by AM Scott
The slight vibration of the docking clamps releasing startled Saree. The gloved hand came around in front of her again and entered the commands to push them away from Lightwave. Then the hand engaged the trajectory back to Gliese and wrapped back around Saree’s right wrist. The material of the glove was smooth and soft, but the hand inside clamped down like a manacle.
Lightwave had to know she’d used the emergency release. Even if they hadn’t noticed, they’d see her thrusting away. Saree was absolutely sure. Captain Ruhger would surveil the space around them to prevent any sneak attacks. Who was the woman behind her? The voice sounded familiar, but her foggy brain couldn’t concentrate enough to figure it out.
Minutes passed and they thrust away from Lightwave without any communications. Lightwave should have contacted her by now. Maybe Hal had sent a distress signal of some sort? Why was Hal obeying this woman’s commands? Why wasn’t he trying some sort of abrupt maneuver to thrown the person behind her away or flood the entire cockpit with gas or something, anything? Was he worried about the slave collar killing her? Most of them could… Saree struggled to think, but without the pain, her thoughts drifted.
Movement at her back, a spinning motion. A blaster fired, setting alarms blaring. Intense pain hit her entire body, shocking every muscle. The alarms quit. A spraying sound followed, undoubtedly the fire-retardant system. Saree’s muscles seized—she just endured. Then collapsed when the pain finally stopped.
“Scholar, don’t try that again. With that collar, I can cause permanent damage. Such a tragedy, a vibrant young woman left a vegetable…”
Saree struggled to breathe, tears running down her face. Hal must have tried something—maybe a remote? She sagged against her restraints, her body exhausted, her mind slow and hazy. The tears on her face dried, the salt irritating her skin. Her shoulders ached from her body weight hanging on them. Saree used her shaky legs to push her body back, sagging against the seat back.
The shuttle jolted and shook—they were entering the atmosphere.
“Hah,” the woman softly huffed out.
Ferra. The woman was Mother Ferra. The disgraced Mother Ferra. Loreli had showed Saree Sister Lashtar’s discussion with Ruhger. Lashtar was adamant about not returning to the surface. Ferra must have decided to take matters into her own hands. That was why Hal hadn’t stopped them. Ferra had nothing left to lose. Hal was being extremely cautious. Why did Lightwave let them go? Saree blinked hard, trying to think, but her thoughts were heavy and slow, like trying to swim through emergency impact foam.
Saree tried to watch their travel along the programmed trajectory, but her concentration dissipated like ice in sunlit vacuum.
Shuddering woke her and she blinked at the landscape of the Badlands displayed in front of her—they were landing. She looked at the displayed trajectory. Right in the programmed position. Lightwave hadn’t attempted to communicate. Or maybe Hal intercepted the communication?
Ferra released her ankles and wrists from the seat. “Scholar, stand. I’m sure you have a day pack. Get it, fill all the bev-tainers you have with water and put them in the pack. And some energy bars. Pack lots, because if there’s not enough, you won’t get any. You also need a headlamp, hat, gloves and a jacket. Leave the fancy robes here.”
Saree did as she was told, still moving like she was on a heavy world. The drug was wearing off, but she was still sluggish. Walking to the galley, Saree noticed the sharp scent of burning plas, still wafting from the melted remote and floor tile, clearing her head slightly. Ferra stayed behind her the whole time, one hand on Saree’s lower back. As she pulled bars out of the galley cupboard, Saree kicked backward, but pain shot from the collar before she got her foot off the floor. She collapsed against the galley countertop, trying to pull the collar off. The pain stopped, finally, but Saree kept trying to pull the collar away. She had to get this thing off!
“Scholar, take your hands off the collar, or I’ll make it really hurt.”
She forced her fingers to relax and put her hands on the countertop next to her head, trying to blink away the tears of pain, gasping for air, every muscle in her body aching from the searing pain.
“Do not try that again. I am an expert in martial arts, Scholar, and I’m reading your muscles. I know what you’re attempting before you do. Even if I’m not touching you. Next time, the pain will be worse. Close the pack and put it on, Scholar.” Ferra’s voice remained completely cold and unemotional, an additional warning sign.
Blast and rad. She had no choice. Saree shrugged into the pack—it took some effort. All the water was heavy, but if they were going into the Gliese Badlands, they’d need it.
“Fix two meals, Scholar. Something fast.”
Saree pulled two prepacked protein wraps and pulled the heat strips. She choked hers down as quickly as possible, hearing Ferra do the same.
“Two glasses of water, Scholar. Drink now.”
She did, refilling hers again. Maybe she could wash the drug out.
“Sanitizer mod next.”
Ferra stayed behind her. Finally, Saree confirmed her abductor was Ferra—her image was clear in the mirror. Once they were both crowded inside, Ferra spun her around, examining her face. “You’re not surprised.” She scowled, then her face smoothed. “Ah. Scholar of Music. You recognized my voice.” Ferra cuffed her hands together in front of her. “Use the facilities now, Scholar, and remember I’ve got my hand on this button.” She waggled the control in front of Saree’s face. The controller was strapped to Ferra’s wrist, just a flat black oval on a plain black band. It wouldn’t be easy to get away from her, and it might be tied to her DNA or other biometrics.
Saree did as she was told, although it wasn’t easy with her hands cuffed and Ferra’s eyes on her. To distract herself, Saree examined her captor. Ferra wasn’t wearing the traditional robes. She appeared ready for action, in brown leggings, boots and a fitted long-sleeve shirt. Ferra was older, but clearly fit; the snug outfit outlined solid muscles.
“Stand with your face against the wall. Don’t move.”
She heard Ferra use the facilities. If she could see, she’d act, but obviously Ferra anticipated the possibility. Saree leaned against the wall. She would rest as much as possible and hope Ferra’s age slowed her later. It was her only hope.
“Turn around and walk to the hatch.”
Saree followed the directions. She didn’t have a choice.
“Open it. We’re leaving.”
She opened the inner hatch and walked to the outer hatch. The shuttle skin had cooled enough, so Saree started the opening sequence. She had to keep some sort of link with Hal. Did Ferra keep her e-torc? “If you want to return to Lightwave, we’ll need my e-torc. There are security measures built into it. We can’t get back in the shuttle without it.”
“I have it. Go through, then close the hatch behind us and secure it.” Ferra’s tone was impatient. “Hurry up, Scholar.”
Saree hurried. The Inquisitors must know they were there—they had surveillance. The last thing she wanted to do was get caught in the open—they’d be easy targets. Pulling open the hatch, she winced at the heat still emanating from the hull, the skin of her face tightening.
A hand pressed her back, so Saree stepped out, Ferra practically on her heels. Saree turned back, securing the hatch. Ferra pulled her around and they hustled down the steps, stepping down into the dust of Gleise. She heard the ladder retracting behind her, the Badlands rising in stark, multicolored bands of worn rock in front of her.
Hal said through the exterior speakers, “Unknown shuttle approaching. Unknown shuttle approaching.”
“Oh, by the Mother. Run for the cliffs, Scholar! Go!” Ferra pushed her and Saree ran.
Was there really a shuttle approaching or did Hal say that to push Ferra? If so, he pushed her the wrong way. As they ran, Saree looked around, hoping to see something, anything to would help her escape. She saw nothing but the dust of Gliese billowing up around her with each step and t
he Badlands in front of them. Hal had landed on the flats just outside the strange, stark and oddly beautiful terrain. Tall, steep escarpments of rock rose in front of them, banded in red, yellow and beige layers. Ravines were carved into the rock, twisting passageways leading deep into the hills. Free-standing pillars with oddly curved shapes were scattered randomly, as if a giant sculptor had carved pieces off the rock walls and stuck them upright.
Saree continued to sprint, her legs struggling to propel her in the soft sand, her lungs starting to labor. She knew some of the ravines ended in dead ends, some in drop-offs and some never ended, but twisted around and met up with others. An easy place to get lost in, especially since Gliese net’s navigation capability was poor; they didn’t have enough satellites. And after dark? Far worse. Did Gliese have predators?
Saree dodged into the nearest ravine, followed closely by Ferra. The short, twenty-meter sprint left Saree gasping for air. Running was easy. Running with a heavy backpack through the heat and sand of Gleise, the dust clogging her throat, her hands cuffed in front of her, still slow from whatever drug Ferra gave her? Hard. Really hard. Ferra wasn’t any better off, but she didn’t rest. No, she pushed Saree farther into the ravine. The walls closed in around them, twisting around like a wobbly port junkie.
“Keep going. Three klicks to the cave entrance.”
Saree didn’t acknowledge Ferra; she just kept walking, slowing her pace until she could breathe with her mouth shut. The longer she could breathe through her nose, the more water she’d save. She was sweating too much now. But the drug might metabolize faster this way. The fog was lifting from her thoughts. It wasn’t gone, but it was dissipating.
A rumble and a blast came from the plains behind them.
“By the Mother!” Ferra turned back and looked up. “Your shuttle is leaving!” She yanked Saree around, her face purple with fury. “You’d better be able to get it back or we’ll both be stranded. What did you do?”
Saree shrugged and smirked. “I didn’t do anything. My shuttle has programmed failsafes. If the shuttle is endangered, it takes evasive action. I told you to bring the e-torc.” She smiled wider at Ferra. “And there’s a DNA reader and voice and body confirmation built into it. If you try to use it, it won’t work. If I’m under too much stress, my voice will show it and the program assumes I’m under duress. I also have to answer a random question, one pulled out of thousands of records, so don’t think you can make a recording and fool the system.” If looks could kill, she’d be dead right now, which made Saree grin.
Ferra glared. “And how does a Scholar of Music have this kind of security?”
Saree smiled wider—and meaner. “I didn’t design it. I have friends.”
Ferra’s lips compressed into a flat line and her florid color faded. “Get going, Scholar. We’ve got a long way to go.”
Saree turned. She stumbled forward when Ferra shoved her in the back, hard. “A broken leg won’t help.” Pain shot from her neck and Saree found herself on her elbows and knees, trying to breathe, dust puffing up around her.
“You’re right, it won’t.” She looked up to an evil sneer. “But I can certainly make life painful if you continue to annoy me. Get moving.”
Saree pushed up off the ground and trudged forward, sand slowing her feet. No sense in rousing the dragon, now that Ferra had remembered the slave collar. They continued plodding into the ravine, ignoring side passages and the occasional hole in the rock walls. Despite the circumstances, Saree marveled at the stark beauty of the water-carved canyon. The red, gold and beige rock layers swooped and swirled in smooth arcs, occasionally closing in above their heads, some passages opening wide, and some so narrow they had to take their packs off to squeeze through. Dark stains dripped down the walls in places, probably from water, adding another layer of art on the sculpted walls.
She did wonder about the holes, though. They were all round, in varying sizes, and appeared to go back into the rock a long way. How do tunnels get water-carved? Was rain pounding down on the plateau enough to carve them out? It must be. The holes only occurred in the yellow rock, so it must be softer. But why were they so round? As she and Ferra plodded, the shadows deepened, increasing the drama of the view; sunset wasn’t far away. Saree might have enjoyed the trek if she wasn’t in captivity.
The rock walls arced away from them, five different chasms splitting off from the wide flat area. Saree stopped—she had no idea which way to go.
Ferra walked around her, staring down at a sheet of plas. Ferra still wore her own e-torc, but she must have shut it off, or Lightwave would track her. The Sisters’ e-torcs, like her own, were utilitarian models, the power and transmitter indicators tiny and hidden against their skin. If she could see Ferra head on, she might be able to tell if it was still powered up by looking into the holo projector. But she’d have to be at the right angle, and Ferra was shorter than Saree by quite a few centimeters.
Saree’s heart sank into her stomach. It didn’t really matter. Lightwave wouldn’t help her. They had too many vulnerable people on board to protect—they couldn’t come after her. Ferra had probably tried to turn off Saree’s e-torc, but most likely it was still on. Hal just made it look shut down. At least that’s what she hoped. If she could get away from Ferra, Hal could pick her up. And if that revealed Hal, well, at this point, she was desperate.
“This way, Scholar.” Ferra headed off into the chasm to the left of them, toward the southwest. Or at least Saree thought it was southwest. They’d turned and twisted so much it was hard to tell. Without any other choices, she followed Ferra. The walls of this ravine were narrower and the bottom rougher, rocks jutting up out of the sand. Perhaps not as much water washed through it. Just past the canyon entrance, she deliberately stumbled and fell hard against the wall—the wall in deep shadow. Saree scraped her cuffs along it, wincing at the noise and pain. And the glare Ferra turned on her. Hopefully she had marked the stone. She definitely bruised her wrist, but if it helped someone find them…
They slogged another fifty or so meters, Saree stumbling over the rough surface and the dust of Gliese rising around her, irritating her salt-and-heat tightened face further. Ferra stopped occasionally, looking up the ravine wall. This rock escarpment was heavily water-stained, dark streaks running down the gulch like a demented painter dumped buckets of diluted black ink down them.
Ferra made a faint exclamation.
Saree looked closer at the wall. Small hollows, with flat bottoms and rounded tops, burrowed into the rock, almost hidden among the dark stains, alternating sides as they went up. Craning her head back, Saree looked as far up the face as she could. Hand and foot holds, perhaps? It would be a scary climb—this wall was at least fifty meters high.
Ferra crooked a finger at her, motioning her to come. She unlocked the handcuffs. “If you want a drink, I suggest you get one now. We’re going up. And if you’re thinking about running, don’t. I’ll hit you with the collar and I won’t care if you’re twenty meters in the air or not. I’ll just leave you here while I… do what I have to do.” Ferra walked away, took off her pack and pulled out a bev-tainer. She leaned against the ravine wall, drinking deeply.
Saree copied Ferra. Given the chance to stay healthy and strong, she’d take it. She quickly munched down an energy bar too. They finished at about the same time. Saree pretended to put the bar wrapper back in her pack with her bev-tainer, but she let it fall by her feet. She stepped on it, burying half of it in the sand. Native animals might carry it off, but it was all she could do to help someone find her. She put her pack back on and tightened the straps. A loose pack would be a disaster on this climb.
Ferra motioned at the makeshift ladder. “Up you go, Scholar. I’ll be carrying the controller in my teeth, so don’t think you can kick me in the head without consequences.”
Saree approached the carved hand and foot holds, surveying them. They looked dismayingly smooth. It seemed each hollow was originally shaped with a slight drop toward the b
ack for fingers to hold. But over time, wind and water must have eroded them, because most were flat, or in one case sloped the wrong way, the edge worn almost away. Well, won’t this be all kinds of fun. Saree stepped up and moved slowly into the first few holds. She tested her grip, trying to yank her hand away. They weren’t quite as slippery as they looked, thank the egg of Zarar.
Saree started climbing in earnest, trying to think only about the climb, not about the drop, and moving smoothly from hold to hold. She didn’t stop, she just kept moving. If she kept climbing, she could only think about the next move, not the consequences. And Saree really didn’t want to think about the drop below her, or how the heavy pack on her back pulled her backward, or how her hands sweated, making her grip ever more slippery.
Finally, the cliff face became a little less cliff-like, the rock angling away from her. Saree reached for another handhold, but there wasn’t one. She pushed her legs up a bit, hanging on to the handholds, and looked—she’d reached the top. Saree thrust against her feet in the hollows, pushed hard, and drove herself on to the flat area at the top, rolling sideways on the rock. Pushing up to her hands and knees, she gasped from the effort—and the fear she wouldn’t let herself feel on the way up. Suns. Terrifying. She thought about getting to her feet, but she saw Ferra’s head appear. No sense in getting herself shocked. She’d just stay here.
Once her breathing slowed, Saree surveyed the surrounding area. She could almost reach out and touch the other side of the ravine, but it curved toward them, creating a smooth, impossible-to-climb negative slope. The ledge they perched on was barely wide enough for the two of them, and even then, it was a bit crowded. Where could they go from here? Saree turned toward the wall. The ledge extended away from them, fading into darkness. Was there another water-carved hole? Saree peered into the shadows. Yes, another one of the round holes, larger than many, the tunnel disappearing into shadows. It was impossible to see what was actually back there without getting up and going into the gathering gloom. Saree did not want to go back there, but she was pretty sure that was exactly where they were headed.
