“These aren’t from the crash,” Jetta mumbled, tracing the marks with a finger.
Lines of worry pinched the corners of Jaeia’s mouth. “Do you remember?” Jaeia began, but she stopped when her fingers found the scar that zigzagged across her inner forearm.
“The last thing I can really remember,” she continued, pulling her sleeve down over the scar, “is beating Drakken.”
Jetta looked at her solemnly and whispered, “Me too.”
Jaeia nodded, her facial expressions carefully neutral. Feeling that her twin tried to control her psionic projections to not upset her further only made things worse.
Jahx—oh Gods—where are you? Jetta thought, panic kicking her heart into overdrive.
The Grand Oblin peeked into their cavern.
“Feeling better?” he asked gaily as he hobbled inside, leaning heavily on his walking stick. In his other hand he carried a milky-white, semi-spherical object with luminous green roots. It glowed softly, the light changing in intensity with the Oblin’s uneven movements.
It’s just like those glowing orbs on the ceiling and walls, Jaeia shared across their bond.
“What do you want?” Jetta said sharply, mind still on her brother. The old man appeared far too frail to be much of a threat, but that did little to ease her tension. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jaeia sit back down and slip her hand beneath her blankets. In her own palm, Jetta felt the rough edges of the rock that Jaeia grasped.
The old man winked at Jetta, and for a moment she felt that he knew about the rock and found it amusing. She dismissed the thought. There’s no way he could know.
“Do not be alarmed, my friends. You must trust me when I tell you that neither I nor my companions wish you any harm. If we had, we wouldn’t have bothered saving you in the first place. Now,” he said, edging himself down onto the boulder in the center of the room, “at least tell me your names. I have already introduced myself—I am Oblin.”
“You said ‘Grand Oblin’ before,” Jetta corrected.
He chuckled. “Yes, sometimes I forget my title. Sometimes I even forget what day it is. Another consequence of old age, I suppose.”
Jetta silently questioned his sanity. “‘Grand’ of what?”
“‘Grand’ is just an honorary title that comes with age and debatable achievement where I’m from,” he replied, raising an eyebrow and sporting a goofy grin.
Jetta felt her sister’s grip on the rock loosen, and the knot in her own stomach slackened. This old man was daft, senile, and as much as she tried, she couldn’t keep hold of her anger.
“Can you tell us where we are?” Jaeia asked, her gray eyes fixed on his every move.
The old man combed his beard with his fingers. “As I told your sister yesterday, this is Tralora, once home to the Narki.”
“What quadrant?” Jetta asked. “What are the exact coordinates? Are we near the Homeworlds, or are we in deep space?” If there were people here, she reasoned, there had to be ships, and she could find her way back to the Dominion, and Jahx.
The Grand Oblin eyed her again and brought the walking stick to his shoulder. “My dear, what use is that information to you?”
Jetta huffed. “You don’t expect us to stay here, do you?”
The old man shook his head. “Child, there is no escape. You’re lucky enough to be alive.”
“What do you mean?” Jaeia asked, approaching the Oblin cautiously. “What is wrong with this place?”
The old man’s watery eyes seemed troubled by the question. “Do you know what the USC is—the United Starways Coalition?”
Jetta lurched forward. The USC. She looked to Jaeia, but her sister held her breath, staring off into the distance.
“A few years back the Narki invented a transport system that could move massive amounts of cargo, people—entire armadas—instantaneously from one area to another. When they opened up trade communications with the USC instead of the Dominion, the Dominion made use of their bioweapons department.”
“Bioweapons?” Jaeia repeated.
“They sent a plague. Their idea was to neutralize the Narki and then raid the planet for the transport designs, but they never thought the Narki might try to combat the illness with their own bioweapons. Unfortunately for both the Narki and Dominion, their attempts at a cure caused the plague to mutate. The Dominion had no means of neutralizing it, and the planet became—for lack of a better term—poisoned.”
“So why didn’t they send a probe or an autodroid to take the designs?” Jetta replied skeptically.
“The central city’s defense perimeter is still active, even after all these years. No alien vessels, manned or not, can enter the city.”
“So... are we infected then?” Jaeia whispered, her eyes widening as she turned over her hands.
The Grand Oblin lifted his arms. “Yes—it’s everywhere.”
“What?” Jetta exclaimed, looking over her body. She didn’t feel sick, just bruised and banged up, and she didn’t have any rashes or other signs of illness.
The old man chortled. “Well, as far as we know, these caves have the planet’s only known source of suppressant. We’ve been dosing you since you arrived.”
Jetta’s forehead knitted with all the questions running through her head. “So—what is this place then? A dumping grounds for enemies of the Core?”
The Grand Oblin tapped his forefinger on the tip of his nose. “Precisely. Sometimes others come along, too—the unfortunate souls who have wronged the right people.”
Jetta pursed her lips. “A lot of this doesn’t add up. Why can’t you just go to the city, send out a signal, and get rescued?”
The Oblin shook his head. “Even if we could get past the animals that have been transformed by the plague—and there are plenty out there—nobody would come. What we have is incurable and highly contagious. Most people die within weeks or even days, depending on the species. The fact that we’ve discovered a way to keep the disease in latency is very lucky. Even if the Core knew about our ability to stave off the infection, I don’t think it would matter to them. We’re trapped.”
“How do you know all this?” Jetta questioned.
He smiled and replied softly. “There are a few USC officers here among us. They knew about what happened to the Narki and were some of the first Sentients sentenced to this place by the Dominion.”
There are USC officers here. Jetta filed that information away for later, knowing she would need to pursue it further.
“Are we safe here? What do these infected creatures look like?” Jaeia asked.
“You are quite safe here in the caves. The only working entrance at this time sits high atop a mountain ledge which ‘the altered’ have never been able to reach. We’ve also salvaged a high-frequency bioshield from a cruiser wreck to act as a backup.”
Shifting uneasily, Jetta allowed her twin’s emotions to enter her mind. She shared the same concerns: a nasty pandemic, mutated fauna—at least according to this strange old man. Is this just another prison? Is he our new warden? What does want from us?
Jetta looked at the spherical object in the old man’s hand. He noted her gaze. “Yes, this fruit is the source of the suppressant. We call it ‘Macca.’ It’s the only means to keep the virus inside all of us in latency.”
“How do you know that?” Jaeia inquired.
“One of the Exiles in our band is a scientist from Oriya. A long time ago we were able to recover some lab equipment from the Narki city so he could work to find a cure. As of the moment, however, he is unable to replicate the fruit’s suppressant properties.”
“Why not just stash a whole bunch of that fruit, dodge the monsters, nab a ship from the city and blast off this rock? I’m sure somebody could freeze you up there, at least ‘til they can find a cure,” Jetta said.
The Grand Oblin used his walking stick to draw a circle in the dirt. “You’re not the first to think of that, and many have tried. Things are a bit more complicated than they
seem.”
Emotion weighted his words, forming images in Jetta’s mind. She saw a vast city entombed in ashes and debris, and the remnants of disabled starships. Macca, plucked off the vine in the morning, withered and rotted before sunset. Regret and sorrow filled her heart as the faces of old friends, foolish souls who tried to survive without the Macca, turned to dust.
Skeptical, Jetta tried to look deeper and root out the falsities, but the Grand Oblin’s mind seemed out of reach. This whiff of emotion and memory, bland, and worse yet—filtered—was not helpful.
An old thought resurfaced: (Control. All of their minds are so controlled. I can’t read them.)
She placed a hand on her head. Something like this had happened before.
We have to get out of here, Jetta called to her sister, searching for anything around her that could serve as a weapon.
Wait. We need to know more, Jaeia said, her presence rising in her mind. We can’t make any enemies right now.
Jaeia’s sensibilities diffused her urgency. They were lacking enough information to escape, and if Jetta assaulted the old man, the other Exiles would come after them.
“How many Exiles are there?” Jaeia inquired.
The old man looked up to the rocky ceiling as he thought. “There’s been some trouble, so our numbers aren’t what they used to be. We’re down to seven right now, with you two included. The others are Rawyll Cay and Crissn Ere from Oriya, and Commander Dinjin Lorkan and Lieutenant Senka Cordjha from the USC.”
“Trouble? What kind of trouble?” Jetta asked. She sensed the Oblin’s caution now and noted how carefully he chose his words.
“Well, there are other Exiles on this planet that we do not get along with very well. Sometimes they attack us for our supplies from the city and also our Macca. We have tried to live harmoniously with them, but things are not always as simple as they should be.”
“But no one can last without the Macca, right?” Jetta said, righting herself. “So how the hell are the other Exiles still alive? Are you attacked every night or what?”
Although barely perceptible, Jetta caught the Oblin grinding his teeth. Just like Galm used to do when he concocted wild stories to get out of talking about his history with Yahmen.
“The suffering from their sickness is unimaginable,” was his only explanation.
He obviously didn’t want to tell them more, and Jetta knew that asking would get her nowhere. She reconsidered grabbing onto him again and stealing his knowledge, but before she had a chance he swiveled off his perch, brushing the dust off his robes. That’s the fastest I’ve seen him move.
I think he’s telepathic.
Jetta heard her sister’s thought in the back of her mind but didn’t know how to respond. They had never really interacted with another telepath before, so she didn’t know what to expect. However, his responses to them were always a step ahead, like he had an unseen advantage.
Fearful of vulnerability, Jetta shrunk inside herself, guarding her thoughts like she did when she didn’t want her siblings to know how she felt.
“Speaking of the Macca,” the Grand Oblin said, “it’s about that time.” Despite his frailty, the Grand Oblin took the fruit and cracked it against his bony knee. It broke evenly, and a gelatinous gray substance jiggled in each half.
“I admit the taste leaves something to be desired, but it’s filling, and it keeps us alive,” he said, setting down a half next to each of them. Jetta looked at the melon, the Grand Oblin’s memories whispering warning.
Death will come.
Jaeia, overhearing her thoughts, added her own: The Oblin’s fear is real. I see it in his eyes. We can’t survive without the Macca.
Seeing their hesitancy, the old man reached over to drink from Jetta’s half. He swept the gray, gooey trail from his mouth with the back of his hand.
“None too appetizing, but vital nonetheless. I need to go meet with the others now. If you need anything, well, I will be back soon enough,” he said. He levered himself up with his walking stick, a grimace crinkling his face, and carefully ducked out of the cave.
“Something’s different,” Jetta said when she was sure the old man was out of earshot.
“What’s that?” Jaeia asked, timidly licking the rim of the fruit, her lips pursed against expected unpleasantness.
“I can hear you—really hear you. It’s like you’re shouting in my head.”
Jaeia stopped, cocked her head, and let her eyes relax. “Your voice is stronger in my head, too. Not just that, either. Everything feels more vibrant. Like the Grand Oblin—I couldn’t get inside his head, but I still got an impression. What do you make of it?”
“Don’t know,” Jetta replied, slurping up a small mouthful of the Macca. The thick jelly slid down her throat, leaving a metallic aftertaste. “But I do know he’s not letting on to everything he knows—about us or about how to get outta here. He’s being really careful about everything he says and thinks. I think he wants to use us.”
Jetta could tell by her sister’s thoughts that she didn’t want to concede to her skepticism—she couldn’t concede. Why is Jaeia always so afraid to fully align with me?
“It’s going to be difficult to trust anyone until we can remember everything that happened to us,” Jaeia said, tracing the rows of scars on one of her legs with her finger. She winced, not in pain, but at the ugly testament of violation.
“Jaeia, we need to find Jahx,” Jetta said, setting down the fruit and scooting closer to her sister on the rock shelf bed. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to him.
Jaeia shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. “Jetta—I’m afraid.”
Jetta laid her head on top of her sister’s thighs and squeezed her eyes shut. “I swear on my life that I will never let anybody hurt you again.”
“YOU CAN’T BE SERIOUS—THEY’RE kids!”
Sharp words came between dreams and reality. Emerging from sleep, Jetta expected to see red and gray apartment walls, and Galm and Yahmen fighting in the living room.
I don’t want to work in the mines, Jetta thought. When she felt the cold dampness of the rock against her hands as she tried to sit up, she remembered where she was.
Another time, another prison. With a heavy heart, Jetta flipped off the animal skin covers of the rock shelf bed and checked her wounds. The soreness in her chest and leg had diminished to an ache. Maybe I can stand?
(Maybe we can escape—)
Jaeia, curled up next to her in the same bed, lay in fitful sleep, her arms and legs twitching.
“Hey,” Jetta whispered, nudging her shoulder.
Jaeia mumbled something and slowly opened her eyes. Jetta placed a finger to her lips and looked toward the source of the angry voices.
Let’s see what we’re up against, Jetta thought.
Afraid, but following her sister’s lead, Jaeia silently agreed.
Jetta crouched low to the floor, leading her sister to where their cavern tunneled into the next. Larger and better illuminated by huge clusters of Macca, the adjacent cavern appeared to be some sort of central meeting area. A circle of rocks surrounded an extinguished fire pit, and tools and clothes lay scattered in messy piles as if a project had been interrupted.
Five adults stood inside the circle of stones, arguing in low voices that occasionally rose. Jetta blinked in confusion. The Grand Oblin had mentioned only himself, three other males and one female, but the old man did not appear among the arguers.
Jetta recognized the large man with the red facial tattoo from the Oblin’s memories. His serrated nose and large, pinned-back ears were echoed in the smaller man wearing wire-rimmed glasses standing to his right. Yellowish skin and bristly hair marked the third, uniformed man as Kulu. The woman standing next him wore the same faded uniform in a different color, but Jetta wasn’t sure of her species. Pointed ears and high, arched brows, suggested she probably hailed from the Vreaper colonies, but her pink skin and delicate hands seemed more human than Vreaper.
“—we can’t try the city again, Rawyll—we barely managed to save the children before the infected found us, and that was only a kilometer away from the caves,” a plump woman said.
Jetta shared her sister’s confusion. The middle-aged woman wore the same robes as the Grand Oblin’s, though they dragged on the ground as she waddled around the fire. Only her gigantic breasts kept the cloth from getting completely underfoot.
Where is the Grand Oblin? Jaeia thought.
“We need more supplies. The Prigs stole our last ammunition box, and we’ve used up all the medical kits on the launnies,” said the tattooed man.
“Don’t call them that,” the Vreaper woman insisted. “That’s the ugliest word in the Starways.”
“That’s debatable,” one of them said, but Jetta couldn’t see who.
The tattooed man grumbled. “The Prigs are going to raid us any day now. Grand, you know better than anyone that we’re in danger.”
Bewilderment echoed between the sisters. Why is the tattooed man addressing the fat lady as Grand? Is she wearing the same robes as the Oblin?
“And what about those kids anyway? Are they dangerous? Why were they sent here?” asked the uniformed Kulu.
The plump woman held up her hands in the same strange fashion as the Oblin.
“Please, listen,” she started, then stopped, turning her head sharply in their direction.
Oh no—
Jetta ducked down behind the rock, but it was too late.
“Come out,” commanded the tattooed man. The adults kept their eyes trained on Jetta and Jaeia as they came out from their hiding place.
“What are you doing up?” he demanded.
He’s concentrating very hard on keeping his thoughts in check, Jaeia shared across their bond. I can barely detect anything.
Jetta probed the rest of the adults, but came up against invisible brick walls. It’s like they’ve been trained.
Jaeia shuffled closer to her sister. They know.
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