by Gun Brooke
“What?” Thea watched with increasing concern how Caya put the mug down and then clasped her forehead. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t seem to get her thoughts out of my mind. The images from the refugee camp—they’re awful. Horrible.” Shaking now, Caya gripped Thea’s hands. “Did you know how bad it was?”
“I have read reports and seen some vids of some of it. I think what you’re experiencing, having captured this woman’s memories, must be worse.” Caya slid closer. “Tell me about it.” She hoped that would help cleanse Caya’s mind. Right now she looked like she was bursting.
“You sure? Those memories aren’t pretty.” Caya’s eyes brimmed with tears. “Then again, Gioliva’s story is worth telling. It really should be recorded.”
Mentally chastising herself for not thinking of this immediately, Thea let go of Caya with one hand, pulled out her tablet, and tapped it to assume voice control. “Computer. Record conversation. Security level one, code Gassinthea Mila Tylio voice recognition and retinal scan.”
Caya didn’t start right away. She ate some of the fruit and drank some of the cold tea, perhaps realizing it would take some replenishing to get through Gioliva’s memories. She still sat close to Thea, who fought the urge to pull her into a protective embrace. What was it about this young woman that made her act not only out of character, but on a personal level that she had vowed to never do after her divorce? Letting someone close left you vulnerable in all kinds of ways. Thea was the president of the people aboard this ship and would be until the next election. That was her first priority. It had to be.
Caya shifted next to her on the couch and now faced Thea head-on. “Here goes.” She closed her eyes briefly and breathed deeply and evenly a few times. Wincing, she blindly felt with one hand in the space between them. Thea took it between hers, not surprised at how cold it was. Caya opened her eyes but seemed to look at something far behind Thea’s left shoulder. Then she began to tell Gioliva’s story.
Chapter Nine
Caya half closed her eyes and prepared to let the inner voice that was Gioliva’s take over. It wasn’t like being possessed because Caya was still in charge, but she needed to share the old woman’s personal story or it might get stuck in her mind and heart forever. She had held Gioliva so very close for a long time, allowing her mind to absorb all the memories while trying to keep her alive. The fact that she’d ultimately failed tore at her, and perhaps it would serve her right to carry Gioliva inside her for the rest of her life. That would drive her crazy, and she wouldn’t be of further assistance to Pathfinder’s passengers—or Thea.
“Be careful, Caya,” Thea whispered and squeezed Caya’s hand.
Not quite sure how she was supposed to be careful, Caya clung to Thea. She fixated on the wall behind Thea, and then it was as if she transported through time and place, ending up among barracks, where the rain whipped at her face.
“Move!” a gruff male voice says, and she feels a hard hand push from behind. “How the hell are we going to feed all these people?” a man behind her growls. “There are thousands and thousands of them, and that’s just in our sector.”
“I know. I don’t care what these Gemosians say we’re responsible for. I sure as hell have never even been close to red garnet. And if they were so stupid that they used it to mine for minerals on their only moon, that’s hardly Loghia’s fault.”
“I hear you, brother. I think it’s their own damn fault that their moon blew up and their planet became uninhabitable. That’s what happens to ignorant fools.”
Furious now, Gioliva pivots, and the two Loghian guards nearly stumble over each other to stop from trampling her. “Even if you have none, or very little, empathy for the disaster that has befallen my people, you could at least get your facts straight,” Gioliva says, her voice steady. “A Loghian state-owned company sold the red garnet, singing its praises and stating, above all, how safe and stable it was.”
The taller of the guards sneers. “How the hell would you know anything about that, old woman?”
“Because until ten days ago, I was the head of my family business. One of the biggest construction firms on Gemosis. I know what red garnet can do, as well as white and black garnet. I also know that the manufacturers on Loghia are ruthless and ready to do just about anything for profit.”
“Profit, huh? Croy? Did you hear what little old Grandmother here is trying to sell us?” the tall guard says to his colleague. “If she’s such a big shot, why does she look like a street beggar?”
“Because I was washed up from the ocean onto a tiny island in the sea.” Gioliva straightens her back despite the searing pain. She glances down at her clothes and has to agree she looks ragged.
“What do you want?” the shorter guard asks, sounding exasperated. “You’re holding up the line.”
“Not much,” Gioliva says. “Just that you treat us as you would like to be treated if you were in our shoes. None of us is to blame for the red-garnet incident that destroyed my homeplanet. If we recognize this, we might stand a better chance of understanding each other.”
“Or you can shut your mouth and keep walking, Grandmother.” The tall guard chuckles at his fast comeback. He pushes her hard again, and Gioliva would have fallen without a man standing just in front of her catching her.
“Don’t even bother with them,” the stranger, a Gemosian like herself, says, his voice tinged with dismay. “We’ve never been on good terms with the Loghians.”
“There is always hope,” Gioliva mutters but has to concede that these particular guards may be hopeless cases.
Caya gasped, and for a moment she saw Thea, who looked so beautiful and had a concerned expression. She wanted to say she was all right and ask if she was able to narrate any part of Gioliva’s story, but her vision overtook her senses and sent her back to the Loghian refugee camp.
“I can’t take this, Gioliva. You haven’t eaten all day.” Maloah, the young woman Gioliva has befriended, implores her to take back her evening ration, but she refuses.
“You’re pregnant, child. You need this to sustain your little one. He or she is going to be born into this godforsaken place and will need what advantages we can offer him.”
“But not at your expense.” Maloah wipes at her ever-flowing tears. “It doesn’t feel right.”
Gioliva is hungry. Her stomach hurts, and just surviving on water of undeterminable quality is not a wise strategy in the long run. The fact remains that she is old. Maloah and her baby have hopefully a long life ahead of them if the Oconodians launch their ship in time. They all count the days until the Exodus ship comes to whisk them away to a bright new future. Until then, Gioliva is determined to help Maloah stay healthy. “Listen. Please make me happy by accepting my gift. I lost my entire family. Every single one. So did you, except for the miracle growing in your belly. Please let me help you keep him safe.”
“Oh, Gioliva.” Maloah hugs her, and she can feel the baby twist and turn within her young friend.
Back in the visitor’s room, Caya fumbled blindly for her cold tea. Thea held the glass to her lips, and she drank, suddenly so parched, she can hardly speak. “Th-thank you.”
“Are you sure you can go on?” Thea put down the glass and cupped her cheeks. “This is taking such a toll on you, I can tell.”
“Have to.” That was all Caya managed to say before she was within Gioliva again.
“Next group!” A female guard barks the order, and Gioliva steps forward together with nine other naked women. Once a week, their barracks go through an inspection. The Loghian claim it’s for their own good, but Gioliva doubts it. She sees it as a way for their “hosts” to wield their power and emphasize their superiority.
Now the female guard strolls along the line of shivering women, inspecting them. Maloah stands next to her, looking terrified as the guard stops in front of her, tapping her chin with her sting-rod, every guard’s favorite weapon for controlling crowds of Gemosians. Gioliva has heard rumors h
ow painful a sting delivered by such a rod is and how it can actually damage someone of Gemosian descent. Loghians and Gemosians look alike on the surface, but the internal makeup is different enough that such weapons as the sting-rods, which are harmless to Loghians, can be lethal to sensitive Gemosians.
“I can tell you haven’t far to go,” the guard says now, smiling in a way that makes Gioliva highly suspicious. “You know, having an infant in a camp like this is going to be very hard. Too hard on a girl your age. You have no husband or even family. You won’t be able to apply for work in our djorgo-fields. As you know, this is something every able-bodied person must do. Once you’ve given birth, you are considered able-bodied. We have an agency that places Gemosian newborns with loving Loghian parents.”
“What? Give my baby away, you mean? I will never do that!” Maloah starts weeping. “You can’t make me.”
“Of course not. But you have to be in the field, tending to the djorgo. Your child will starve and freeze to death when you’re gone—”
“That’s a scare tactic,” Gioliva says, furious. “You might have to go into the fields, but you are not without a family. You have me, and I may not be able-bodied, but I’m strong enough to take care of your baby. We will find a way to extract your milk, and I will feed it to your child. Do not agree to give up your child. This scruple-free excuse for a woman—” Gioliva saw the sting-rod swing toward her and knew this would be painful.
Caya fell forward into Thea’s lap, moaning at the memory of how the tip of the sting-rod sent fire along every single nerve ending throughout her body.
“Caya! This has to stop. I can’t bear to see you suffer like this.” Thea stroked Caya’s hair back and bent over her. “Please.”
“There is only one more part I need to share. I have to, or it might linger with me forever. And Gioliva deserves it. Bear with me, Thea. I beg you.” Caya gripped the fabric in Thea’s caftan, wrinkling it in her fists as the last vision gripped her.
The little boy sleeps in Gioliva’s arms when the strange men storm into the barrack. Gioliva knows instantly it is one of the brutal gangs she’s heard of from other people at the food and water stations. Gangs that bribe the guards to turn their heads while they ransack the barracks. They most often do it during the day, when only small children and the sick or elderly are present and everyone else is out in the djorgo-fields.
She quickly tucks Maloah’s two-month-old son under the bed, where they have a basket for this purpose, and covers him lightly with a blanket. Praying to gods she often has had reason to question during her long life, she begs for the child to stay asleep and not make a sound. Gioliva has never wanted to believe in the rumors of stolen Gemosian infants, but now she’s not about to risk it.
“Line up over here,” the man Gioliva surmises is the leader roars. “Don’t get in our way and you won’t get hurt.”
Gioliva highly doubts that but steps out into the aisle, standing at the foot of her and Maloah’s bunk bed. She can’t remember ever being this afraid. Glancing at the other elderly in the barrack, she hopes they won’t cave and tell the looters about the baby. She is even more worried about the eight young children. They won’t understand the importance of keeping quiet about the youngest of them.
“So. What do we have here? The men start overturning mattresses, feeling through the blankets for anything hidden. “Damn, it stinks in here. Don’t you people ever bathe?”
Used to such insults, nobody in the barrack responds. Clearly it rarely dawns on anyone not living under these conditions that water is a rare commodity, not to mention soap.
“No valuables to speak of, Boss,” one of the female gang members says and holds up a small pouch. She eyes the closest child, a three-year-old girl. “This one might bring in a few lodiochs.”
Gioliva goes rigid. The little girl’s parents are in the djorgo-fields, and all the elderly take turns looking after her and the other children in the barrack. In return, the ones working the djorgo-fields share some of their slightly bigger rations with them. Gioliva refuses to take any food allotment meant for Maloah. She needs to help keep Maloah strong enough to work and feed her child. Now Gioliva looks on in horror as the threatening woman takes the thin little girl and roughly bends her head back with a fist full of curly hair.
“She’s pretty for a Gemosian. Teeth are good. These clothes are dirty but of good quality. She must stem from a good family—that will increase her value even if she’s a bit old.”
“Leave her alone.” Gioliva doesn’t realize she is the one speaking with such a thunderous voice until the words are out.
“Shut up, old woman,” the female looter says and lifts the girl, who now realizes something terrible is about to happen and howls for her parents.
“Put her down,” Gioliva says and walks toward the woman holding the child. Thinking frantically of what to say to save the child, she places her hands in the Loghian position for warding off evil spirits. “It isn’t safe for you to be that close to her.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” The woman runs her eyes up and down Gioliva’s slight form and then back to the girl. “She looks healthy enough.”
“Looks can deceive. The camp physicians are testing her for a multitude of viruses. As you must be well aware, Loghians are highly sensitive to some of the Gemosian common viruses. This young girl is coming down with something, and she’s in the most infectious phase. It hasn’t quite broken out yet—but it will.” Gioliva does her best to sound ominous and truthful but isn’t sure the woman believes her.
The little girl’s eyes well up with tears, and as if on cue, her soft little flat nose starts to run as well. The woman drops her unceremoniously on the ground and backs up fast as the child begins to scream. Gioliva hurries to pick up the girl, pressing her close to her. Her heart thunders as she fears the commotion might wake up Manoah’s baby.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here. And get rid of that,” the leader says and points at the pouch of small valuables. “If one of them has some of those pest viruses, we can’t risk using anything in here.” The woman groans and tosses it on the nearest bunk bed. They leave, slamming the door shut behind them. The baby gives a startled cry under the bed.
Gioliva prays the other children’s crying will drown out the baby’s wailing; they have all joined in now, frightened at how close one of them came to being abducted. Gioliva holds the girl close to her still as she retrieves the basket. Earlier, she has made knots on each corner of his blanket, and now she tucks one of them into his mouth, hoping he will suck on it. The tiny boy twists his head back and forth and draws a deep breath to launch another displeased howl when the little girl sticks two small fingers into his mouth. His eyes wide, the baby grabs her hand and holds it tight while sucking at her fingers.
Gioliva kisses the girl’s head. “How did you know to do that, child?”
“Manoah told me he likes my fingers.” The girl shudders. “He can’t cry. The bad woman might hear him and come back and take him away—and me too.”
Gioliva hugs the children to her, vowing she will give her life rather than let any Gemosian child be torn from their parent and sold on the black market.
Shaking, Caya pushed up, drawing deep breaths. “She did that today. She gave her life to save the others. And she gave of herself to me when I held her and all the time I tried to keep her stable. I calmed her, kept her breathing slowly, tried to help her not panic or give in to the pain as the white garnet traveled through her system. I thought if I could help her remain calm, I’d buy her time.”
“You did more than anyone could ever ask of you.” Thea stroked Caya’s shoulders and captured her gaze. “Please don’t blame yourself. This woman, Gioliva, was clearly extraordinary. I wish I’d been able to meet her. And thanks to you, I did, in a way.” Thea held Caya gently by her arms. “You are fearless. This is not the time for me to go into how you frightened me today, or punish you, but I want you to realize I didn’t take it lightly whe
n I discovered you were not in your quarters.” She raised a hand, making Caya shrink as she could tell Thea was struggling to harness a slow burning anger. “You and I both know there was an elevated risk for you to run into someone with a sinister motive.” Squeezing her eyes closed, Thea sighed. “But you didn’t. Instead we are all grateful to you and Briar for helping save a lot of people, the hospital—perhaps even the entire cube.”
“It’s not over. This is only the beginning. We haven’t found the redheaded woman yet. I’ll have to prepare myself for more visions as her fate may have changed because we interfered today.” Caya was so tired now, she could barely move. She merely sat there, half slumped against Thea. “Don’t you have places to be, people to brief, minions to scare witless?” Caya attempted a faint smile in case Thea didn’t realize she was joking.
“I certainly do, but right now, being here with you is more important.” Thea pushed an errant lock of hair from Caya’s forehead. The touch was whisper-light but still created what felt like a mini bolt of lightning along Caya’s nerve endings. This time, the touch had nothing to do with her clairvoyant capabilities, but rather the way Thea had locked her eyes on Caya. When had her expression gone from concerned and reassuring, to this dark, opaquely unreadable gaze?
“I want you to rest before you attempt any more visions.” True to form, Thea wasn’t asking.
“Sometimes the visions find me no matter how I try to forestall them.” Caya worked every day on harnessing her ability to read the future, most of all because she wanted to learn to control it, rather than the other way around. She was getting better at it, but still, some visions forced themselves on her.
“I know. Just don’t feel pressured into thinking we all depend on your abilities.”
“I’m truly not that presumptuous,” Caya said and had to smile again. “But if I can save even one soul for doing the right thing at the right time, I’m going to do it. It’s my fate, Thea. No matter what you think, or how you try to protect me, my fate will find me, and my destiny will create a way for me to follow.”
