by Todd Brill
They passed through the gates and into a small building marked as the supervisors’ office. Inside, the sergeant was sitting behind a small desk tapping at a small tablet computer. When he saw them enter, he placed the tablet on the desk and motioned for Nomad to sit in the small seat opposite him. Nomad sat and the guard left.
“I understand you call yourself Nomad,” began the sergeant, tapping his finger on his desk. He was wearing standard guard armor but had his helmet off. He had a large scar on his face running from his cheek to just above his large protruding chin.
“That’s right,” said Nomad, wondering what was coming next.
“I’ve been hearing stories about you,” continued the sergeant, picking up the tablet again and tapping it. He began reading from it.
“Works well. Follows directions. Other prisoners look up to him. Some very positive remarks on these reports. But positive reports don’t concern me. It’s the negative remarks that concern me. It seems as though you have quite a following, Nomad. Several reports have come in that you’ve been meeting with fellow prisoners and have been overheard saying some interesting things about our great Leader.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” said Nomad, his jaw clenching. They knew about the group. Or they suspected. Either way, this was very dangerous. His heart began to race.
“Oh, come now,” said the sergeant, “you aren’t foolish, Nomad, and neither am I. I know the prisoners aren’t happy about their conditions here. It’s only natural. Who would want to be a prisoner here? Certainly not me. It’s my job to make sure the camp runs smoothly, you see, and when I hear talk like this, it makes me angry because if word got out, people might think I wasn’t doing my job. You’re an intelligent person, Nomad, so I think you understand what I’m saying here. I’ve tried making the conditions in the camp such that everyone gets what they need to keep working. So long as the work continues, everyone is happy.”
Except everyone isn’t happy, thought Nomad. It’s easy for him to sit there as a guard who can go home each night and be happy about the status quo, but the prisoners have no such freedom. They are slaves to the Leader’s pet project. Nomad recognized he was feeling very tense and agitated. His fists were clenched and his jaw set. Dark sea. Calm.
Nomad remembered his training and began to relax. He took a deep breath while the sergeant was speaking and began to listen. The sergeant wasn’t an evil person. Nomad could feel that. If anything, he was bored. That was what Nomad felt from him. The sergeant hated being here and was bored with administering a work camp. But he was also a determined and dedicated subject of the Leader.
“But it seems,” continued the sergeant, “that some of you aren’t content with survival and basic comforts. There’s talk of politics and religion and even rebellion among the prisoners. This I cannot abide. You people came to our planet without warning us or asking our permission, showing up as you pleased, exploiting our territories, and demanding rights not given you by the Leader. Our people got sick of it and demanded our wise Leader do something about the invasion of aliens. It only seemed right to use the aliens to help us stop the influx of unwanted people.
“So tell me, who do you surmise is the true victim in all this? Surely not us. It’s an unfortunate circumstance we all have to deal with, isn’t it? So why not work together to get this project done?”
“Can I tell you about some things I’ve heard around the camp?” said Nomad coolly.
“By all means,” said the sergeant, sitting back in his chair.
“There’s talk that once the project is complete, the prisoners will be rounded up and killed,” he said bluntly. He could feel the tension emanating from the sergeant as the words left his mouth.
“That’s a filthy lie,” said the sergeant calmly, his fingers tapping on his desk again. Nomad could feel the tension and anger emanating from him as palpable as the stink of the tiny huts in the hot sun after a hard day of labor.
“I’m not privy to every decision the Leader makes,” continued the sergeant, “but last I heard, the plan was for re-education and integration, not mass killings. You can tell this to your friends and confederates in the camp if you want. Also, keep in mind that fomenting rebellion among the prisoners will not be tolerated. It doesn’t matter if you’re old and infirm or young and strong. You can tell your friends that anyone caught talking about rebellion will be terminated. We will not accept that kind of behavior in this camp. Are we clear, Nomad?”
“Very clear,” said Nomad. They knew about Jorune and the group. The sergeant said as much in his not-so-cryptic comments about someone “old and infirm.”
The sergeant waved his hand and said, “Guard! Take him back to work.” The guard led Nomad out of the office and back into the work area. As he left, Nomad caught a glimpse of the sergeant smiling as he tapped at his pad.
He would have to warn Jorune and the others somehow. The prison guards were watching them and listening. Things were getting dangerous and if they weren’t careful, someone was going to be killed. Maybe all of them.
12
“I’m glad you came to me, Ted,” said Jorune. “This complicates things.” She was leaning on her bone crutch, a frown furrowing her tiny blue wrinkled face.
“Who knows how long they’ve been watching us. How much they know. They might even have a mole in our group,” said Nomad. He was pacing, his fists clenched.
“A mole?” said Jorune, looking up.
“Someone in our group working for the guards. Reporting back to them. How else would they know so many details? They knew who was involved and what was said,” replied Nomad.
“Hmmm,” she said quietly. Nomad could tell she was thinking. Whenever she did, her blue energy would shift and spin in a certain way he recognized. He let her think while he did the same.
There had to be someone inside the group. But who? Neither Jorune nor Nomad had sensed anything wrong with the others, but perhaps they were just very good at keeping their thoughts quiet. This was one of the limits of listening he had learned about. Even people without the gift could hinder its use. People with highly disciplined minds could control their thoughts and emotions to a degree, making it difficult or impossible to listen to them.
“There is someone I suspect,” said Jorune finally, a look of dark disappointment appearing across her face.
“Who?” replied Nomad, startled out of his thoughts by her sudden speech.
“I don’t know for certain yet. But I sense there has been some deception in the group. One of them is holding something back, keeping something secret. I need to question them to know for sure, but I’m not sure we have time. We might have to move the plan timeline ahead even sooner. We can’t risk that they know everything and our timeline as well. We need some element of surprise or the plan will fail.”
“When?” asked Nomad. He had stopped pacing and was facing her now, his heart pounding so loudly he was certain she could hear it.
“Tomorrow,” she said sadly, looking down at the dirt floor of the hut.
“Tomorrow? Jorune, how can we do it tomorrow? We aren’t ready. I’m not ready,” said Nomad, his eyes bulging in worry.
“We are ready enough,” interrupted Jorune. “Your training has been going very well and, although it isn’t complete, you know enough to help us get through. I don’t see any other options, Ted. If we stick to the same plan and timeline, we will surely be captured. We don’t have the option to change the plan, so that only leaves the timeline that can change. The only way we can take advantage of this new information is to surprise them with a change. No, we leave tomorrow. Make your preparations.”
Nomad sighed. Then, Jorune did something unexpected. She reached into her pocket and produced a small necklace made of woven plant fibers. On the end hung what looked like a small, carved stone amulet in the shape of whirlpool. The amulet was a light blue color with what appeared to be silver highlights.
“I was waiting for the right time to give this to you, Ted, bu
t now seems as good a time as any,” she said. “Kneel down so I can put this on you. Come now, don’t make an old woman work too hard.” Nomad knelt down in the dirt of her hut.
“Every mentor constructs one just like it for their students when they feel the student has mastered the basics. The mentor imbues the amulet with a small piece of their own energy so the student can carry it with them their whole lives. It symbolizes the connection between mentor and student and must never be taken off. It may look simple and fragile, but it isn’t. The part of me that’s in this amulet also keeps the physical coherence of the amulet safe from the effects of entropy. It can only be destroyed by incredibly powerful energy or by your death. Once destroyed, the connection between us will be forever lost.”
She gently placed the necklace around his neck and tucked it into his robe. The amulet felt warm. Nomad could feel her blue energy thrumming inside it almost like a faint heartbeat. Then she hugged him warmly.
“We are connected now,” she said quietly, looking into his eyes while she held his head in her hands. “For as long as you live and the amulet survives, I will be a part of you. Should you ever mentor a student of your own, you will need to perform the same ritual when they’re ready.”
Nomad had tears in his eyes and nodded silently, not knowing what to say and choking back his emotions. This small alien woman had been like a mother to him for the months he had been a prisoner at the camp. She had shown him more faith and respect than he had ever received from any person in his life with the exception of Lou-Lou those many years ago. He trusted Jorune more than any other person he had ever met with the exception of Danik.
“Don’t be sad, dear,” she said kindly as she smiled at him. “We may have many years together yet. It’s not possible for us to know the future, but that doesn’t mean we should be sad before anything sad actually happens. Live your life, Ted. Love. Fight. Do what feels right in your heart. Don’t look back, but don’t look too far ahead, either.”
She kissed him on the forehead and lifted him by the elbow. Nomad wiped the tears from his face and cleared his throat.
“Thank you for everything, Jorune. Our time together has meant a lot to me,” said Nomad. “I feel bad that I don’t have anything to give you.”
“You’ve given me more than you can know, Ted,” replied Jorune, squatting on the hut floor. “Being a mentor is as important to my growth as it is to yours. Being a mentor is a learning experience for me, too. It helps me understand people and the universe and listening more deeply than I could if I didn’t mentor. I’m sure you’ll understand in time. I sense great things are in store for you, Nomad. One day, I’m sure you’ll have a student, too. Then you’ll understand what I’m telling you.”
“How touching,” said a gravelly voice coming from the door of the hut. Nomad spun around at the sudden intrusion to see Harvith standing silhouetted in the dim camp lighting outside, framed by the doorway. There were several camp guards standing behind him.
“Harvith! You back-stabbing bastard!” growled Nomad, stepping toward him. Jorune had him by the arm and held him back.
“The universe is a tough bitch, Nomad,” said Harvith smiling slyly. “We all do whatever we need to do to survive. Your plan was doomed to failure anyhow.”
“Are you happy about helping kill your fellow prisoners?” asked Nomad, his voice dripping with venom.
“They did it to themselves, you fool!” Harvith spat back. “This stupid idea was bound to fail. I just took the opportunity to ensure my life and my freedom. I’m to be made a guard and given my own place to live and serve the Leader. Not a terrible price to pay in my opinion. Not for turning in a group of overreaching fools.”
“All right, that’s enough, Harvith,” said the sergeant, pushing his way past Harvith into the dimly lit little hut.
“We want Jorune, Nomad, not you. We need all the able bodies we have to complete the project, but she is expendable,” said the sergeant motioning to the guards who filtered into the hut to grab Jorune. Nomad could only stand there while they grabbed him and pushed him roughly to the floor, his face in the dirt, a boot on his neck.
Dark seas. Stay calm, he told himself. Be patient.
“Remember what you’ve learned here, Nomad,” said Jorune as they walked her out of the hut. “Remember me.”
“Jorune!” he yelled through the dust and dirt of the hut floor. “Please don’t hurt her!” he pleaded. The guard pressed down on his neck further.
“She won’t suffer,” said the sergeant somewhere in the hut. The guard that pushed Nomad into the ground was preventing him from looking around.
“Oh, and you will see her again tomorrow, Nomad,” continued the sergeant in a mocking voice. “When she is executed for her crimes against the Leader in front of all the prisoners as an example. I warned you against this. I tried to reason with you,” said the sergeant as he began to exit the hut behind his guards.
“Sleep well, Nomad,” he said and chuckled as he left the hut. The boot lifted off his neck, and Nomad quickly rolled onto his back in time to see the guard’s rifle butt slam into his forehead. He saw stars for a brief moment, and then he was drowning in the dark sea.
13
He awoke some time later with a lump on his head and a pounding headache. The sky was still dark. He still had time.
Nomad spent the remainder of the evening sneaking from hut to hut talking to his friends. He convinced all of them to help him escape during the execution and rescue Jorune. He would do anything in his power to stop them from killing her.
Some of them required more convincing than others of course, but in the end, they all loved Jorune, and some of them owed her their lives. She was after all, the Mother.
Then, he had to try to convince Danik.
“They’re going to kill her tomorrow,” said Nomad quietly so as not to wake little Yola.
“That’s terrible,” said Danik, “but how do you expect to save her without any weapons and just a handful of half-starved prisoners?”
“We already had a plan — we just need to change it a little. The escape route is the same; we just have to rescue Jorune first. I can’t leave you and Yola behind so you need to come with me,” he replied.
Danik looked over at the small mat with Yola sleeping on it. She looked peaceful and was smiling.
“She is so young,” she sighed, “but this has been a good lesson for her. It will teach her many things. This might be our only chance to escape this prison. But there’s something you need to know first. I haven’t been completely honest with you and I think it’s best you know everything before we do this thing.”
Nomad’s head began to spin. What could she possibly tell him that she had been keeping from him until now? They had shared their beds, talked into the small hours of the mornings on many occasions. He thought he knew her well and they were in love.
“I’m not who you think I am,” she said, touching his arm. “I’ve had to keep it a secret until I was sure we were safe but I think it’s better you know before we try this plan. I’m not Yola’s mother. I’m her bodyguard. On our world, Yola is a princess and the only heir to the throne. I’ve sworn my life to protect her and I will die before I see her harmed.”
Nomad took a deep breath and smiled. “Well, you sure fooled me,” he said. “But this doesn’t change anything. I still love you and want to see both of you safe and free. Do you love me?”
“Of course!” said Danik a little too loudly before her hand went to her mouth in surprise. Yola stirred.
“Of course, I do,” she repeated quietly. “I didn’t plan on it; I tried not to fall in love but it couldn’t be helped.” She pulled Nomad closer to her, pressing him against her in the dark. His arms wrapped around her, and he pulled her into his chest and smelled her hair.
“Good,” he said, “then it’s settled. Let’s go over the plan so you know what’s going to happen. Everyone else has been told and they’re ready.”
They spent the la
st few hours before dawn going over the plan. Nomad was surprised to learn Danik had combat training and she pointed out some valid ideas to improve the plan slightly. All this time she wasn’t just a single mom trying to care for her young daughter. She was a well-trained, combat-ready bodyguard. Nomad would have to work on his listening harder from now on. Too much escaped his attention.
Danik even had some improvised knives she made from some scrap metal she salvaged during work hours and had hidden the blades in the hut. Because she had two of them, she gave one to Nomad. He slipped the weapon under his clothes and thanked her before leaving the hut just before sunrise.
He was exhausted and hungry but there was no time to waste. After breakfast, they would publicly execute Jorune and he couldn’t allow that to happen. She had taught him so much and he owed her a great debt that must be repaid if he could.
Their group sat at different tables at breakfast to avoid arousing suspicion. Nomad knew the guards were watching him and the others closely. The sergeant knew who the co-conspirators were, and they were probably waiting for them to make a move so they could execute them all.
“One slip, and down the hole we fall,” muttered Nomad under his breath. It was a lyric from a song he knew from Earth and it seemed appropriate somehow. He used the lessons he learned from Jorune to focus his mind while he spooned the watered-down gruel into his mouth. He sent his mind riding the waves of the dark sea, listening to the calm, black waves.
There was no bread today. Nomad noted they were being fed less and less each day. They would probably be starved before they executed the entire camp when the project was complete. It would be easier for the guards to deal with prisoners weak from starvation and hard labor.
