After a confrontation and challenge to his leadership that led to a resounding defeat and near death beating at the hands of his brother’s son on the steps of the capitol building, Sieti Kane ordered the execution of Sana Kane. This, he believed would ensure that his seat would never be challenged regardless if the Kasadu were ultimately to be defeated. But, at the behest of his council, Sana Kane was given over as a trophy and a sign of appreciation by Sieti Kane to the Tisht, a leading nation of the Kasadu.
After a year of beatings, incarceration and reprogramming methods, Sana Kane was approved to enter servitude of the Tisht. Four years had passed since leaving the lab for service, all of which were on the transport known as the Alani. While performing his duties, he learned the language, which was a complex blend of the dialects of most of the nations on Isfahan, which included multi-toned clicks and gargling sounds as well as other more pronounced words. But he had learned enough to understand what was being directed at him and to understand the conversations he overheard. There was a benefit to the perception of being thought to be of minimal intellect. Ranking members would often speak openly with him in the room or within earshot without concern of the sensitivity of the information they were sharing believing that he possessed only a basic understanding of the language. Sana learned much about the workings and plans of the Tisht and the Kasadu, but none was more important to him than what he had learned upon his arrival this day.
Based on their treatment of him and the others taken for slaves, he quickly realized at the onset of his captivity that the Tisht were vile, nasty, and brutal. Often during their conversations, they laughed and reveled in the horrific stories of war, death, and torture of those who opposed them. He realized that the ‘Dud, dud, dud,’ sound was their way of laughing after mockingly telling the story of a man from Tozan that had gone into shock while being tortured. This seemed to be one of the few things they took pleasure in.
Since the death of Tilhar, her life partner, Ningal was seated as the authority over the Kasadu earning her the title, in the feminine vernacular, of Nam-nim. This was done with near unanimous support of the leaders of the Kasadu. The few that had openly opposed the appointment conveniently and unexplainably disappeared and were replaced by members more favorable to her leadership.
Nam-nim was watching the holographic recording of the attack at the Baraza Zima where she had just successfully plotted the murder of the majority of the Jamhuri delegation, which was essentially an act of war. Sana heard the “Dud, dud, dud,” sound repeatedly as representatives from the leading nations were executed while others fled screaming and begging for their lives. During his time of forced servitude, he had never heard her, or her council, so happy.
The hologram disappeared, and she turned to a black-robed Tish that entered the room. Sana could not clearly hear what was said, the Nam-nim became furious and turned back to her left as a new holographic image appeared. He dared not look up and simply did his best to discern what was being said. What he could make out was that a female of unknown origin, who was an escaped slave, somehow had returned to the Erim of Tilhar, taken a boy of immense importance and was able to destroy nearly all the upper levels of the structure. Sana fought the urge to look up but wanted desperately to do so. It was not often that Ningal, despite being the new Nam-nim, was the one attacked or on the receiving end. Sounds he had never heard before flooded the room. He took great pleasure in her reaction to the news but did his best to seem oblivious.
The now angry Nam-nim cast her piercing black eyes on the sagnitah and demand that he approach. He could feel her stare and fought the natural tendency to look up. Three fast clicks, a popping sound and alternating high- and low-pitched tones were directed at the interpreter standing at the base of the guzza. The interpreter, who was rather short for a Tisht and only possessed some of their features, looked at Sana and translated the commands not knowing that he understood what was desired of him. Sana played along and acted as if he were listening intently and comprehending for the first time. He followed the gaze of the interpreter as he pointed in the direction of a room adjacent to one they were in.
Sana passed through a narrow opening and into a room that was a twenty-foot dimly lit cube. On the rear wall he could see the outline of the remnants of the latest victim of Nam-nim’s interrogation. Sana was instructed to clean up the mess and dispose of the body. Only, this mangled mass of flesh and bone was not completely dead. In an odd twist, Nam-nim had ordered Sana to finish the creature off. The shock of hearing the command nearly caused him to give himself away. While playing the part of being simple, he acted confused by the command and his understanding of the instruction to ‘finish him.” The translator relayed a distinct series of instructions for using a blade and where to put it and what to do once it was there. He listened like a mind-numb slave attempting to absorb the information.
This was not in his programming and needed to be seen as some kind of test. Perhaps she was on to him and this was her way to prove it. He was not a killer but performed lowly tasks of serving food and cleaning. Sana was mortified at the notion of being forced into a situation where he would kill someone while not an act of self-defense. This, for him, was murder. The conflict grew within while he contemplated and begged his mind to find a solution to his situation. He would rather give his life then take that of an innocent being. It wasn’t uncommon for his instruction to include the cleaning up of an area after such an interrogation, but the targets were so different from him and those he had known on Reiahn. Usually, they did not seem like intelligent beings at all, but the stuff of fables. This allowed him to separate his emotions from the work he was instructed to do. Also, they had always been dead. Now, he would have to kill whatever it was that was hanging from the ceiling against the wall.
He located the pad and slid his hand over it to turn on the lights so that he could get on with his work. Initially, it was difficult to tell what nationality the subject was and now he could understand why. The body was beaten, and the face was badly swollen and lacerated. He quickly realized that this was a citizen of Tozan, his homeland. This was the one they were laughing about. Sana walked up and looked at the bleeding face and exhausted golden eyes of his fellow countryman. The puffy brow squinted attempting to focus on him as if not believing what he was seeing.
“Sana?” a week voice called out.
He looked around the room to make certain that no one was watching him, then looked closer, “Boar?” he whispered.
Boar was a once strong and fearless leader of the Tozan military and a close confidant of Zan, Sana’s father. If he were to do as he was instructed, Boar would never leave the room alive. Sana was confused as to why there was a Tozanian on the Alani. Certainly, if Boar had been on the Alani all this time, he would have seen him while incarcerated, or while cleaning out the suspended cages where the prisoners were kept.
He moved to the door and listened as a conversation echoed through the chamber. It was Ningal. He looked out and saw the hologram of a short stocky creature who was animated while talking. After a few minutes of listening to the back and forth he realized that it was the leader of one of the nations of the planet of Sari. Through Ningal’s translator, he understood that a striker group was mobilized and was to meet up with the Tisht’s Ummanate Force and launch a military campaign to ‘restore’ support for the Kasadu and the upcoming war for control over the nations associated with the Universal Council. This was to begin with Reiahn, who’s loyalties were in decline. Ningal was not too happy about the truancy of the Sarian military and in return, the agitated Sarian leader made no apologies or excuses while vociferously pushing back against the newly seated Nam-nim’s tongue lashing. It wasn’t until a third person stepped forward and intervened that civility entered the conversation.
To Sana, this was a good sign. The leadership was fighting amongst itself. What was concerning was the pending attack on Reiahn. Sana, taking a huge risk of being caught, moved through a door in the chamber and
then through a second. He peered from behind a third door out of a large transparent plate on the exterior wall. There it was. They were hovering over Reiahn. Despite all his desire to see his home planet again, he never believed that he would actually live long enough to get there. But there it was.
As he looked about, he could see an immense fleet of Tisht military and wondered why they would need the help of the Sarians. The military presence was large enough to subdue the nations that controlled the planet. Unless the plan was annihilation, why would they need a larger force?
Going in an area he was not instructed to enter was the biggest risk he had taken since being on the Alani and his instincts were screaming for him to stop and return. Sana moved back into the room and began to tend to Boar before someone saw him. He knew that it was only a matter of time before he slipped up. It appeared that time had come as there was no way he would be the one to snub out what little life that remained in his fellow countryman. He needed to find a way to escape or he would end up like the mangled man in front of him. It was now or never. Judging by his time in captivity, it was highly unlikely that he would get a better opportunity. Sana had long since made peace with the decision to go down fighting like the soldier he was and not like the scared lowly slave he pretended to be. He would rather die doing as much damage and killing as many of the Tisht as possible.
He realized from the second he saw Boar in the light the injuries were fatal and there was no way to help. Sana didn’t even have the capacity to make the patriot of Tozan comfortable as he breathed his last breaths.
“You…need help…your people. Kill Sieti,” a week voice demanded, “your…people need you.”
“My people betrayed my father,” he whispered.
“You must help. You must,” he continued as he fought to breathe.
Sana reached over and tapped on the pad. The cable attached to the wrist bindings began to lower Boar to the floor. After a few seconds, the broken man moaned as a pair of shattered legs met the surface beneath his body. Sana became alarmed at the noise Boar was making. Despite being sympathetic to the pain the patriot of Tozan was in, Sana did not want anyone to come in the room to check on him until he had devised a plan. Boar was as good as dead no matter what happened. Even if by some miracle an opportunity to escape presented itself, there would be no way to carry him. He was too broken and no man, no matter how tough, could withstand the pain.
“Destroy the reactor and the ship would have no power. Agitate the telenium and the explosion would be good enough to destroy most of the Alani,” Sana said in a barely audible voice as he had thousands of times while alone as if to convince himself that such action was possible.
This was an insane plan as he would need to access a section of the ship he had known only through maps in the form of placards that were mounted in certain sections of the large transport. He would often stand in front of them looking confused as if trying to figure out what he was staring at which seemed to amuse those who noticed him. They would often take a snarky jab at an insult of the lesser being mocking the lack of understanding and intelligence. All the while he was memorizing them for the day he would need to know the layout of the spaceship, the day of his escape. The plan would require going to another level. If he were seen anywhere outside of the normal boundaries of his assigned range, the consequences would be far more severe than being mocked and made fun of. There would be a beating if not multiple beatings. Each section was distinguished by color and the slave with the wrong color uniform on in the incorrect section would stand out and receive punishment. Sana focused on a way to get to the room with the telenium and then to the reactor.
He turned to see the interpreter who had given him the instructions from Nam-nim to kill and dispose of his fellow countryman. The dark green marbled eyes were wide with the shock and fear of hearing what Sana said audibly and the realization that he was far more than any of them believed. Instinctively, Sana grabbed the rig that was intended for the killing of Boar and plunged the blade deep into the back of the fleeting translator before it got out of the room. Sana quickly pulled the limp body away from the door and sat it up against the wall where it couldn’t be seen without entering the room.
The moment he had prepared for was at hand. He would be punished for killing the interpreter and he did not intend to hide anymore and suffer at the hands of the Tisht. His only option was to do as much damage to the Alani and those who were on it. Seeing his home planet one last time gave him a short-lived sense of hope, or perhaps peace. Sana knew the view from the window was as close as he would ever get to going home again. Knowing that the intentions of the Tisht and the Kasadu, one of never ending war and murder, he had no option but to do his part to stop them. He prayed briefly for guidance, strength, and that his sacrifice would result in the death of Ningal in the process.
Often at night he would work through the plan and walk the layout of the ship in his mind. He would always visualize himself succeeding. After four years on the Alani and having seen the maps and thinking extensively about how to create an opportunity, he was certain that his plan would work. In order for that to happen, he needed to move quickly. Sana was on the twenty-third level and needed to get down to the sixth level where the telenium charges were kept. He moved into the hallway and looked once more at Reiahn in orbit and thought of his people. From space, the planet was as beautiful as he remembered. Sana realized that once he looked away, it would be the last time he ever saw it again.
Now, he was no more than a renegade slave. Sana turned, opened the small three by three metal door then climbed into the trash chute. Gravity on the Alani was set to be near that of the home planet of the Tisht, which was less than that of Reiahn. Despite the reduction in the gravitational pull that he was accustomed to while growing up with as a citizen of Tozan, he had long since acclimated to his weight. Due to the lack of balanced nutrition and being far less conditioned, the renegade slave suffered from a substantial loss in muscle density.
Sana climbed into the trash chute attempting not to think about falling twenty-three stories to his death and failing to accomplish anything outside of suicide. Cautiously, he first used his feet and pressed against opposite sides of the metal walls, adjusted his feet as they were slipping a bit, and closed the door. As soon as the door closed, the hard material on the shoes began to slide down the sheet metal wall and he had no way to open the door and nothing to grab onto. Sana maximized the outward pressure he was putting on the outside walls to support himself. Then reached across and pulled one shoe off at a time and released them into the darkness. Just before he was able to pull the second shoe off, the soundwaves of the distant thump from the first shoe reached him after landing on the first level. Sana could not see in the dark abyss below him, but he knew that falling from that height was certain death. His heart was racing and breathing suddenly became a little more difficult. With his bare feet sticking better to the dingy wall in front of him, Sana began to slowly spider climb down the trash chute. It was imperative that he not lose count of the doors as he passed them as there was only one shot to get it right. Any door other than six may be to his ruin and climbing back up, even one level, would not be an option.
The closed door also meant there was no possible way for light to enter the chute and the darkness was oppressive. Sana moved with caution while fighting the anxiety fueled desire to speed up his progress. He reached the first of seventeen and the metal door shifted, which resulted in an unexpected clanking sound. Sana hoped the noise outside of the chute would drown out his error but added fuel to his desire to just get the climb over with. The free man of Tozan gently worked himself down to the second opening with a lot more stealth. Sana hoped that passing the door that time had been a lot less obvious that something was seriously amiss to any living being on the outside of the rancid fifty-story coffin he was sliding down.
The lack of conditioning was becoming an increasing concern as his legs and arms were burning. Sana needed to get
out of the trash chute before he would be unable to hold himself up and fall into the void below. When he felt what he believed was door number six, his relief was overcome by uncertainty. What if he had miscounted? What if he had the incorrect door? What if what he thought was the sixth level was really the seventh or fifth level? What if there was an extra door that he did not know about? His arms and legs were screaming for relief, but his uncertainty had been nearly paralyzing.
A faint click of metal drew his attention upward. In the lifeless darkness above, a tiny light made by the open door from where he had entered could be seen. The light slowly grew larger, indicating the dissipation of the distance between his position and the light. A faint sound tickled his ear and he listened intently. After a few seconds, it was without doubt that he was hearing the propulsion of a puldahl hovering above. He wondered if it was routine to send one down to check out the chute for any maintenance issues, clogs, or a runaway sagnitah. Had they discovered that he was missing? Were they looking for him? The light from the puldahl was about ten levels above and drawing closer. He would be lucky to get out without either falling due to exhaustion or being spotted. With nothing to lose, he decided that the door had to be number six and there was no option but to go through it.
With his mind made up and being prepared to suffer whatever fate had befallen him, Sana reached over and hit the button that released the door. There was no reaction. He then tried to manually open the door and it resisted his efforts. He considered the possibility that the door was designed to prevent exactly what it was that he was attempting. Without the ability to see, he would not be able to know for certain. He fumbled in the dark for a solution and could not discern what it was he was feeling or even looking for.
Universal Code Page 44
