by Nic Plume
Voices intruded into his dark oblivion and pierced his mind like daggers. Sick and nauseated, his stomach churning and burning as if acid ate through its walls, he slowly became aware of his surroundings. And with it came the pains and aches the beatings had left behind, although he could handle those much better than the chemicals eating his insides. His hope that the voices were in his imagination and would disappear again didn’t hold out.
"He picked himself the day we pulled him out of iso." The voice belonged to Tristan, the younger and less volatile of their two guards. Not too long ago, his words would have caused Taylor to pay close attention. But now, Taylor was too preoccupied with the sensory input from his nerves to puzzle through something that didn’t cause him pain.
He wasn’t sure how long he’d been lying like this, sprawled on his back, right arm flung wide, left twisted under his back. By the lack of feeling in his left arm, it had been quite a while. He vaguely remembered hearing the guards come for Tonee, Kay, and Sal, so it had been all night and at least part of the next day. At least, he hoped this was still the next day and not two or more days later—that would be unhealthy for his arm. Not that this place was healthy for any part of his body.
"How so?"
The low rumble of the second voice was vaguely familiar, but Taylor couldn’t pinpoint its owner. He was sure it didn’t belong to Tico, the reason he was in so much pain again. He couldn’t even remember what Tico had punished him for this time. Not that it mattered—Tico hadn’t needed a reason, lately.
"He was the last one up, and when we pulled him out of the lift, he jerked back so fast that Tico’s fingers got caught."
"Jerked back?"
"From the light, of course," Tristan answered. "After their time in total darkness, the light hurts their eyes. We use it to show ‘em who’s in charge. We bring ‘em up and pull ‘em into the light. They jerk back, we rough ‘em up, they get the picture, and that’s it." Tristan paused. "They all jerk back. Even his three buds did, but I’ve never seen anybody move so damn fast as he did.
"He pulled right out of my grip. Tico had him by the collar. His hand got caught in it, and it pulled him right off his feet. Tico was so pissed, he didn’t even realize his fingers were broken until after he had beaten him into a bloody pulp."
"Did he fight back?"
A picture finally rose to Taylor’s mind. Rumpled uniform, olive skin, light colored hair—a rough-looking man who was so much more than he pretended to be: Juvak.
Juvak followed Tristan into the cellblock. With its retractable bars forming only two cells, it looked mostly empty. The larger cell, in the room’s front right corner, was unoccupied and open. The smaller one in the far-left corner was not.
"That would’ve been the day." Tristan snorted. "I don’t think he would’ve survived if he had."
"You’d be surprised."
"No, I’m telling you, Tico would’ve killed him, no matter what you, the Boss, or anybody else would’ve said or done. I’ve never seen him so pissed. I could barely stop him. By the time I did, he couldn’t move. After I cleaned him up, I had to help him to the cell." Tristan looked at the empty cell. "His three friends were all over him. You should’ve seen it. The big guy even cradled him in his arms like a baby." Tristan shook his head with a snort. "That’s what decided it. That, and the fact that he was already injured. It would’ve been stupid to pick one of the others and then have two workers out."
He looked back at Juvak, who had stopped to look at the chains hanging from the ceiling and followed his gaze to the dark stains below, but didn’t offer an explanation. When Juvak continued to walk, Tristan stepped back—a little too fast—keeping his distance at two arm lengths.
Juvak ignored him.
"So, Tico is still holding a grudge." Juvak approached the small cell and studied Taylor.
"Tico’s got a grudge all right, and a big one at that. He wants to break him so badly, I can taste it."
"He won’t."
"I wouldn’t be so sure." Tristan shook his head and walked to the control panel by the door.
"So, you let him play with drugs?"
"Not real drugs." Tristan punched the necessary keys to open the cell. "Just dryroot."
A section of cell bars, wide enough to give easy access, retracted into the floor. Tristan looked back up, but, seeing Juvak’s gaze boring into him, showed no inclination of approaching. Juvak held his gaze a moment longer, then walked into the cell.
"How much of the root did Tico give him?" Juvak asked as he leaned over Taylor.
"It wasn’t just the root." Tristan inched forward but stopped a few paces from the cell. "It was a mix, of all three parts of the plant." His words quickened when Juvak’s back stiffened, "The flower’s healing properties neutralize the stem’s poison. Together they enhance the root’s psychedelic effect, that’s all. It’s just a new twist on an old drug."
"A new twist that increases the potency of the drug and the possibility of killing a first-time user."
"Not locals. They just have a bad ride."
"Just because he’s lived here before doesn’t mean his body is still used to the local flavors."
Tristan flinched at Juvak’s sharp words and raised his hands as if ready to ward off a blow, but Juvak ignored him. Instead, he leaned closer to Taylor’s face.
"Not today, kid," he whispered. "Too many people have given their lives for you to give up now."
He straightened, pulled out a med scanner, and scanned Taylor from head to toe. After reading the data, he put the scanner away again and rolled Taylor onto his side.
"Hold him."
Following Juvak’s instructions, Tristan knelt and held Taylor from behind, keeping his upper body leaning over the floor.
"What are you doing?"
Standing in a half crouch, Juvak grabbed Taylor by the jaw, jammed his forefinger and thumb into his cheeks, and forced his mouth open.
"Emptying his stomach," Juvak answered as he shoved his fingers into Taylor’s mouth.
Limp and unresponsive until now, Taylor’s eyes flew open, his knee shot into Juvak’s side, and he grabbed for Juvak’s wrists, almost breaking Tristan’s hold in the process. Juvak took the blow with a grunt, tightened his grip, and shoved his fingers deeper. Taylor gagged. Juvak held him a moment longer before releasing him and stepping out of the way of Taylor’s stomach contents splashing onto the floor.
As soon as Taylor stopped heaving, Juvak grabbed his face again and repeated the procedure. He continued until Taylor vomited only bile.
"I think he’s done," Tristan said as he held Taylor’s trembling body over the latest puddle.
Taylor’s last few heaves had come up dry, a good indication that this round was over. Preparing for a new round, Tristan tightened his grip and was astounded to feel the other man’s muscles tense again. It wasn’t much and would’ve been laughable had they not known how depleted Taylor’s strength had already been when they’d started half an hour ago.
"Can we stop now? His stomach is obviously empty, been empty for a while now."
Juvak smiled. "Why? Don’t you enjoy this?"
"No." Tristan looked at Taylor before meeting Juvak’s gaze again. "I commed you to save his life."
"No," Juvak scoffed, "you commed me because you were afraid of what might happen to you if he died." Tristan averted his gaze as Juvak paused. "You were fine with whatever Tico did, as long as it didn’t affect your health or your paycheck." Juvak’s voice cooled multiple decrees "And as soon as it looked like it might, you came running."
Tristan’s head snapped up, "As you said, the drugs could’ve killed him."
"That’s debatable," Juvak shrugged and pushed off the cell bars he’d been leaning against. "Pull him back."
He motioned with his hand until Tristan had pulled Taylor multiple arms’ length from the mess on the floor.
Tristan started to lay Taylor onto the floor, but seeing Juvak shake his head, pulled him into a sitting position against
his knee. Juvak forced Taylor’s mouth open again and jammed a thumbnail-sized pellet down his throat. Taylor struggled and tried to spit it out, but Juvak leaned on him and clamped his mouth and nose shut.
"Swallow if you want to breathe," he whispered as he stared into Taylor’s widening eyes. Taylor made a couple more, feeble attempts to get free, but to no avail.
When he was sure Taylor had swallowed it, Juvak released his grip and met Tristan’s gaze.
"Go clean up."
Juvak took Taylor’s limp form from Tristan and motioned with his head at the mess on the floor. Tristan nodded and stood.
Juvak propped Taylor against the wall and pulled the water bucket over.
"Your mother would be very disappointed to see you give up like that." He pulled a vial out of his pocket and added its contents to the water, stirring it in with a finger. "She trained you better than that." He filled the cup floating in the water and lifted it to Taylor’s mouth, slowly feeding him the water a sip at a time. "We all did."
Taylor grabbed the cup with both hands to stop its progression and looked at him, brows furrowed.
Juvak studied him for a moment, then refilled the cup.
"Drink. It’ll help you get stronger."
Taylor grabbed the cup again but didn’t stop its movement.
"You really don’t remember me, do you?" It was a musing more than a question. "Maybe it’s better that way."
After Taylor had emptied the second cup, Juvak dropped it back into the bucket and turned to Tristan.
"He needs to stay warm. Turn on the heat in the corner."
Tristan looked at him in surprise. "There’s no… " he started to argue, but stopped. Shoulders slumped, he walked to the smaller of the two doors and entered the cellblock’s control room.
Juvak turned back to Taylor. "It’s almost over. Draw on your training, and your instinct, and you’ll get through this without a problem." He paused. "And remember, if you don’t make it, neither will your friends. You’re the only reason they’re still alive."
A whistling of air drew his attention to the corner of the cell. He stood and walked over. Feeling the floor with one hand, he used the other to signal Tristan. The whistle quieted. Satisfied, Juvak came back and helped Taylor move into the corner. Warm air flowed out of the gaps around the bars sunk into the floor, warming an area that was barely large enough to curl up in. Juvak set the bucket of water next to him and then walked out. Tristan joined him at the door. Within moments, Taylor was alone again.
Taylor didn’t know what to make of Juvak. The man had captured them, then sold them as forced labor, and now he pretended to be his benefactor. His surprise that Taylor didn’t recognize him had seemed genuine, and he hadn’t been talking about their encounters since the crash. Tristan’s fear of him had also been genuine. Juvak hadn’t threatened him, verbally or physically, yet Tristan had flinched from him. It was a side of Tristan that Taylor had never seen before. He wondered if Juvak had the same effect on Tico.
The burning in his stomach subsided and the fog in his head lifted. He considered Juvak’s and Tristan’s words about the drug and his locality. It made no sense. He wasn’t from here, had never lived or visited here—at least, not that he remembered. His mom’s job had moved them to a new location every few months, and being spaceborn, he didn’t consider any one place home or himself a native of a specific planet. And how would Juvak know, anyway? A bluff then, to hide that he and his team were Intergal? That would explain why they hadn’t been handed over to the Traverse, but to what purpose?
And Juvak’s promise of freedom?
Taylor had sensed, and believed, its sincerity and from the fear the man had generated in Tristan, he likely had the power to fulfill his promise. They needed to lay low and keep the guards off his back, so he could heal and regain the strength Juvak had hinted he would soon need.
But how could he explain this to his teammates? Throughout their training, he had oftentimes seen their confusion and inability to understand the reasons for his actions, but they had come to trust his hunches. Lately, though, their trust had been overshadowed with concern about his mental and physical health.
Juvak was the enemy. Anything he said to dispute that now would bring up those doubts. And neither Din would be able to verify that he wasn’t suffering a mental breakdown.
He owed them an explanation, one he couldn’t give at this distance without giving himself away to the guards. As the warm air and his exhaustion pulled him into sleep, he resolved to give the guards what they wanted. It would devastate his teammates, but he would finally be able to get them out of this hellhole. He fell asleep, amazed how nice it felt to not be chilled. He knew that with time, he’d recover.
13
Freedom
A low rumble in the distance startled Tonee awake before dawn. At least, he thought it was before dawn. Kept inside the cellblock or underground, he hadn’t been outside since their squad’s ship had crashed and only assumed their work shift started in the morning.
Kaydeen and Salayla had moved closer to him sometime during the night and were using his arm and shoulder as pillows. Less than a year ago, he would’ve been ecstatic to wake with two girls in his arms. Now, he wondered how long it would take to get circulation back as he carefully untangled himself and stood.
He massaged his shoulders as he moved to the metal bars separating them from the rest of the dimly lit cellblock. Even the dark couldn’t hide the bleakness of his surroundings. Gray on gray—the bars, walls, ceiling, floor, and door—everything was made of the same material and color. The only thing breaking up the monotony were the retractable bars outlining the two cells and the circular seams hinting at hundreds of bars still sunk into the floor, able to raise and lower at the guard’s whim to adjust the cell block’s layout or to torture its captives.
It took him only a moment to locate Taylor. As had become the norm, he was lying curled up facing the far corner of his cell. Tonee didn’t try to rouse him. He knew Taylor wouldn’t respond. He hadn’t responded ever since the guards had pulled him and Kaydeen out of their cells one night. When the guards had returned them, hours later, Taylor hadn’t been able to walk. Dumped into his cell, he lay where he’d fallen.
Kaydeen had been quiet and withdrawn. Staring at Taylor, she had refused to talk about what had happened, and had refused to let Salayla Read her. After a while, they’d finally been able to get her to lie down and fall asleep in Salayla’s arms.
Kaydeen had felt better the next morning, though she still refused to say what happened. Taylor, on the other hand, had been the same as the night before. At first, Tonee had thought that Taylor might be in too much pain to move—or possibly unconscious—and was glad when the guards had left him alone, hoping a full day’s rest would help him recover. His hopes were dashed when Taylor had remained unresponsive that evening, and even more so when he’d ignored the guards’ arrival the following morning.
It had been the same ever since. Curled into his corner when left alone, Taylor only moved when the guards ordered him to. Every so often, they had been able to elicit a reaction, gotten Taylor to drink water, but even then, it had taken repeated barked orders, and Taylor never acknowledged them, only crawled to the bucket and took a few sips of water. But lately, not even that had worked.
Tonee lowered his head against the bars and closed his eyes. He didn’t want to consider what Taylor’s behavior signified.
Taylor had been their rock, had held steadfast in his belief that Intergal would return and they would get out, had refused to let them give up hope, and now…
Another rumble interrupted Tonee’s thoughts. It sent a shiver down his spine and his heart on a beating frenzy as if trying to jump out of his chest.
Suddenly, he was nine again. Standing with Grammy at the window, gazing at the city center with its high-rises all lit up and sparkling their nightly light show as lights in offices and condos turned on and off. Playing their bedtime game of finding as many
shapes as possible in the continuously changing light combinations and wondering what the strange distant rumble was that sounded so much like thunder but totally different. Seeing Grammy’s hand go to her mouth and her eyes and mouth open wide in horror when the sky suddenly lit up with bright oranges, yellows, and reds. Hearing Papaw scream to get to shelter right as part of the city center exploded into a huge fireball. He’d been in the stairwell when the house shattered with a roar, and was the only one that day who survived a direct hit in the bombardment of his grandparents’ home planet.
When the noise stopped, Tonee turned with a start. "Kaydeen, Salayla, get up." Seeing both move, he turned back. "Taylor, even if you hear me only this once, please—you need to get on your feet and out of that corner, away from the walls."
Salayla and Kaydeen came up beside him. "What do you know?"
"You hear the rumbling? Somebody’s hitting this place from above, way above." He paused to let his words sink in. "And the Traverse wouldn’t bomb a planet they’re already holding, would they? No. It’s gotta be our guys. Now, all we have to do is survive the damage they’re going to do to this place."
Salayla raised her eyebrows, "Is that all?"
A deafening roar drowned out the rest of her words. The floor shook and for a moment, Tonee envisioned ordinance hitting the mineshaft. How far would the explosion spread? To a tunnel, a level of tunnels, two levels, all levels? He didn’t know. He knew explosives, had trained in them. He knew how to take out a vehicle, a building, even collapse a tunnel, but he had no idea what the munitions designed to destroy surface installations from orbit would do to this network of mining tunnels. He didn’t even know if there were tunnels below them, or how far below they were.
Air pressure popped his ears. A new threat, a new rumble, this one more felt than heard, approached. From below. The tunnels? No, much closer. He felt the vibration. But not from the trembling ground, this was much smaller, faster. The bars. The metal bars in the floor were vibrating and hot. The heat burned through the soles of his worn boots. A blast of hot air suddenly erupted from around the bars, pushing up his legs, his body, and past his face, as if somebody had opened the door to a furnace under pressure and released a fiery hot wind, shriveling the hair on his skin.