“None of us are alone,” Shanyi murmured.
“Nor shall we ever be,” a faltering voice from below him responded.
“Nor shall we ever be,” Kia repeated, choking back the sob in her throat. “Let us give names. I’m Kia from Sestris.”
“I’m Shanyi from Sestris.”
“Chetey from Mapiri. It’s a small town in the far north.” The young man’s voice quavered.
The man below Kia grunted. “Not that Emankoran culture ever helped me or mine, but I’m Oloran, a member of the Videshi tribe.”
The Videshi were traders who wandered both continents without a permanent base and were looked down upon by many Emankorans.
“One of my father’s best friends is… was a Videshi called Vudchay.” As soon as she spoke of her father, she realized her mistake.
“Ah, the famous visionary Vudchay. Videshi or not, who hasn’t heard of him? Who was your father?”
“It doesn’t matter anymore who he was,” Kia answered, “he has departed this life.”
A tremor quivered through the ship as the engines hummed into life.
Goodbye, Emankora. I will see you again. I promise. Such a vow might be a futile gesture, but even such a small silent statement declared her defiance. She would not break; she would die rather than give herself over to them, and she would have her revenge.
Chapter Three: Slavery
The background hum of the engines ceased.
“We are entering the wormhole shortly, but be at ease, dear guests of the Nadil-Kuradi Empire, you will remember nothing.”
Kia shot a startled look at Shanyi. “That doesn’t sound good.” She’d flown on the shuttle between Sestris and Shihon, but she’d expected to spend her life on her home world. Her ambitions weren’t stellar, and her knowledge of space travel didn’t extend beyond watching the latest holovid blockbuster.
“What’s that noise?” Chetey squeaked.
They listened to a gentle hissing.
“It’s coming from the air vents.” Kia looked over at Shanyi, dismayed to see his eyes closed. She tried to call him but found her eyelids drooping, too heavy to stay open. They’ve gassed us, flashed through her mind as she fell into darkness.
Whatever chemical their captors had used to put them to sleep also affected her memory leaving her with little recall of events after they transited the wormhole. She never saw Shanyi or young Chetey again and retained a fuzzy image of prisoners being marched here and there on a gigantic space station before she passed out again on another bunk on another transport carrier. She didn’t come back to herself with some understanding of her situation until the tannoy announced the ship’s imminent arrival at their destination, Jahanamu.
Dehydrated, half-starved—she didn’t remember when she’d last eaten—and weak-kneed, she stumbled behind the prisoner in front her as they exited the shuttle into a world of unwelcoming grayness. Gray walls, gray floors, even the soldiers’ visorless faces carried a gray tint. She was too drained to take notice of much else: the maglev train down into the asteroid’s living quarters; sitting at a table cramming soup and bread into her mouth, a voice telling her to slow down or else she’d throw it all up again—advice she ignored; entering a dormitory and being pushed down onto a bed where she passed out again.
The shriek of a siren jerked her awake, and she sat up, banging her head on the metal struts of the bunk above her. Jahanamu. She remembered a voice saying, “Welcome to Hell, your new home, otherwise known as Jahanamu.”
“Showers through here, but get a move on, ’cause they turn them off after ten minutes.” An older woman, small, lean and muscled, her head covered in gray stubble, bent down and looked her over.
Kia knuckled her eyes, trying to clear the fog from her brain.
“You’ll be hung over for a while yet. That wormhole sedative takes a day or two to clear out of your system. C’mon, a shower, and clean clothes will make you feel more human. I’m Rehanya, and I’ll show you the ropes today.” She stuck out a hand.
Kia did the same, wincing as Rehanya squeezed her hand hard. On Emankora people greeted each other with folded hands and a bow, but from here on, she would have to get used to different customs. “I’m Kia.”
As she walked ahead, Rehanya explained that the segregated bunk rooms and bathrooms were in this sector and pointed out a few rooms couples used if they wanted privacy. She showed Kia where to collect a fresh overall each morning, giving her one from a pile of chem-cleaned ones that stank of cleaning fluid and were ingrained with stains.
Such considerate enslavers, Kia thought but kept her opinions to herself.
“Don’t use the bathrooms at night either. I’ll get you a piss-pot later.” Rehanya nodded at the lidded metal pot in her hand. “Rape isn’t that common, at least not as much as it used to be when they had mixed dorms, but with twice as many men as women, you don’t want to put yourself in unnecessary danger.”
Kia wasn't shocked. She had enough life experience to have learned that life wasn’t all honey and sweetness, but until the Emperor Teyrn turned his attention on her planet, she’d experienced no real hardship. She was sure making up for that gap in her education.
Rehanya was right. A two-minute tepid shower, clean overalls, and boots, even if they were too big, instead of sandals was an improvement. Breakfast, unleavened bread dipped in hot spicy slop, in a large noisy refectory crammed full of men and women eating with the voraciousness of the damned having their final meal, made her feel human again. For the first time since the invading soldiers had appeared in Sestris, there wasn’t one in sight. She assumed they kept the miners too starved to do anything other than eat, and where would they escape to, even if they overthrew their guards? She’d no doubt the soldiers and their guns might not be visible, but they’d appear like kazurkas in a swamp at the faintest whiff of trouble.
“Eat quick,” Rehanya leaned close, “because when the next—”
Kia missed the end of the sentence as a second ear-splitting shriek had everyone on their feet, grabbing pieces of bread and sticking it in their overall pockets as they headed for the exit. Copying suit, she snatched a chunk and stuffed it in her pocket as she followed Rehanya out of the eating hall. She had a lot of questions, but the empire had no interest in giving introductory courses to new members arriving at their forced labor camps. If she aimed to survive she’d have to learn as she went along. She pursed her lips and straightened her back. It wasn’t as if she had much else to do.
She stuck close to Rehanya for the short standing journey on a maglev train crammed with miners, then squeezed into an elevator that dropped them to a deeper level before disgorging them into a sizeable cavern hollowed out of the rock and illuminated by the harsh ever-present glare of artificial lighting.
“This is our section’s order point, and this guy tells us where to go. Got a fresh recruit with me today, boss, where’d you want her?”
The boss, a thin-lipped, hatchet-faced, wiry man studying his comunit, pointed over his shoulder without bothering to look up.
“Thanks, boss.”
Armed guards at the entrances to the various tunnels that dotted the cave’s sides checked off names and issued primitive pickaxes.
Rehanya stated their names for the guard, and Kia emulated the other woman, hefting the heavy tool over her shoulder, though without the same ease of movement. Kia Xefe, daughter of Head Elector, Madaxa Xefe, and winner of the most recent srilao competition in the southern continent of Emankora, was dead. However, Kia O’Afon was very much alive.
Halfway through that initial backbreaking day, Rehanya snorted when Kia asked her wouldn’t it be more efficient to use machines for mining instead of humans.
“We’re cheaper, and they squeeze as much as they can out of us while they kill us. We’re expendable, and we’re also a warning. And, as I’m sure you’ve experienced, they shoot you if we blink the wrong way.”
Kia struggled to lift her spoon and slurp her soup that night. All s
he planned to do was sleep and forget the burning ache in her arms, shoulders, and back.
The days soon fell into a bleak routine. Wake, eat, work, eat, sleep. Every dismal day was the same. She lost her sense of time as she became accustomed to working underground. The artificial glare of the lights, the ever-present dust in the air and grit in her mouth, the rise and fall of the pickax defined her existence.
Each night she would call up the dream image of her parents and the twins waving goodbye as a boat swept them away on a shining ocean. Yet, at times, she was too weary to think clearly, the images were fuzzy, and sleep would drag her under before she could say goodnight to her family.
She attempted to keep track of the days, but after a while, she couldn’t see the point. The days and nights merged into a dreary reality, a bleak, lonely landscape without any identifying features, and she drew on her hatred of the empire, her unresolved grief for her family, and consolidated it into a fierce, bitter reason to stay alive. One thought remained a constant companion—where was the resistance?
Her father had given both her and Jared strict instructions to choose the mines where others involved in the conspiracy against the emperor would head if given a choice. She’d learned of her father’s involvement in plans to undermine the empire when she was a teenager. He’d been in communication with a highly placed official within the empire’s hierarchy, but she had no idea who that could be, or if that person was able to help her escape her current predicament.
They were supposed to work in silence, but most guards allowed quiet conversations, although any outbursts of violence ended in a quick shot to the head.
Kia kept her eyes and ears tuned for a word or a sign that would alert her to anything subversive happening but heard nothing. Her muscles hardened as she adjusted to the labor. She lost weight, and no matter how much she crammed into her mouth morning and evening or how much bread she stuffed into her pockets to sustain her during the day, the gnaw of hunger’s hurtful teeth became a constant companion.
She saw little of Rehanya during work hours, but in the evening, those who had the energy, or the inclination gathered around the older woman’s bed. They talked of their homes, their loved ones, they moaned and grieved and comforted each other. There were also many too hurt or embittered or depressed to build relationships, and who withdrew into themselves. One woman lay on her bed rocking to herself and singing a lullaby. The others looked after her, but nobody had broken through the barrier she’d sealed herself behind.
Kia often sat on the edge of the circle letting their kindness wash over her, but not allowing it to dissolve the walls she’d erected. When asked about her story, she’d shake her head. She couldn’t get too close to anyone, not until she could figure out who was safe and who wasn’t, and at this point she didn’t trust anybody enough to confide in them. Her world had narrowed to the dormitory, the refectory, and whatever tunnel she was working in. She shut down and locked away parts of herself because existence was easier if she didn’t think or feel too much. The one thing that mattered was staying alive and getting revenge. Neither would be easy, especially the latter.
As she hefted her pick one morning, working on a different tunnel with a new crew, she noticed a familiar face in the group—Oloran. She remembered him as a big man, but he’d thinned, hardened, and his hair had turned gray. His expression was more dour than she recalled, and she felt the same antipathy toward him as before, despite their common circumstances.
At first, he showed no signs of recognition, but it wasn’t long before she found him working beside her. It didn’t matter how often she was last in the queue and chose a spot as far away from him as possible, or tried to move to a different part of their work area, each day he always ended up nearby. He never acknowledged her, but she realized he’d zeroed in on her. She said nothing, hoping the teams would change soon, and his oppressive presence would be gone. Their bosses constantly changed them around to prevent plots being hatched.
A few nights later, Kia lay on her bed, heavy fatigue towing her toward sleep, when Rehanya came over and sat down.
“You met this Oloran from before?”
A small alarm tripped in her mind. “We were on the same transport carrier from Sestris, but I never met him before then. Why?”
“He’s been asking if you have a protector.”
A protector was the term used for a man when a couple decided they wanted to be together and sent a message to others that the woman was taken. It wasn’t unknown for a woman to be forced to accept protection, and there were many methods for a man with a dominant nature to create difficulties for a woman who refused him.
“I sent a message you were under my protection.”
“What does that mean?” Some women had partnered with each other, as Kia knew women did on Sestris, but it wasn’t her inclination.
Rehanya laughed at Kia’s uneasy expression. “All it means is that although you don’t have the protection of a particular man, the women in this dorm will defend you.”
“Thank you.” If Kia needed friends, Rehanya would be a good start.
“You’ll see, sticking together is how we make it through.” She patted Kia’s arm. “Sleep.”
Kia drifted off, uneasy thoughts swirling as exhaustion claimed her.
She thought no more of the conversation with Rehanya, and in the following days Oloran kept his distance, yet she caught him looking at her more than once. The mixture of hostility and lust he radiated reminded her that ‘us and them’ wasn’t limited to the miners and their guards, but even among the prisoners she had to tread with caution.
She woke one night needing to pee. She groped under the bunk for her container, peering underneath where the dim orange nightlight revealed nothing and grimaced as she realized she must have left it in the bathroom that morning. Borrowing was a no-no; the one occasion somebody did that, Rehanya hadn’t stepped in to stop the fight.
She listened to the slow breathing in and out of the utterly exhausted as she tiptoed past the sleeping shadowy shapes. Pressing her hand against the palm lock, the door slid open, closing with a hiss behind her. Nobody. Don’t be silly, she admonished herself. Did she think men, or specifically Oloran, lurked all night in the passage on the off chance that some unfortunate woman had forgotten her piss-pot?
Pausing before leaving the bathroom, she concentrated. The thought of tons of rock pressing down, ready to implode, still left her unsettled. In theory, she recognized her fear was baseless. Jahanamu’s metals were too essential for running the empire’s wormhole ships for them to have made anything other than a secure investment. Losing slaves meant less than nothing—they were dead men working—but had spared no effort to maintain access to the asteroid’s core.
She slipped out, and a hard hand grabbed her arm. Before she could shake the hand off, a fist crashed into the side of her face, and she cried out as stars whirled and spun in front of her eyes. Dazed, her ears ringing with the blow, she shook her head to clear it.
“What fair game have we here?” Oloran leered. He leaned against the wall, but his grip was vicious.
“Let me go,” she gasped, her heart drumming.
“Or else you’ll what?” His breath was sour, and his eyes glazed as he pulled her closer. “Oh, not such a tough little girl now, are you?”
She could see his age-yellowed teeth, broken dentine monuments, in an animal grin, the rigid tendons standing out on his neck. She brought her free hand across in a chopping strike to his carotid.
Easily blocking her, he laughed and punched her again, harder, in the jaw.
Her head whipped sideways, and she slammed into the wall before blacking out. She came to face down on a bed with Oloran lying on top of her, his sour breath loud in her ears, his arm pushing down on the back of her neck, and her face pressed sideways into a musty-smelling rough blanket. His weight held her in place as he groped and pulled her tunic up with his other hand. She shifted, twisting her hips, attempting to buck him off,
but he stopped his fumbling, pulled his arm back and punched her in the kidneys. Intense sharp pains shot through her insides immobilizing her and stopping her breath.
“Lie still,” he growled, “before I really hurt you.”
He yanked her tunic up, shoving her legs wide apart with his knees, his legs on hers to prevent her from kicking him.
Fear flushed through her. Her heart pounded, and her breath tore in and out of her lungs as she felt him fiddling with the belt of his pants. She needed to move, to keep trying to stop him, but the pain in her back was excruciating.
As if he could hear her thoughts he pushed her head further down into the bed.
“Relax, my pretty princess.” He shifted to position himself and his breath came faster. “It won’t be long before you’ll truly be under my protection,” he snorted at his joke.
Kia heard a cracking noise and a grunt and sank lower into the mattress as Oloran’s full weight bore down on her.
“C’mon girl, move before this shithead wakes up.”
Kia wriggled as fast as she could from under Oloran as Rehanya shoved. She staggered to her feet, shivering at her narrow escape, and struggling to stand as acute pains shot up and down her back.
The older woman took hold of Kia’s chin and examined her face. “You’ll have a few nasty bruises tomorrow, but you’ll live. Forgot your pot, did you?”
Kia nodded.
“Happens more than you’d think. But most get back without meeting bastards like him. Did he rape you?” Rehanya’s gaze was razor-sharp as she looked Kia up and down.
A sickening feeling sat heavy in her gut and her legs shook as she looked at the metal bar in the older woman’s hand. “N… no.”
“Help me roll him over.” Rehanya dropped her weapon.
Stars & Ashes Page 3