard that James couldn't hold her. She was vaguely aware of loud shouting, of pushing and shoving, and of being hauled back to her feet. She looked around wildly for James as her hands were cuffed behind her back. He was pushed up against a wall with a rifle in his face, struggling against two large soldiers and shouting to her as she was dragged into the elevator.
"Lydia! I'm going to fix this, I promise! I love you!"
I love you too, James. Goodbye.
From there, it was a blur. A short bumpy ride in some kind of vehicle. A stumbling walk up the stairs of the security building, and a walk down a dim narrow hall. Someone stripped her clothes off. Hands probed and searched, and when they found nothing, she was given a shapeless gray tunic that fell past her knees. Another walk down a cold, bright hall. They stopped her at a heavy featureless door that swung open at the touch of a pad to the side. Hands pushed her inside, and the door slammed shut. She fell to the floor, and finally she cried.
There was nothing to mark the time with, save the delivery of something resembling food but devoid of taste or texture. The lights never dimmed. There was a pad in the corner to lie on, but no pillow or blanket. She was escorted to the bathroom every few hours in silence, her hands always cuffed, walking past other featureless doors to a dingy room with a toilet. They'd free her hands, she'd take care of business, and then she was re-cuffed and escorted back. She tried to talk once, to ask if she could see James, but a guard slapped her in the face so hard she saw stars, so she never asked again.
She wondered how she would die. The last time a slave had been executed she thought it had been a hanging. She was certain she'd be paraded before every slave in the region, and there would be long speeches about the consequences of disobedience that she would have to stand through. What if I refuse to do that? she wondered at odd times. If she decided to sit down, or just refused to stand still and listen? They might hit her. Or they might make it happen faster. That might be better, to be honest.
She wondered what life would have been like if she'd been free. Would she have gone to school? Would she have learned the things like in those books? Maybe learned advanced mathematics, like the diarist? Decided what she wanted for dinner and cooked it herself? Spent her own money on something she wanted to buy? Traveled to other planets and seen their wonders?
She screamed out her anger until her throat was raw, and she beat on the doors until her hands were bruised. She wept for the lost opportunities in her life, for the lost opportunities for all the women on Midros. And she decided she was done being a slave. No matter what they did to her, it would not be done to her as a slave. She would speak her mind as she stood before the rope noose that would take her life. She would speak the truth to all the women in the hopes that someone would hear what she said and a spark would be lit, somehow.
James. She hoped they'd let him go, that he was far away from here, safe, and maybe telling their story to anyone who would listen in the hopes that someone, somewhere, would see the monstrous injustice that had been done.
James. The only person who had ever respected her. Someday a very lucky woman would have him as a lover, and maybe a master if she chose him.
Four meals later she was removed from the room, though this time she was turned in the opposite direction from the bathroom. She tried to ask where they were going but the soldier slapped her head again and she bit down on her tongue, swallowing blood as they shoved her through doors and down halls.
Eventually they paused before a plain door in a nondescript hall, but what lay on the other side was not what she expected. They yanked on her arm and pulled her into a huge, ornate court
room. The walls were white. The floor was white marble and there were white marble columns that rose up to the ceiling. It was filled with men, their voices dropping to a hush as she was brought in.
The judge's bench was beautifully polished wood. She was brought around to the front of the bench, so high she could barely see the man himself. A guard pointed at the cushion on the floor and she almost knelt without thinking. But she didn't. She shook her head.
"Kneel, slave!" The guard was angry at her defiance.
"I will not kneel, and I am not a slave." The words were quiet, but the courtroom erupted with loud angry voices. The judge held up a hand to quiet them at the same time he nodded to the guard. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him swing something at her and suddenly her legs exploded with pain as her knees buckled. She screamed as she fell to the floor. She managed to stay on her hands and knees and not go completely down, and once she could draw a breath she looked up at the bench in front of her – now too high to see over – and in the loudest voice she could manage, yelled, "I am not a slave!"
She wasn't surprised at all when a gag was shoved between her teeth, and she didn't fight as her hands were pulled behind her and secured. She was still on her knees, her legs aching from the blow, but it didn't feel like anything was broken.
The sentencing took just a few minutes. Rillo appeared, and she shot him a glare of pure hatred that he ignored. He testified that he'd found the book while preparing the room for a new slave. And that was all it took to convict her. The mere nearness of the book to where she'd been sleeping convinced the judge she could read Br'ini, a capital offense, and she was sentenced to be hung before all the slaves within twenty miles, tomorrow morning.
She knew this was coming – she'd steeled herself to be strong – but when they hauled her to her feet she screamed through her gag and struggled in their grasp. She whipped her head around looking desperately for James but he wasn't there. She knew in her heart that he would have been there if it was humanly possible and once more hoped he was all right.
Memories of Surrender (Midrosian Chronicles Book 1) Page 18