Behind, a laz-rifle clicked and charged. Rayne stepped into the open doorway, and a laz-bolt seared above Sarrin’s head. An instant later, Rayne slumped, succumbing to the neuro-gas. Two of Hoepe’s men rushed in, catching her and binding her hands as she lost consciousness.
Kieran started to cough and wheeze on the floor beside Sarrin. Feet rushed all around them, and Kieran was lifted up and carried away.
A gentle hand hovered over her arm, keeping a space between them as he pressed a breathing mask to her face. Hoepe leaned in, “It’s good to see you, Sarrin.”
* * *
Kieran let himself be pushed into the dark room. His vision blurred from the stinging tears and the scratched faceplate of the breathing mask they’d put on him before binding his hands.
His heart hammered in his chest, and his breath came in gasps. He searched frantically for Rayne, but the men had taken her in the opposite direction when they led him and Sarrin across the wide-open hangar.
He blinked, trying to replay the scene, the whole thing still a blur in his mind. He suspected Sarrin had known they would be there, even before the gas started pouring from the grenade. How? How did she know to surrender? That they would be friendly? Were they friendly?
He took a deep breath, as the hand gripping him tightened and directed him into a dark, narrow corridor. He couldn’t afford to panic. He had to observe.
Kieran stumbled over a half-step, the guard spinning him against a wall and pushing him down. The ropes dug into his wrists as he jerked and landed hard on the ground. “Who are you?” he asked, caution warring with panic. The man pulled the mask off, and he repeated the question. The guard patted him on the cheek and left.
Sarrin sat to his left. An extraordinarily tall, hook-nosed man leaned over her, whispering in her ear. She nodded once in response. After a few days working in engineering, he had no doubt she was smart as a whip, but she was weird as anything. He tried to take comfort from her seemingly relaxed posture, but his hands still trembled uncontrollably.
“What’s going on?” he asked her.
Her eyes shut as she leaned her head back against the wall. Either she hadn’t heard or she chose to ignore him.
A muffled shout drew his attention to the opposite side of the room where Gal and Halud sat side-by-side, hands tied. Halud had a binder tied over his mouth, and he looked wide-eyed-terrified.
The hook-nosed man bent down to untie Halud. “Don’t scream,” he said to the Poet, pulling off the gag. “I really hate that.”
Halud lunged forwards. “What have you done?”
The man flicked him once in the neck, and Halud’s eyes went wide, clutching at his throat as though he suddenly couldn’t breathe at all.
Kieran gasped, throwing himself back against the wall, as though he could hide there. His training had not covered this situation. They weren’t supposed to be involved, just watch, just observe.
“Where’s Rayne?” shouted Gal.
Hook-nose turned, twisting another point on the Poet’s neck, who gasped and panted. The man moved to Gal, reaching to untie him next. A single eyebrow arched as high and angular as the rest of his face. “Your friend panicked and was subject to a sedative gas — she is being cared for and will recover in a few hours.”
He stood, brushing his hands over his crisp trousers. A vein bulged in his neck as he took a deep, calming breath. “My name is Hoepe. The Poet requested my assistance and that is what I intend to give. Had you not made such a foolish trespass into our warehouse, we would not have had to go through this charade. I am sorry this is the welcome you have received.”
The man, Hoepe, moved to Kieran, and he tucked his hands in tight to his body. Gently, Hoepe pried the hands out and released the ties.
Blood stung painfully as the circulation returned to Kieran’s hand. At the last minute, he remembered to look up and scan the man’s face, noting it’s intensely crystalline eyes, sharp features, and the shadow of pale blonde stubble.
“Relax,” Hoepe whispered. He also patted Kieran on the cheek, quirking the corner of his mouth before he stood and turned away.
Kieran found himself frozen, breathing heavily. Definitely more than he’d bargained for. He wondered if there was a communication array he could access, or if he was going to die here without his family ever knowing what happened to him. Did he know what was happening to him?
Hoepe spoke again, hand on the door. “You are not in danger, I promise you. I would appreciate if you waited here until the boys bring your ship into the hangar. We tracked your entire approach and, while the soldiers at the outpost may not be bright, they’re bound to notice sooner or later. You understand I can’t take risks.” The door sealed behind as he left.
“What’s going on?” Kieran asked again. No one answered, and he glanced to his left, where Sarrin sat, her forearm rubbing across her opposite arm, fingers pinching periodically. Her hands were free — had they even been tied in the first place?
Her eyes opened a slit, and she glanced at him, tilting her head in an expressionless gesture. Wait, it seemed to say. So, he pressed his palms together, resigned. She had pushed him out of the way once, he had to hope she was doing it again.
Halud jumped to his feet. “I don’t like this at all, Galiant.” He crossed the room to Sarrin’s side in an instant, reaching to brush away an errant strand of hair.
Sarrin pushed away from his touch, nearly bumping into Kieran.
Halud stared at her, leaning forward on his knees until he seemed to think better of it and bounced to his feet. He started to run his hands over every panel that made up the smooth wall. “We have to get out of here.”
Gal made an odd noise, his body trembling. “Rayne?” he mumbled, rubbing his head in his shaking hands.
“What’s going on?” Kieran tried again, louder.
The door to the room opened again. A man brought in a pitcher of water and set it on the floor. He raised an eyebrow at Halud, caught red-handed searching the wall, and grinned. “Boss must like you.” He pointed to the water. “This stuff is hard to come by on Contyna.”
Halud stared after the man, waiting until the door shut behind him. He took two strides to the centre of the room, and sent the pitcher flying, water crashing across the floor.
Sarrin leapt to her feet, water and shards of ceramic splashing over her and Kieran.
“Oh!” Halud scrambled, reaching for her arm. His other hand reached towards the smashed pitcher at the same time. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I just —.”
“I told you this was a fool plan,” Gal said, his voice straining as he stood.
Halud turned, staring at Gal. “Then you should have said from the beginning.”
“I did.” Gal looked past the Poet, pointing a finger at Kieran. “Where is Rayne?”
Kieran jumped, pulling this legs in close to his chest. “I don’t know.”
“If anything happens to her….” The captain turned his wrath on the Poet, scowling.
“You’re not the only one with people to look after,” Halud said.
“I was looking after my people just fine until you came along.” Gal and Halud stood chest to chest, posturing for a fight.
Kieran felt dizzy — definitely more than he bargained for. He shut his eyes, and tried to envision the long, stretching and rusting corridors of his youth, the smile of his mother at his safe return home.
“This isn’t something we can deny,“ said the Poet. “You know as well as anyone we have a duty to do what is right. No matter the risks.”
“I’m not following your ‘Path,’” Gal spit. “Rayne’s not here, so let’s call it like it is.”
Kieran’s ears perked up, and he told his internal freak-out to hush, just until he heard this.
“I thought you’d be happy to be here, working for this” — the Poet held out his hands — “for a mission you abandoned so many years ago.”
Gal paused, then growled, “You don’t know a thing about me. You’re a
cracked fool, Poet. If you’d asked me, I would have told you to leave it all alone. You don’t know a thing about Hap Lansford and the other Speakers, you only think you do.”
“For Gods’sake, she’s my sister. What was I supposed to do?”
Gal went white. “Your sister?”
Kieran blinked, turning to the girl. Sarrin’s hands dangled lamely by her sides, her face turned up to the ceiling, eyes darting back and forth, blissfully ignorant of the screaming fight beside her. There was an uncanny similarity between the raging Poet and the strange girl.
“Don’t you understand?” pleaded Halud.
“You don’t understand — you’ve sentenced everyone to death. Me, you, your cracked sister. Rayne.” Gal buried his face in his hands. “We can’t cross them. They’re too powerful.”
A tremor of fear shot through Kieran, good sense telling him to run far and fast, but he stayed listening. He’d been waiting for this, praying for something interesting to report home.
“You survived,” said Halud. “You’re still here.”
Gal froze, eyes wide with terror.
Halud grabbed him by the shoulder. “What would John P have done? Not this. What happened to you?”
Spinning to action, Gal pushed Halud away from him, eyes gleaming. “You’re a cracked fool to follow the rebel!”
Halud crashed into the wall so close Kieran had to dive out of the way. Sarrin’s eyes shifted, meeting his for a millisecond.
Halud pushed himself back up. “I came for your help, Gal.”
“Trust me, that’s the last thing anybody wants.” Gal swung his arms out blindly, as though he could physically push the entire situation away. He swung and swung, like a maniac, until he crouched down, pawing along the ground. “Where in the Deep is it?”
“Where’s what?”
“Back off, Poet.”
“Your flask?” Halud shouted. “It’s hardly time for a drink, if that’s what you’re after.”
“It spreading-well is!”
Sarrin caught Kieran’s attention with a cough. She pointed at a fixture in the ceiling, then she shrugged and sat down. They had been looking for a way out, is that what she saw?
Kieran’s pulse pounded in his ears. Bewilderment replaced fear, and he watched the scene in fascination, unable to react, unable to think.
“We need to get out of here,” said the Poet.
“We need to never have been here,” Gal said coldly, still searching on the floor. “You have no idea what happens to people who defy the Gods, who stray from the Gods’ Path.”
“I’m the Poet Laureate of the United Earth Central Army!”
“The most useless job I’ve ever heard of.”
“I’ve written the words of the Gods!”
Gal climbed to his feet, pressing a finger into Halud’s chest. “You’ve written whatever Hap Lansford told you to write. You’re a dirty pawn.”
“Sometimes you have to play in the system.”
“Fool.”
Halud grabbed Gal’s wrist, voice dangerous, “At least I know what I believe in.”
They stood toe-to-toe, huffing at each other.
Kieran pushed off the floor before he could think about what he was doing. If he stayed, if he tried to figure this whole thing out, it would be far easier if the main players didn’t kill each other. “Knock it off. I’m sure we can agree that we need to find a way out. You can argue later.”
Both men turned on him, chests heaving.
A deep baritone voice spoke behind them, and Kieran realized he hadn’t even heard the door as Hoepe entered. “Wise words. Your ship is here. We took the liberty of removing the tracking device from your hull.” He smiled grimly. “You’re lucky the imbeciles at the outpost never bother to check their scanners, or we would have had more serious problems than whatever spat you’re having.” He turned to Halud, voice dropping even lower. “Master Poet, I trust we can get on amicably from here. I have a low tolerance for stupidity, and while I am keen to help, I had not expected such childish behaviour. I don’t say this to be cruel, but because you have put my men in danger multiple times today, and I cannot allow that. Do we understand each other?”
Halud gritted his teeth, bristling, but his head dropped and he nodded mutely.
“Good. Sutherland will show you the facility.”
The Poet swallowed noisily.
Hoepe gestured to Gal and Kieran, “You are free to return to your ship. Your friend is there, along with your effects. Sutherland can show you where to find tools for your repairs.”
Kieran pushed himself to his feet, as Gal scurried out of the room followed hastily by Halud. Sarrin had already disappeared. Kieran found himself alone, standing alarmingly close to Hoepe — maybe a captor, maybe a friend.
Hoepe twitched the corner of his mouth, in what Kieran presumed should have been a smile, except none of the man’s facial features moved other than the lip, and even that was easy to miss.
He fell back on his training, as he stared into the much taller man’s eyes, determined to figure it all out: Be friendly. Don’t be a threat. Kieran forced a grin onto his face, teeth and all. He clapped the man on the back as he passed. “Thanks, buddy.”
* * *
Hoepe Fallows — trauma surgeon turned smuggler — sat across the table from a silent Halud DeGazo, brother of Sarrin DeGazo, prodigy. The wide interior windows of his second floor office looked over the newly acquired freightship that sat in his hangar, and it was there that Halud kept turning his attention.
Hoepe cleared his throat. “How did you find her?”
Halud’s pulse sped in the contours of his neck, pupils dilated — a fear-fuelled adrenaline surge. Perhaps Hoepe had been too harsh earlier. He filed the thought for future consideration.
“Where is she?” asked the Poet.
“I’m uncertain.”
“What?”
Hoepe shrugged — an affable gesture the others indicated made them feel more comfortable. “The entire warehouse is safe, and I doubt she will leave, although the rest of the planet is not particularly dangerous either. We have business to discuss. I’m curious how you located her.”
“What? I haven’t seen her since you locked us up in that cell. We need to be out looking for her, not in here discussing business!”
Hoepe frowned. Somehow the Poet had done what he had not been able to, but the way the Poet tried his patience might have been more trouble than he was worth. “You’ve already agreed to trust me. I’ve known Sarrin a long time, she can take care of herself. Besides, I would hardly consider a storage room with an unlocked door a cell,” he said, feeling that should be the end of this inane conversation.
“You don’t understand. They’ve done something to her, she can’t even speak.”
He dismissed the thought with a flick of his hand. “She’s always been terse.”
“You don’t know her, she was always bubbly, quick to laugh. Quick to tease.”
Hoepe pressed his lips together, drawing up an empathetic statement. “I understand it’s been several years. I cannot imagine —.”
“Where is she?”
He sighed. Unlike his crew who were all straight to work, the Poet was definitely more trouble that he was worth. “Probably in the walls, checking the wiring.”
“What?”
“You asked where she was, and I have hazarded a guess that I think is most likely based on my experience.”
Halud stared at him.
“Now, business.” He hadn’t intended to rush, but some of what he needed to discuss was time-sensitive. “I require your assistance to take advantage of a unique opportunity.”
“What do you mean, ‘unique opportunity’?”
“There is a mission I need your help with.”
Halud stared at him, but remained silent.
“You have noticed some colonies do well and some do not,” Hoepe continued.
The Poet held out a hand as though he were preaching. “It is t
he Will of the Gods.”
“Hardly. One does not wait for success, one takes it. There are those that have what is given to them, and those who find ways to obtain what they need.”
Halud frowned. “You want me to steal something.”
“Yes.”
“That was never part of the agreement. I won’t be a part of it. To steal from our neighbours is against the Gods.”
Hoepe raised a single eyebrow. “You have already stolen an entire person from the Gods.”
“That’s different.”
“Not at all. The trouble with living out here in the Black is food: there is never enough. Just step outside, everyone is bone thin, bordering on malnutrition. We need food to feed the people of Contyna. That’s the only way the colony survives. We steal so they can live. Surely, the Gods appreciate this.”
“I want no part in it.”
“You are certainly not ingratiating yourself to me, Poet.”
Halud looked away, staring across the open hangar. “I’m a poet, not a thief. You’ve got your band of thugs to do that for you. What do you really want from me?”
Hoepe licked the corner of his lips. “You’re correct, there is something else. An opportunity too good to waste.”
“What is it, then?”
“I have word a ship will be passing through in a few days time, resupplying for training maneuvers. My crew will be going to steal the supplies and create a diversion. I want you and Sarrin to download the database core.”
“A database?” Halud rocked back in his chair. “You want information.”
“Correct. I am a smuggler — rations, clothes, water — but none of it interests me as much as information.”
“I could give you information.” Halud turned to him again. “We don’t have to board a ship for that. I know all kinds of secrets.”
Hoepe raised an eyebrow, “Very useful, indeed, Poet. But I am looking for something specific, something you would not know.”
“There’s very little I do not know.”
“This you don’t.”
“Try me.”
A spine! thought Hoepe, the Poet did have one, even if it was quite flexible. “I’m looking for others like your sister.”
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