The Jump Point

by Anthony James

  This place was like nothing Mahra had ever imagined. It was an expanse of metal and oil and machinery. There were several vessels of the same type as had brought her here parked across the bay, and between them walked small groups of men, with similar looks and attire to her captors. All around, the noise of metal upon metal struck at her senses and everywhere was a smell of steel and oil.

  She looked upward and could barely make out the vault of a roof above their heads. The metal floor stretched out in both directions as far as she could see. She had little time for observation though, for she was grabbed roughly from behind and propelled forward with a shove between her shoulders. She slowed for a moment and she was rewarded with another shove, pushing her stumbling forward again.

  All the people in this place were the same. They were dressed in long black boots and dark coloured padded leathers. Most wore their hair long and mostly it was matted and knotted about their heads. Not all carried weapons, but many did, either held loosely by their sides or slung across one shoulder with a strap. Her passage attracted one or two curious glances, but for the most part, it was as if she was beneath their attention

  Finally, they reached one end of the vast parking area and she was shoved roughly again toward a doorway. There was a legend painted against the door in an unfamiliar script. Her original captor grabbed her by the shoulder, signalling her to wait. He turned, slapped palms with his companions who each departed, going their separate ways. He then played with a control to the side and leaned forward to speak something into a small recess above the panel. Immediately the door slid open and she was ushered forward into a long corridor stretching off into the distance.

  As soon as they stepped inside, the door ground shut again sealing firmly behind them. Plucking up her courage as they walked, she finally found the strength to speak.

  "Where are you taking me?" she asked, trying to sound defiant, but keeping her eyes fixed in front of her so as not to lose her resolve.

  "Oh ho. So, it speaks as well as squeaks. You'll find out soon enough."

  "But why — "

  "Enough talk." He cut her off and shoved her forward again for emphasis. Biting her lip, Mahra lapsed into silence.

  They reached their destination soon enough. Her escort stopped at another doorway and pulled her roughly back to stand beside him. There was nothing to distinguish this doorway from any other. Again, he leaned forward, manipulated the small panel sitting beside the door, and spoke into the recess. Again, the door slid open in response, this time revealing a small room. Lounging in a chair just behind the doorway was another man. He looked up as the door slid open and nodded to her captor. She was handed over without a word. Another door was opened and Mahra was pushed unceremoniously inside. The door hissed shut behind her.

  This new room was large and it lacked furnishing, but as she stood in the doorway, she saw several people huddled disconsolately against the walls. One or two bore the marks of fresh injuries and mostly they were men. She recognized none of the faces, but she didn't need to look twice to know that all were from The Cradle. She could feel their rightness, so different from those outside. Mahra stood looking from face to face, not venturing to ask how they came to be here, receiving a brief nod from one or two, but mostly blankness.

  Suddenly, Mahra was awash with despair. What could she do if those who were so much older and wiser than herself had come to this? She wanted to collapse in a heap on the floor and giving way to her feelings. She was on the verge of doing just that when she spotted a figure sitting a little apart from the rest, deep in the shadows of one corner. The solitary figure was dressed in robes of black.

  Quickly she strode across and crouched in front of him. It couldn't be anyone else.

  "Hello, Aleyin," she said quietly.

  "Hello, Mahra," he said just as quietly, barely raising his head to look at her. "I had hoped you got away. Welcome to the exalted company of survivors."

  "Where are we Aleyin? What is this place?"

  "Sit," he said patting the floor beside him. He waited until she was seated beside him before continuing.

  "We're on board a ship, Mahra — their ship. Bound for I don't know where. That is if we're bound for anywhere. See what has become of the great dreams of The Cradle? Where is their perfect society now?" He lapsed into silence, tracing patterns on the cold floor between his feet with the tip of one finger.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well look at us, this fine collection. It is not much left of a world, is it? I doubt there'll be many more. Most will have been at the Dome. It's my guess that we few are all there is. Can't you feel the emptiness?" he asked. Sadness tinged his voice.

  Mahra realised he was right. There was something missing and she could feel the lack. She hadn't noticed it before now. There was a space there as if something that belonged had been moved, something that she didn't notice directly except by its absence. She was reminded of the Old One's passing, and it made her even sadder.

  "Why has this happened? Why would anyone want to do this to us?"

  "Oh, Mahra, I don't know why. No, I don't know why, and I don't know who. But I do know how. It has something to do with what I talked to you about that day when we met, about the differences I had with the Old One. We were vulnerable, always, to that which was denied us. Can you not see now? If we knew about these things, these machines, and these weapons, then we might have been prepared. We might have been able to deal with it," he said, stabbing at the floor with his last few words. Mahra bit her lip. He looked up at her, a humourless smile on his face. "And now, here we all are." He sighed.

  A few others had turned to watch them, drawn by the passion of Aleyin's words. One or two shook their heads and looked away, but a stern-faced, greying woman continued looking. Finally, she narrowed her eyes and spoke.

  "So, you're still trying to fill other's heads with your nonsense, Aleyin Amarr. Even now. Even in the face of all this. Leave the child be."

  "And what nonsense would that be, Lilliath Graydan? Things that you could not face," Aleyin answered angrily. "Look where your precious creed has got us."

  "Enough from both of you!" snapped an older voice from the side near the door. "What good does it do now?"

  Both Aleyin and the woman called Lilliath glared at each other across the intervening space then dropped their gaze, grudgingly acceding to the authority of the old man's voice.

  All thought of further talk was quickly put to rest as a deep humming grew in the walls and floor. Moments later, the vast bulk around them slowly started to move and she could feel herself being pressed down against the floor and back against the metal of the wall behind her.

  ֍

  It was some time before the noise about them subsided to a level where conversation was possible. Until that time, they were forced to bear the noise and the sensations of their movement in silence. Mahra felt the despair that surrounded the group of captives huddled against the walls and corners of their holding area, pressed against the cold metal with eyes full of fear. At last, the noise subsided to a dull rumble, low enough to allow conversation. She took a moment to distract Aleyin from his thoughts. He dragged his gaze reluctantly from the floor somewhere in front of his feet.

  "Aleyin, where are they taking us?"

  "I don't know, Mahra," he answered with a sigh. "I don't know. If we were given access to a little more knowledge about what lies beyond The Cradle, I might have some idea. I'm afraid that I have as many questions as you do. I doubt either of us will get the answers until we reach wherever it was we're going."

  "But who are they, and why did they want to do what they have done to us?"

  "Another question that will remain unanswered for the time being, I'm afraid. Somebody obviously has some idea about who these people are and the fact that something was going to happen on The Cradle though," he said. He narrowed his eyes pointedly in the direction of the grey-headed woman who spoke earlier. "They just didn't feel fit to tell anyone."

>   "Why? What makes you say that?" Mahra asked, following his glance.

  "Well, it is fairly obvious isn't it, if you think about it? The message. The gathering. Why do you think it was so urgent? There hasn't been a gathering like that since, well, I don't know. There was definitely something going on, and for something to have been going on, somebody had to know something. There was knowledge behind that meeting."

  Both lapsed into silence. Mahra didn't really know enough to speculate about the broader scheme of those who shaped what happened on The Cradle. She wondered what the Old One would have done in this situation, but she was dragged from her thoughts by the voice of one of the older members of their ragged group.

  "Please, can I have your attention?"

  He was a tall thin man with snow-white hair and he rose to his feet with obvious difficulty. His robe was dirt-smeared and an ugly purpling bruise marred his jawline.

  "We do know something about our captors, but only that they are employed by another. They are merely mercenaries working for someone else. We already know from experience that we should expect little sympathy from them. Now, despite what we do know, I can't tell you where we are being taken. We do know that whatever, we must not offer them the sort of resistance that would provoke further violence. The knowledge we have among us is too valuable to risk."

  There were nods of assent from among the older members of the group.

  "For this reason, we must survive. Each of you must take every step to ensure that you survive to carry our knowledge beyond what has happened here. If that means a sacrifice of principles, then so be it. Do I have your agreement?"

  He scanned the bleak faces that lined the walls waiting until each slowly nodded assent.

  Mahra didn't understand what the old man was talking about. She frowned a query to Aleyin who merely shook his head. The old man looked satisfied beneath his obvious pain and carefully eased himself back to sit before leaning his head back and closing his eyes.

  They sat again in silence for some time, then Aleyin gripped her hand and spoke in a low whisper.

  "Mahra, I've been thinking. I want to show you something. It's just a little trick, but I want you to know it in case we get separated. It might help you. Remember I said I could show you things? Well this is one of them. I don't know how long we've got, so I want to show it to you now."

  Mahra gave him a puzzled look but waited to see what he might offer. Aleyin continued in the same low whisper.

  "I don't want the others to see that I'm showing you this, but circumstances prevent me doing it any other way. Now, I want you to concentrate on my eyes. Keep holding my hand. That's it. Right, now in a moment I want you to close your eyes. Not now. When I tell you. When you close your eyes, I want you to concentrate on my face. Call up an image of me in your mind, but at the same time try to keep your thoughts as free as possible from anything else. Do you think you can do that? Good. Close your eyes now."

  Mahra closed her eyes and tried to form an image of Aleyin's face. She found it difficult to concentrate and her thoughts flitted backward and forward, becoming cluttered with unwanted images. After a few moments, she gave up and opened her eyes.

  "No Mahra, keep trying. This is important."

  She tried again, closing her eyes, and attempting to calm her skittish thoughts. Finally, she could draw a picture of Aleyin's pale face in her head. She concentrated on filling in the detail, making the image clearer and clearer. She held the image tightly, concentrating on nothing else. It was difficult to hold the image and keep her mind clear of the other thoughts that constantly threatened to intrude.

  A moment later, she noticed a new sensation inside her head. It was like a buzzing, but it was broken up, fuzzy but regular. She tried to keep her attention focused on the image of Aleyin's face but the more she tried, the more the buzzing grew. It became regular and repetitive, following the same cadences over and over again. Slowly it became more distinct. Then, suddenly, it was as if she could make out words in the regular pattern of sounds.

  Mahra, can you hear me? Mahra, can you hear me?

  Her eyes flew open with shock. Aleyin was peering intently at her face.

  "B-but ... " she managed to stammer.

  "No," he whispered quietly, holding a finger to his lips. "Now, try it again. Don't say anything. Just close your eyes and try it again."

  Doing as she was told, she closed her eyes and tried to draw up the image of Aleyin's face. It was more difficult this time, her head filled with thoughts of what just happened. With some effort, she could frame Aleyin's face in her mind's eye. The buzzing grew in the back of her head and started to take shape.

  Mahra. Mahra. You can hear me now. Nod your head once slowly to show me. That's it. Now it's your turn. Start with my name. When I have it, I'll squeeze your hand. Concentrate. Direct the words at my image.

  The words in her head became clearer with each passing second. She found it difficult to control her excitement and concentrate on what she was supposed to do, but with a little effort, she managed. Focusing on the image of Aleyin's face, she directed one strong, clear thought at it — his name. Almost immediately she felt him squeeze her hand and she opened her eyes.

  "You are very quick, Mahra," Aleyin whispered. "No wonder the Old One held so much store in you. I can see how the two of you must have been very close with a talent like that. Do you think you could do it again?"

  Mahra immediately closed her eyes and framed Aleyin's face. Clearly, she directed her thoughts toward the image.

  Aleyin, you know I can. His squeeze of her hand was immediate and strong.

  "Good enough," he whispered, causing her to open her eyes and look at him again. "Remember it. And if ever you need me, you know what to do."

  She nodded, watching his face, and fixing it clearly in her mind as he dropped his gaze back to the floor between his feet and relaxed his grip on her hand.

  During the next few hours, the refugees were separated and led off one by one. The old man who spoke was the first to go. The door slid open and a swarthy, leather-clad soldier entered, looking around the room. As he looked in Mahra's direction, he paused for a moment as if considering something. Mahra's insides went cold as he fixed her with that calculating look. The process was repeated several times. Without warning, the door hissed open and a mercenary stepped in before making a selection and leading one of their number away. More than once, she found herself the subject of a lingering glance. Mahra started to guess what those looks contained.

  Only a small number of those who were taken away returned. The old man who was first was among them. Generally, it seemed that the older members were the ones who didn't come back. Mahra watched the faces of those who were led back in. She could sense rather than see the wildness haunting their eyes when they were led back in and it filled her with dread.

  Then it was her turn. The soldier entered the room as before, but this time he walked straight over to the corner where she and Aleyin sat, a little apart from the rest. This time the look was more than a lingering glance. The mercenary ran his gaze with deliberate slowness up and down her body, an unmistakable leer plastered over his face. He barely glanced at Aleyin.

  Mahra felt the panic rising inside her but she returned the look with her face devoid of emotion. A moment or two longer and she'd lose control, but he allowed her no time for that. In one deft moved his hand swept down, grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her to her feet. Aleyin stared fixedly ahead, failing to meet her eyes. Almost, she saw him give a brief shake of his head, but by then it was too late. She was dragged by her arm toward the door.

  That sour smell she noticed before was with her again as he dragged her down the corridor. He seemed to be in a rush to get her wherever she was being taken, for no matter how hard she tried to keep pace he dragged her on by the arm, wrenching her shoulder forward. She bit her lip against the pain and tried to keep herself from stumbling. He finally stopped before a door and gripping her strongly with one hand
, used his other to manipulate the mechanism that opened it. As the door hissed open, he dragged her forward and through, quickly turning to seal it after them, closing them both into semi-darkness.

  The mercenary had brought them to some sort of small living quarters. It was lit only dimly by a panel on one wall. A crude bunk and a cupboard were the only other pieces to break up the drab greenness of the small space. Roughly he lifted her with both hands and tossed her onto the bunk. Mahra felt a sense of horror growing inside her along with the fear. Suddenly she knew what was about to happen and she scrabbled backward on the bunk pressing herself tightly against the corner. The soldier seemed to find this amusing and he grinned at her in the darkness as he tossed the long matted strands of hair back from his face and started to fumble at the fastenings of his leathers. For some reason, they had allowed her to keep her blade. Up until now, she had not even thought of using it, but right then she remembered it and started to reach up. A resounding slap across her face made her head ring, and stunned her into inactivity.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Dark Falcon sat in orbit for several hours while Mahra and Sind waited for some sign of recovery from Pellis. It turned out to be a long night and Mahra had a lot to consider. The last thing she'd have picked the pair of them for was establishment. What with Pellis's flamboyance and that of The Dark Falcon itself, it was little wonder she found it slightly hard to accept. Chutzpah expressed his annoyance with her for ignoring him by chattering sternly in her left ear.

  "Oh, sorry Chutz," she said with a preoccupied crease of her brow. "Lot to think about."

  She absent-mindedly scratched him under the chin as she mulled over the new circumstances. This seemed to placate him and he clambered down from her shoulder to position himself in her lap. Very soon, his soft insistent purring grew and started to have its usual soothing effect, allowing her to think more easily.