Then she gave up. She let herself be dragged out of the courtroom, the sounds of the angry taunting voices fading as the door slammed behind her and she went back down the gray hall. When they pushed her through the door of her cell, they didn't release her arms or remove her gag, and she sank to the floor and sobbed.
They finally released her arms and removed the gag the next time they took her to the bathroom. She was stiff and sore and her legs hurt terribly from the blow to the back of her knees. She didn't resist, and she didn't talk. She ignored the food that came through the slot at the bottom of the door, and it piled up.
Four uneaten meals later, while she was sleeping, the door opened. A soldier entered and ordered her to stand up. She pushed herself to her trembling feet.
"Please," she whispered, all courage leaving her. "Please don't do this. I don't want to die. Please."
He ignored the entreaty as he spun her around and secured her hands behind her back. He grabbed one elbow and another soldier grabbed the other, and since her legs didn't seem to be working so well, they half-carried and half-dragged her out the door. They passed the other doors, and they passed the bathroom, and at last they reached door at the end of the hall. They waited there for a moment, before a click released the lock, and when they opened it what she saw left her unable to support herself even minimally.
Spread out in front of her, on a large grassy expanse that sloped down and away from the building, were thousands of slaves. Women. So silent the birds could be heard in the thick trees three hundred meters away. Lydia could see the reflection of tears on many faces caught by the morning sun. Ringing the crowd on the outside was a line of armed men.
And in between Lydia and the gathered women was a wooden platform, set so that it projected out over the ground as it fell away. There was an upright post and a beam that stood out from that post, and hanging from it was a noose.
Her stomach rose up and she fought to keep it and her rapidly rising panic pushed down. She had something she wanted to do, something she wanted to say, just once, before they shut her up forever, and she needed to keep control long enough to do that.
She scanned the crowd, knowing she wouldn't see James, and yet desperately hoping, somehow, that she would.
"Looking for your former master?" The sarcastic voice of one of the guards in her ear startled her. They had never spoken before. "Don't bother. He must have had some powerful friends because we arrested him too, but had to let him go right away. He left the planet immediately."
James was gone. She was relieved he was safe, though her heart ached to know she would never see him again.
Someone from behind gave her a shove, causing her to stumble in the grip of the guards. Somehow she made the walk from the door to the platform, and then she was standing there in the sunlight, turning to feel the warmth on her face for the first time in days. She winced as she felt the silver collar around her neck being removed for only the second time in her life.
But she had something she wanted to say and this might be her only chance. Steeling herself for the physical blow that would probably come immediately after, she opened her mouth and shouted.
"Women of Midros! You don't have to be slaves! I am not a slave!"
The blow to the back of her legs was much harder this time than it had been in the courtroom and she screamed as she fell onto the platform, hitting her head hard on the wood. She lay there, stunned, wondering idly after a moment why it was taking them so long to gag her. She heard urgent voices, and then the thick leather gag was finally forced between her teeth. She was hauled to her feet but her legs could no longer support her and she screamed in pain, sagging in the grip of the two soldiers. There was a pause and more urgent voices, some coming over the communicators attached to their belts.
A blindfold went over her eyes, and then she felt the scratch of rope around her neck. Panic overtook her at last and she screeched and struggled and fought. She was dimly aware of a great noise coming closer and the sound of feminine screams of fear. The soldier holding her on the left finally reacted.
"What the fuck is that?"
The screams from the women rose in volume as the sound of gunfire erupted. The arms that gripped hers abruptly let go and she fell to the floor of the platform, only to be caught by the noose around her neck. She tried to get her feet to push her back up but she couldn't support her weight and with her hands still bound behind her back she hung, choking and gasping, as the sound of gunfire grew closer. Her mind grew clouded and the sounds faded away.
James! James! I'm sorry I didn't stay alive long enough for you to find me. I'm sorry–
Her body was swept up into the air. The rope lost its grip and survival instinct made her draw a great heaving gasp of air. The gag was pried from between her lips and the blindfold was slipped off, and suddenly the sunlight in her eyes was too bright so she buried her head in the broad chest she was cradled against.
"James! I knew you'd come!" she rasped, unable to say more.
"No, not James," a much deeper voice chuckled, "though he'll be here in a moment. I'm afraid I'll have to do."
She raised her head and forced her eyes open. An unfamiliar man held her close, his deep blue eyes twinkling as they assessed her.
"Hello, Lydia. Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Captain Matias Acoff, of the Deminos Home Guard."
She stared at him in shock, the memory of her father's face echoed in the face of the young man in front of her. Before she could open her mouth to reply, a shout drew her head to the side.
James was tearing out the door of the prison at a run. She cried out and tried to get down from the big man's arms, but he wouldn't let her go.
"No, Lydia, you're injured. Stay still."
James arrived and she threw her arms around him as he lifted her from the Captain. The pain in her legs was fierce but she ignored it as she buried her head in his chest, repeating his name over and over. He carried her off the platform onto the grass and settled down gently, never releasing her. He rocked her back and forth as she cried and shook and clung to him.
"I thought you'd left to get away safe and I was glad but you came back for me I can't believe you're here and I'm safe and not dead..." It all came out in a hoarse rush as she tried to understand what was happening. He held her close and at last, she lifted her head up.
"How did...? What...?" She cleared her throat and tried again but it was all scratchy.
He shifted and she cried out with pain.
"Shit. What did they do to you, Lydia?"
She forced the words out. "I told everyone I wasn't a slave. Hit me behind my knees."
He muttered a curse and moved her carefully to the grass where she lay back and looked up at the sky, idly noticing that there were clouds moving in from the horizon that looked dark. She wondered if they would have made all the women sit in the rain to watch her execution. Would they have left her body hanging in the rain?
James moved a leg and she screeched, but the sound came out garbled. Why was her voice getting worse, not better? She needed to sit up. Lying down made it hard to breathe. She struggled onto her elbows as James ran his hands up and down one leg. Though the pain seared though her she no longer had the air to make a noise over it.
James looked up at her. "Lydia?"
She shook her head. She had no air to talk to him. She struggled for a breath and all she knew was a rushing wind and her head hurt and James' concerned face was the center of a circle of black that suddenly appeared in her vision–-
The Past is Not Dead
She floated in the air, looking down on the little girl playing the piano. Her mother sat next to her, guiding her through the new song and showing her where to put the fingers. The girl was frustrated, but suddenly she got the fingering right and the notes rang out clear and strong and her mother clapped her hands and cheered... And behind it all was the steady beat of the metronome she used to keep the rhythm – tick tock tick tock tick tock tick beep, tick beep, b
eep tock beep tock beep beep beep beep –
She still felt like she was floating, but now she knew she was in a hospital bed. She listened to the sounds around her and heard the unmistakable rhythm of a heart monitor. She wondered whose heart she was listening to. The only other noise was the quiet breathing of someone next to her. Was it James?
She turned her head to the left and forced her eyes open. It wasn't James – it was the man who had saved her from the hanging.
Her brother?
She felt a squeeze of her right hand and turned her head that way. James sat beside the bed on the right, his face creased with fatigue and worry. At her look, he smiled. "Hi."
"H–" Her throat closed before she could get the simple word out.
He shook his head. "No talking for a day. Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere."
She tried to push some strands of hair off her face, but her hand wouldn't obey her mind and she almost slapped herself in the face. James grabbed the flailing extremity and guided it back to the bed.
"Let me." He moved the offending hair off her face. "It's going to be a day or so before you're back to normal. Your throat swelled up in kind of a delayed reaction to the rope tightening –" He stopped and took a breath, clearly having difficulty talking about her near-death. "Anyhow, apparently the hour right after, um, something like that, is just as dangerous if there's no medical help around. So you were without air twice, for long enough to affect your brain. They think you hit your head on something, too, because there's a large bruise over your left ear. That's why you're uncoordinated right now. They're going to keep you sleepy for the rest of the day while you get treatment for it, and you should feel a whole lot better by tomorrow. Your legs, too. They were both broken but should be almost knitted back together by then, but it's painful, so it's better just to sleep through it."
She nodded while she replayed his conversation in her mind and struggled to digest what he was saying. He was right; her mind was like a fog right now. She let herself slip away.
The next morning, she woke with her mind surprisingly clear. Her brother was still sitting next to her, but staring out the window, and he hadn't noticed her. She took the opportunity to look at him. He looked so much like the memory of her father, and yet still like the little boy she could now see clearly in her mind.
"Are you really Matias?"
He spun around at her soft and scratchy voice.
"Yes," he smiled, "I really am. And I've been looking for you for years."
"But how did you know where I was?"
She saw James come back in the room with two cups of steaming cassa, one of which he handed to Matias. He leaned over to kiss her before sitting down.
"Welcome back." His voice was tender as he smiled at her and brushed some hair out of her face.
"She wanted to know how you found me," Matias said.
James picked up her hand and held it tight. "I left right after you were arrested, and it was the hardest thing I've ever done. But I knew I needed help. Remember Mareen and Dobas? She works for a ministry on her home world that has close ties to the government on Deminos. I didn't know that at first, but they were the only people I could think of to call for help. She contacted the Deminian government, who was more than interested in what I had to tell them. Lydia, they knew that girls had disappeared during the war sixteen years ago. They had no idea where they'd gone. And the story is repeated on dozens of planets over the last fifty or so years, anywhere there's been war. The Deminian government and other planetary governments have been working together for years following leads but nothing panned out. Until now. And there was one person who was more interested in your identity than anyone else."
She turned to her brother and smiled.
"And when that government heard what I had to say,” James continued, “they didn't bother asking for 'indisputable proof'. They knew right away this was the lead they’d been waiting for. They called up every single active duty home guard, commandeered several large passenger liners, and have basically invaded Midros. At least the city, here.” He laughed. “Apparently it was incredibly easy. Midros hires mercenaries for protection, because few of its citizens want to dirty their hands with soldiering. And mercenaries tend to work for whoever pays the best. Deminos felt this was a good reason to dip into reserve funds, and sure enough, the Midrosian security forces pretty much rolled out the red carpet for them when they arrived. And the Deminians brought something very valuable with them – identity machines. They’re brand new, something invented in hopes it would help find the missing girls. We're able to tell who was born on Midros and who was not, and every woman on Midros is going to be scanned in the next weeks. We've already found thirty-two Deminian women, and 144 others not from Midros."
"What about the women who were born here? Will they stay slaves?"
"I hope not. Now that the BIA has their precious 'indisputable truth' I think the whole government is going to fall. It's going to take a long time for things to become equal for women here, but it's already started. The library is going to be a huge help in that direction. Deminos has stationed guards in the Archive until the contents can be evaluated and moved to a better place."
She squeezed his hand hard, then turned towards her brother. "I saw you die."
He shook his head. "Mama had her body wrapped around me. She took the full force of the blow. I remember seeing you knocked backwards and lying so still. I was trapped under Mama and probably stunned, so Mrs. Milken didn't see me when she grabbed you. A soldier from our side eventually found me and I was sent to safety. Years later I found Mrs. Milken and she told me about your disappearance, how you were physically pulled away from her and there was no trace. Many families had the same story, but things were so chaotic for years that any clues had been destroyed."
A knock on the door interrupted the conversation. To Lydia's astonishment, Bena stood in the doorway, her hands clasped nervously in front of her, her eyes cast to the floor.
"Bena?" Lydia croaked. Bena's eyes flicked up, glancing from James to Matias and back, but she made no move to enter.
"Bena, please come in," James invited.
She came in to stand at the foot of Lydia's bed, staying silent with her hands folded.
"Matias," James said, "let's take a walk." Lydia flashed him a grateful smile.
As soon as they had left, Lydia reached out a hand. Bena sprang forward into a startled Lydia's arms and Lydia held her while she shook.
"I can't believe you're okay," she whispered. "When I heard what Rillo did, I begged Master to try to do something and he did but no one would listen to him and then we were all supposed to watch you die..."
"Master tried to stop this?"
Bena nodded. "I've never seen him so upset. He roared around the house and yelled at anyone in the government he could get ahold of but no one would listen. He refused to let any of us go at first until soldiers showed up to escort us, saying we were 'guests of honor'. He came with us and tried to get close to you but the armed guards kept him out of the area the slaves were in. They escorted us right up front. Magrita threw up while we were waiting. She wasn't the only one."
"I'm so sorry." Lydia never considered what the others might have gone through.
"Don't you dare apologize!"
Lydia looked at Bena with surprise.
"Master was so angry with Rillo he fired him. He couldn't do anything else, of course, because the law says Rillo is right, but Master will do anything he can to make sure Rillo doesn't work anywhere nice ever again."
"Wow." Lydia wasn't sure she knew what to say.
"Anyhow, I asked Master to let me come see you, to see how you're doing, and he not only agreed, but he told me to tell you that if you ever want to come visit us, you are welcome as our guest."
Lydia thought about that for not more than one second. "Bena, please tell him thank you, and I am very grateful for everything he's done about Rillo and letting you come, but I never want to feel like a slav
e, ever again."
Bena nodded. "I thought that's what you might say."
"Bena, what about you? Things are going to change now, a lot. I'm pretty sure you'll be able to go anywhere you want, especially if it turns out you weren't born here, too."
She shook her head. "I'm too old to start over. And I really do love Master, and he loves me. So I plan to stay right where I am." She hesitated. "I might, though, try to find my daughter."
Lydia's eyes bugged out. "You have a daughter?"
Bena nodded, her eyes misting. "She'd be about your age right now. My first master was not as kind as Master is. He didn't have a lot of money. He made no effort to keep me from getting pregnant, and when we found out it was a girl, he started hitting me and blaming me for everything. Master felt sorry for me and bought me to get away from him. I didn't start to love him until later. But I had a daughter, and they took her away when she was five. Her name was Sopha and I never saw her again..." Bena's voice trailed off.
Lydia pulled Bena into her arms.
"So what about you?" Bena asked. "Do you know what your master plans to do yet? Will you be leaving again?"
"I have no idea. Part of me wants to leave, to explore the galaxy, to see worlds where women are equal to men, to taste that life. Another part wants to stay right here and see the changes that are going to happen. Maybe even be part of them. There's something that James and I found down in the archives that's going to help with that."
"The women's library?"
Lydia stared at her in shock. "You knew about that?"
Bena shrugged. "Not for sure. It's something that's spoken of in hushed and vague terms and some women think it's just a myth. I think there was a general agreement that it needed to remain a complete secret until someday when, well, we all hoped that the stories from the old women about how things used to be might mean that someday they would be different again. It was something I had planned to tell you about in a few years, so that the knowledge might keep passing on until the time was right."
Memories of Surrender (Midrosian Chronicles Book 1) Page 19