by Ehsan Ahmad
Sonus moved past Orani to a man named Arkus, who he did not know well but now needed to. “Hard to find anything for barter, eh?”
“Very. The Lovirr don’t know how lucky they are. They live in luxury compared to us.”
“Do they talk about what it’s like on the coast?” asked Sonus.
Arkus—a wiry fellow who wore a homemade sleeveless jacket over his overalls—was one of the few laborers other than Sonus permitted to work outside the mine. He had been a sewer engineer before the invasion and was used to working in confined spaces; the Vitaari could not find any drone or individual more effective at clearing the drainage channels they’d had to install. Though there was rain only in the summer months, melting snow was a constant problem. One of the main access points to the channels was close to the landing strip, and Arkus spoke to the Lovirr more than anyone else.
“Now and again.” Arkus dug the toe of his boot into the dust. “Some are better than others, but as a people they are selfish. They don’t care about us Palanians, or the Echobe, or anyone else. They live almost as free men in their four cities—they can tend their fields, fish if they want to. And every family is allowed to have a child, as long as they can feed it.”
Arkus’s face changed when he realized this might be a subject he should avoid with Sonus.
“The cities are heavily guarded though, aren’t they?”
“There are perimeters but nothing like here. The Vitaari know they hardly need guard them. The Lovirr have what they need to live, why would they cause trouble?”
“It is not in their nature,” said Sonus, mainly to see if Arkus agreed.
“They do what is convenient for them. The Vitaari view them almost as children—as long as they provide some free labor and do what they’re told, they know they’ll be safe. They must know what we go through here though—and at all the other mines.”
Sonus thought of the Kinassans. If rumors were to be believed, they were the only people who had successfully fought off the Vitaari. Few Palanians had ever seen one of the tribesmen and viewed the southern people as exotic, mysterious, and dangerous. He wondered if they even knew they were now heroes to the enslaved peoples of the north.
Arkus shrugged. “Ah, who’s to say we’d be any different if we were given the chance? There is an irony to it, eh? We Palanians used to think we were so superior. Doesn’t look that way now, does it?”
“I remember those dried apples we used to buy,” said Sonus. “The children loved those. Do you think one of the Lovirr might still be able to get some?”
“Maybe. Guards used to check everything, but there’s so little traded now they’ve probably forgotten about it. Probably best to just show them or tell them though, in case they got the wrong idea.”
“Do you know when the next freighter’s due?”
“Won’t be long,” said Arkus. “Once you can see cargo containers stacked up almost to the warehouse door, the freighter usually turns up. Next few days probably. Keeping you down below most of the time, aren’t they?”
“Yes.”
“Punishment, is it? For… you know.”
“I don’t think so,” said Sonus honestly. “Just not much work in the maintenance yard.”
Arkus watched someone walk past. Sonus turned and realized it was Litas. Arkus nodded in his direction: “I’ve seen him pestering you—still trying to find out who told them about Qari?”
“Yes.”
“Probably prefer to forget about it, would you?”
“I would.”
“He means well. Just puts his energy into the wrong things. He always used to go on at me about the channels. Where do they lead? What can you see from down there? Where do they come out? I told him, they all come out the same way—two thousand feet above a sheer drop onto solid rock.”
“He doesn’t ask anymore?”
“No. I suppose he’s given up. Like all of us.”
Vellerik took the call from Kerreslaa while sitting on his bed. The update had been as tedious and routine as ever, but the liaison officer seemed very proud of himself. There had been no serious incidents at any of the mines; Talazeer’s new regime was proving very effective.
“—and lastly, the Kinassans. Sensors have picked up nothing since your operation, Captain. I don’t imagine they’ll be venturing north when they see what you left behind.”
“Is that it?”
“Yes. I do hope you feel better, we—”
Vellerik cut him off.
He was pretending to be ill. Pathetic, he knew, but he couldn’t face going out there and lying—helping the Count conceal the truth. And he didn’t want to run into Talazeer himself. The last he’d heard, the Count had let one of the larger creatures loose in a cargo bay and was watching it run around.
Vellerik thought of Seevarta. He wondered what she was doing today. Visiting one of her friends perhaps, or taking a walk? He had received his last message from her the previous week. She had been worried about her back but was now feeling better. She missed him. She was counting the days until his return. Apparently, there were only ninety-eight left.
Earlier that day, he’d tried to record his own message. He thought it would be good for him to get it out, tell the truth. Though the sub-space transmissions took days to reach the home world, the lines were secure. But he couldn’t even start speaking because he didn’t know where he would end up. The thought of taking even one more order from Talazeer appalled him.
If he could just get through those ninety-eight days, it would be over. He could forget the Count, forget Corvos, forget all the killing, all the death. He had done it before. Even the worst memories faded, especially if you wanted them to. He could get through it. But he would need some help.
Cerrin was released after two days.
She didn’t particularly want to leave, but the surgeon made it clear she had no choice. He gave her the medication and told her to take half a tablet every day for a week. Mari asked if she wanted to use the showers and Cerrin willingly accepted, using as much soap as she could and staying under the water so long Mari eventually had to tell her to come out.
She stood there in a new pair of overalls, watching as the Palanian woman took her sheets from the bed. There were bloodstains where the wound had rubbed against them. That morning, the surgeon had applied some kind of glue-like liquid to it; he said this would help it heal and prevent what he called “infection.” Cerrin was also surprised to hear a second apology from a Vitaari surgeon: he said he’d like to “remove” the wound but was forbidden from doing so.
A guard arrived as Mari said goodbye in the corridor. She held Cerrin’s hand again and told her everything would be all right. Cerrin knew she should thank her, but the words didn’t come. They would soon enough, though.
The guard pointed to the exit and walked along beside her. Cerrin had to shield her eyes as she stepped outside; it was a bright, cold day. Ahead were the two accommodation blocks, silent with the day shift working and the night shift asleep. Two cleaning drones were sliding up and down the tower, cleaning off brown leaves blown in from the forest. Over at the landing strip, a squad of guards was running circuits. Among them was Kezzelet, who did not notice her.
The guard shoved her forward.
Cerrin spun around, snarling. “Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me.”
The guard laughed. “They told me you were one to watch.” His expression changed abruptly. “I wouldn’t try that again, though, or I’ll have to introduce you to my friend.” He tapped the top of his jolt-rod.
Cerrin only actually noticed her voice had returned when she spoke for a second time. “Where am I supposed to be going?”
“Straight to the mine—top level, cavern four.”
She walked quickly across the compound, past the tower and the accommodation blocks. As she passed under the cage, she recalled being looked at day after day. It would be the same now.
The entrance to
the Mine Fourteen was a colossal, square tunnel that sloped downward into the earth. A drill had obviously been through recently because a crew of laborers were at work with shovels, levelling out the deep ruts left by the vehicle. The four Vitaari guards on duty had a gun laid out on a table and seemed to be dismantling it. One of them was Stripe, and he looked up as Cerrin and the guard started down the slope.
“Wait there.”
Both she and the guard obeyed.
Stripe came close and expected the wound. “Look at that. Who have you annoyed this time, Longlegs? Knowing you, you probably thought you could escape from a starship—that right? Or maybe one of your pets did it?”
She hadn’t ever expected help to come from this quarter, but it was as good an explanation as any. She would not be telling anyone the truth. She felt ashamed; not that it had happened but that she’d gone along with it. Because she had gone with Marl. Because she had cleaned herself and wore that horrible red thing even when she knew what was coming. She should have fought back earlier.
“Yes, it was one of the animals.”
Stripe reached forward with one great gray hand and tipped her chin up. “Didn’t do much of a job fixing you up, did they? Probably decided you weren’t worth it.”
By Ikala, I will kill you. One day I will kill you.
“Probably.” She pointed into the mine. “Can I go?”
“Oh, don’t let me stop you.”
He let her and the guard take several paces away before continuing. “You know you made history, Longlegs. It’s ironic. Who would have thought an ignorant fool like you would be the first of your kind into space?”
The others laughed, but his words meant nothing to her. For once, all she wanted was to be amongst her own people, and she was surprised to find renewed strength in her body as she hurried on, the guard several paces behind.
The fourth cavern was one of the largest in the mine. Two Vitaari engineers were on movable gantries close to the roof, operating larger versions of the cutting blades used to clear vegetation in the forest. They were slicing off the enormous pale roots of the enkemika tree that regrew at a prodigious rate and could find their way down through the tiniest hole in search of water. Cerrin had done this work before: the Vitaari were concerned about the roots destabilizing the roof and obviously thought it easier to do this every few months than pull down the huge trees. Like much of the sprawling mine, the cavern was situated below ground far beyond the walls.
There were about twenty women from the day shift, divided into two groups. The Vitaari engineer in charge directed Cerrin toward the second, on the far side of the cavern. Passing the first group—who were shoveling the roots into crates—she saw a few familiar faces, one of which was Yarni. When the girl waved at her, Cerrin couldn’t stop herself from smiling. She realized it must have been the first time she had done so because the movement of the skin tugged at the wound. All of the women watched her.
The second group were collecting clumps of root cut by the Vitaari and piling them up. Again she saw many women she knew, and again they stared at her. Cerrin set about her work and found a strange comfort in the banal routine of it. She spoke to no one until the midday break.
Even then, the two groups were kept separate, and Yarni had to ask for permission to go and see Cerrin. Like the others, they had been given the usual tasteless food-packs, but Cerrin had also grabbed some softer sections of the root—it was a tad bitter but edible and known to provide energy.
“Nobody knew where you were,” said Yarni, trying not to look at the cut.
The pulsing ache had returned, so Cerrin took another half-tablet with her water.
“I had to collect some animals for… for the Vitaari. Then I went with them to their ship, to tell them how to look after them. While we were moving the karki, it attacked me.” She gestured at the cut. “Did this.”
“You went to their ship?” The girl’s eyes widened as she chewed on a length of root. “You went above the clouds?” She said the second part loudly, drawing looks from the other women.
“I did.”
“What was it like?”
“I don’t want to go back there.”
“What does it look like—is it black?”
“All black—like a sea. The ship is as big as a mountain, but it floats there like the ones that fly here.”
“Did you see the gods?” asked Yarni.
Cerrin shook her head. She had never felt farther from the gods in her life than up there. Though what she’d seen of the Vitaari should have convinced her it was futile to take them on, that was the opposite of how she felt.
“Some new faces,” she said quietly, nodding at the women.
Yarni shuffled closer. “Five on our shift. Two men and three women. They came in a few days ago—they were moved from Mine Six. Do you know where it is?”
“Out in the Empty Lands, I think. Do you know why they were moved here?”
“For work, they said. But we haven’t lost anyone to be replaced, so some don’t believe it.”
Cerrin glanced at the three newcomers. One in particular had caught her eye: a powerfully built Palanian woman with short, spiky hair. She too was sitting apart from the others and staring thoughtfully down at the ground.
“Sadi,” whispered Yarni. “She’s not very friendly.”
Though it hurt to eat, Cerrin knew the root was good for her and she kept some for later. Yarni continued to question her about her trip beyond the clouds, but Cerrin was more interested in her and why she was now working with the women.
“I asked to,” said Yarni proudly. “They will still give me the little jobs, but for the rest of the time I will work with the women. Can I work beside you sometimes, Cerrin?”
“Of course you can. I was watching you earlier—you didn’t stop. Remember to go at an even pace—you’ve got to last all day, and the next one comes around quick.”
“But I’m young.” The look of innocent enthusiasm upon the girl’s face almost drew tears from Cerrin, but she covered her reaction by pretending the cut was bothering her. When she thought of how all Yarni’s hopes would be battered out of her by years of enslavement, she could have easily struck out at the Vitaari there and then. While the girl told her how she planned to work hard so she would be strong when the Vitaari left, Cerrin looked over at the two engineers and two guards, who were at the other end of the cavern. The guards had no guns, only jolt-rods. It was a shame the engineers had left the light-knives up on the gantries. She imagined they would take off a leg with ease.
But it was not them she wanted to attack. Not just them, anyway. And there would be no more thoughts of escape. Not just her, anyway. She’d had a long time to think while working that morning, and it suddenly seemed an age since she’d lay in that bed, unable to speak.
Ikala, god of battle. See me, hear me, help me with what lies ahead.
It was as if Ikala had heard her already.
Midway through the afternoon, the new arrival, Sadi, moved subtly across the cavern, unnoticed by the Vitaari but not by Cerrin. The Palanian helped her shift a particularly heavy section of root and eventually broke the silence.
“Cerrin, right?”
“Right.”
“Sadi.”
They continued to talk quietly as they collected scraps well away from the others.
“You came in from Six?” asked Cerrin.
“Yes.”
“Why’d they move you?
“Labor reasons. That’s what they said.”
“That the truth?”
“Who knows?”
Cerrin decided she couldn’t read much from Sadi’s pale face. She knew that in the past the Vitaari had put spies and informers into mines where there might be trouble. Was it possible Talazeer had decided to return to such measures?
Sadi said, “I heard you tried to escape from here—even got close once?”
Cerrin didn’t mind talking abou
t that; everyone knew anyway. “Not close enough.”
“Me too. Long time ago.”
“They let you live?”
“I think they were impressed I managed to survive.” Sadi turned around and pointed to an area on the back of her head where no hair grew.
“Three jolt-rod shots in the same place. I was back on my feet within a day.”
“You never tried again?”
“Not much point out on the plain—nowhere to go. I heard you know the forest? That the Vitaari even use you for a guide?”
Cerrin stayed quiet. What had seemed lucky now seemed suspiciously so. Were the gods helping her, or was she being lured into revealing too much?
“You don’t trust me,” said Sadi. “I don’t blame you. You shouldn’t.” She threw a hefty root onto the nearest pile. “Not yet.”
17
Sonus worked in the mines for six consecutive days before he was summoned to the surface by Kadessis. Strangely, his cough barely troubled him, and physically, he felt better than he had in months.
Work on the weapon was progressing. The barrel was complete, and the method for loading the ammunition functioned well. The magazine (a converted plastic container) sat atop the rear of the barrel; a simple bolt opened a slot in the tube, and gravity did the rest. Sonus reckoned he would be able to reload and fire within two or three seconds with a bit of practice. But now came the last and most complicated element: the firing mechanism. It would be difficult to construct and dangerous to test, but he couldn’t even start without a few key components. And those could only be found in the maintenance yard: to be precise, the maintenance building.
