by S M Briscoe
Taking an uneasy breath, he moved across the room to an empty bunk, sitting down on the bottom section. On the mattress was a set of folded gray coveralls. He moved the clothes aside and lied down on the bed, rolling over to face the wall. His stomach ached and he began to feel his eyes well up with tears. He had kept himself from crying in an attempt to stay strong and to convince anyone looking and even himself that he wasn’t afraid. Crying didn’t help anything. Now, staring into the colorless wall before him, the full realization of his situation began to sink in. He was a prisoner here, locked away beneath thousands of people that didn’t even know this place existed. Worse than that, he was alone. Truly alone. Tears began to stream from his eyes, across his face and onto his pillow. He didn’t bother to wipe them away. What was the point?
Curling himself up on the bed, with no one around who would take notice, all of them lost in their own despair, Ethan finally allowed himself to silently weep.
Chapter 20
SOLTA
As the morning's first light began to creep into her small sleeping nook, signaling the end of yet another restless night, Elora rose and sat up on the edge of what was probably the most uncomfortable bed she had ever found herself losing sleep on. Stretching her arms up towards the low cave ceiling, she attempted to work the kinks and muscle soreness out of her back, without much success, scowling down at the lightly bedded stone slab. Only partially dressed, she grabbed her coveralls off the floor, slipping into the legs and cinching the arms up around her waist.
Pushing aside the small cloth privacy curtain that covered the nook’s opening, she crouched through and stepped into the main living area of the dwelling, which was no more impressive than the sleeping area she had just left. Small cloth mats on the floor constituted the only furniture, all of which encircled a central pit area where a number of smooth mid-sized stones had been placed by their hosts the previous night. Surprisingly, it was those stones that had been responsible for heating the entire dwelling throughout the night, Elora still able to feel the warmth coming off of them.
The other sleeping nooks appeared to be undisturbed and she glanced over to the one she knew Jarred had spent the night in. Quietly, she crossed to the opposite side of the dwelling and crouched down next to the nook opening, bringing a hand up to pull back the privacy curtain before hesitating a moment. Turning her head so that her ear nearly touched the cloth barrier, she listened, hearing nothing inside. Carefully, she drew the curtain back only slightly, peaking through the small opening. The nook was nearly black inside and she strained to distinguish between the dark shapes and even darker cave wall. She began to pull the curtain back further to allow enough light in to see clearly, but not so much that the nook was flooded and Jarred possibly awakened by it, when she was startled by someone clearing their throat behind her. Smacking her head on the top of the nook opening, she took a step back and turned to face whoever had made the sound.
“Find anything interesting?” Sierra asked with a smirk, as she stood, leaning against the wall of her own nook with her arms folded across her chest.
Grimacing, Elora held a hand to the sore spot on the back of her head, trying to think of some kind of defense or comeback that would lessen the sting of embarrassment she felt. Nothing came to mind.
“How did you sleep?” she asked, instead.
Sierra’s smirk remained. “About as well as you did by the looks of it.” She paused, regarding her for a moment, before continuing in a more sympathetic tone. “How are you holding up?”
The woman seemed to feel as awkward asking the question as Elora did being asked it. She wondered if Sierra had ever had a moment of weakness in her entire life. She was focused, but also cold and detached, traits that most definitely were of a benefit to her in the kind of situations they had found themselves in recently. Elora wished she could disconnect herself from the anguish she was feeling. Become cold to it. When her greatest fear, in losing Ethan, had been realized, she had collapsed emotionally, caving in on herself. At the time, it had been too horrible to face and because of her weakness she had been a burden and a liability to everyone. She wouldn’t let that happen again. She was done feeling sorry for herself. She had to be if there was going to be any chance of getting Ethan back.
“I’m doing alright.”
Sierra nodded simply, Elora not knowing if she was satisfied with the answer or with just having gotten the awkward courtesy talk out of the way. She assumed the latter as the woman didn’t waste any more time before changing subjects.
“So, how long have you been planet hopping around the system with Jarred?”
Surprised by the question, Elora kept her expression deadpan. At least she knew where Sierra’s interest lied. “Not very long.”
“No offense, but you don’t really fit the bounty hunter mold.”
“None taken. We actually just met him on Isyss, during the raid. He helped us escape along with Orna.”
Sierra raised an eyebrow. “Really? So you two aren’t . . .”
“Involved?” Elora finished. Sierra must have already known that she and Jarred were not in any kind of romantic relationship. She was probing now. Trying to determine her interest in him. “No. He was just nice enough to help us out and give us a ride to Trycon.”
“A nice bounty hunter? That’s a bit of a contradiction in terms.”
“Believe me, it took some convincing, but I eventually won him over. He tries hard to keep up the whole self serving merc image thing, but once you see past that, he’s really not so bad.”
“I see.”
Elora detected a hint of what she thought might be jealousy in Sierra’s tone and suppressed the urge to smirk. She was attracted to Jarred. Elora could understand why. She had entertained similar thoughts over the past few days, though at this moment, a romantic relationship was the farthest thing from her mind. Or at least she thought it should have been. Yet, for some reason, she couldn’t help but feel competitive towards this woman.
“What about you and Kern?” she asked, reversing the flow of questions. “Are you two . . .”
Sierra’s eyes grew wide. “No! No. Definitely not.” She laughed and shook her head. “Kern is . . . a good partner and an exceptional pilot, but . . . that’s all.”
“Why?” Elora pressed. “He’s not unattractive.”
“No, he’s not. Not at all. It’s just that he’s, well . . . Kern.”
There was a loud thump from inside one of the nearby nooks followed by a pained cry, sounding more annoyed than anything. A moment later, Kern emerged from the nook’s opening, holding the back of his head.
“Good morning,” Sierra greeted him, coyly.
“What’s so good about it?” he answered with a scowl, receiving a few uncomfortable sounding cracks for the effort of stretching out his back and shoulders. “I don’t care whose delicate sensibilities I offend, if we’re not out of here by tonight, which I pray to the God of mechanical engineering we are, I’m sleeping on the ship.”
A shadow was cast over most of the lit area of the dwelling and everyone turned to see Jarred step into the entryway from outside.
“Rise and shine, sleeping beauties,” he mocked. “That includes you, Kern.”
“Very funny,” Kern answered.
Contrary to everyone else in the room, Jarred looked completely refreshed.
“Get ready and meet me outside,” he instructed of everyone. “Our hosts have been busy.”
“What about breakfast?” Kern asked, as Jarred was turning to leave the doorway. He turned back and tossed a bundled package towards Kern, who caught it.
“What’s this?” Kern asked.
“Breakfast.”
* * *
There wasn’t a lot of talking during the half hour trek from the village to the ship landing site. Like the others, Elora spent most of the hike chewing on the tough, salted meat strips Jarred had obtained from the Toguai. It wasn’t the most delicious meal she had ever had, but it was palatable,
and not having eaten much of anything in the past twenty four hours, she was eagerly consuming them.
As they approached the landing site, she could see that the Toguai had indeed been busy, having apparently covered the surface of the upper hull of the ship with elements of the surrounding foliage during the night, camouflaging it from anyone who might be passing by overhead. Numerous Toguai surrounded the hull, seemingly examining the damage it had sustained during the escape from Trycon. More were ascending and descending the lowered boarding ramp. Various tools and scrap metal lie strewn about on the ground.
Kern was walking alongside Jarred and turned to speak to him, incredulously. “You gave them access to the ship and then left them with it?”
Jarred shook his head. “They had already boarded her by the time I arrived.”
Kern looked surprised. “How did they bypass the security safeguards?”
Jarred just shrugged.
“Where did they get all these tools . . .” Kern continued. “. . . and parts?”
“Apparently,” Jarred began, “they’ve been very busy.”
Kern walked along the length of the ship, examining its hull. “They’ve nearly sealed all of the breaches already?”
“Like Orna said,” Jarred stated, with another shrug, “they’re mechanically adept.”
“Speaking of which,” Sierra jumped in, coming up to stand next to Jarred, “where is Orna?”
“I don’t know,” he answered. “I haven’t seen her yet this morning, and even if I was interested in finding out, which I’m not, the Toguai haven’t really been any more talkative than usual.”
“It’s tough to start up a conversation when the talking only goes one way,” Kern commented, dryly.
“I don’t mind,” Jarred said. “The peace and quiet has been nice for a change.”
“Well, I do mind,” Sierra rebuked. “Orna is my responsibility-”
“Our responsibility,” Kern corrected.
“-and I need to know where she is as well as when this ship is going to be up and running again.”
Jarred turned around to face Sierra. “Yeah, about that. I’ve been meaning to ask just what exactly your interest in Orna is.”
“What it is, is none of your concern,” she answered, flatly.
“Well, seeing as it’s my ship you’re planning on getting out of here with her on, I’m making it my concern.”
“Oh, now it’s your ship, is it?”
“Yes, for the time being, it is mine. Just so you know, I am planning on returning it, not that it’s any of your business.”
“Oh, how noble of you.”
“Do you two want to be left alone?” Kern asked, now standing off to the side, next to Elora.
“No!” both Jarred and Sierra answered in unison.
Sierra was looking flushed with anger and Elora could feel herself becoming agitated as well, being reminded of her own similar confrontation with Jarred a day earlier and the reasons behind her emotional state and reaction to his comments at the time. Stemming from the awkward, yet intimate moment they shared on Isyss, when Jarred had somehow miraculously healed her leg, a mutual attraction had formed between them. At least she felt it was mutual. That uncertainty, coupled with their combined inability to act on, or even speak of the matter, had led to the growing tension between them. She could see a similar tension between Jarred and Sierra now, and as much as she scolded herself for it, she felt jealous. How ridiculous was that? They were fighting, and she was what, jealous because it wasn’t her that he was fighting with?
“What do you even care, anyway?” Sierra continued, glaring at Jarred. “You said yourself that you just want rid of her. As long as we’re willing to take her off your hands, what difference does it make what our interest is in her?”
“I’ve had plenty of opportunities to have her taken off my hands,” he answered, returning her look. “The Sect military has been chasing me since I met her. It would be nice to know why. Considering I’ve risked my life to bring her this far for you, I don’t think that it’s an unreasonable request!”
“Ahem,” Kern cleared his throat, awkwardly. “Guys?”
“What?” both Jarred and Sierra nearly shouted.
“I found Orna.”
Elora followed Jarred and Sierra in turning to face the direction Kern was looking. A short distance away, Orna stood with a number of the Toguai elders, watching them with what she thought looked like scorn. She had been the subject of similar looks from her father enough times to know disappointment when she saw it.
“Orna,” Sierra began, looking embarrassed. “We were looking for you.”
Orna’s stern look remained, but her gaze shifted slightly as if she had not already been looking at Sierra. “Yes, I heard, and I assure you, I am quite capable of looking after myself.”
Sierra appeared to almost whither under the harshness of Orna’s words. “My apologies, Orna. I meant no disrespect towards you. My only concern was for your safety.”
Orna’s expression softened. “There is no need for apologies. Your concern for my well being is greatly appreciated. This is a safe place and you have no need to fear for my or your own security here.” Her gaze shifted back from Sierra to where it had been originally and Elora realized her scornful look had not been directed towards the arguing pair, but Jarred in particular. He did not whither.
“Jarred Archer,” Orna continued. “I must speak with you alone. You have many questions and it is time you found the answers. There is much you need to know.”
* * *
“What do you know of your people?”
They had walked in silence for some time, well away from the landing site and the rest of the group. Jarred had spent the time mulling over everything he’d wanted to ask Orna for the past few days, struggling with where to begin now that he had the chance, so he was a bit surprised that she had initiated the conversation with a question of her own, and one that he wasn’t quite prepared for.
He answered with a question of his own. “What do you mean by my people? Humans in general?”
“No, Jarred,” Orna replied. “Not humans. Your people.”
Jarred felt himself flinch and glanced away. “I’m not sure I’m following you.”
“You have the appearance of a human being, but we both know that you are something more, Hybrid.”
Jarred hesitated a moment. “You don’t know anything about me . . . and stop calling me that.”
“I know a great deal more than you might think, Jarred, son of Kaylem and Tishara Archer.”
Taken aback, Jarred stopped in his tracks and turned to face the small being, his heart nearly stopping in his chest. “What are you talking about?”
“Your parents,” she replied. “I speak of them.”
Jarred stood frozen, almost unable to breath. He knew nothing of his parents. Not their faces. Not their names. He knew nothing from that part of his life. Orna was claiming to know not only of his missing past, but of them as well. It was almost too much to comprehend. He had spent years searching for answers, finding nothing. Now, this strange being, which he knew nothing about, seemed on the cusp of answering the questions that had plagued him for so long. He wanted to press her for more. Hear all that she had to tell him, but at the same time he was hesitant and forced himself to hold back. Orna had been stringing him along since their first meeting, avoiding his questions and leaving him with her riddles instead. But more than that, he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to know. He had given up the search for answers, doing so because he had convinced himself he was better off not knowing. Being so close to unravelling the mystery now, he felt a great deal of conflict, wanting to run away just as much as he wanted to stay and hear more.
Cautiously, he chose the second option. “You knew my . . . parents?”
“As I said,” Orna began, continuing to walk forward, “there is much about you that I know. What I am curious to learn is what you know about yourself.”
Moving
to catch up to her, Jarred persisted. “Orna, you started this. Stop avoiding all of my questions. It’s all you’ve done since I met you and the routine is getting old. Give me a straight answer for once. What do you know of my parents?”
Orna gave him a curious look. “What do you know of them?”
Jarred felt ready to explode with rage. This being continued to offer him answers, but only ever seemed to turn his questions back in on him. Considering everything he had been through since meeting her, he was in no mood to continue playing her games. And yet, he was still here. He hadn’t stormed off, as he had felt he should. Just as he had not left her where he found her on Isyss. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt that beneath all of the riddles and backward talk, Orna held the key to answers he had sought for much of his life. If he wanted them, he would have to play her game.
“Nothing,” he answered her, finally, letting out the tension filled breath he had been holding. “I have no memory of them.”
“Truly?” Orna commented, not sounding at all surprised by his admission. “Unfortunate that you recall nothing of their lives. And so little of your own.”
Jarred felt his blood chill as he locked gazes with the mysterious being that seemed to know more about him than he was comfortable with.
“It must be difficult for you,” she continued. “Being unaware of your past. How can you know yourself without it?”
“Enough,” Jarred cut her off. “Enough games. Enough riddles. How do you know these things? How do you know me?”
