by S M Briscoe
Keeping a firm grip on Elora, he pulled her off down the corridor, visualizing the path they had taken from the main air shaft. If they could make their way back to it, staying clear of any mechs, they might still be able to pull off this escape. Rounding the next corner, Jarred realized in a hurry that those hopes were fragged, as he found himself met with a line of raised rifle barrels. He let out a tired, aggravated breath, as it was not security mechs that held them.
He felt Elora grip his hand, and for the fourth time in as many days, he knew he had been ambushed. His blood ran cold with the realization, and left with few favorable options that wouldn’t end with himself and Elora being killed, he dropped his weapon, kicking it across the floor to the squad of Sect troopers.
* * *
Freedom was so close, Ethan felt as though he could almost reach out and touch it, though to do so would mean leaving the people he cared about most behind. Having scaled the large vertical air duct with the aid of the support cable left by Jarred for just that purpose, he stared through the revolving vent that would lead them out of this horrible place. It almost seemed to call out to him, beckoning him forward. Urging him to save himself.
Jarred had told him to go. To escape through the ducts to where Sierra and Kern were supposed to be waiting for them and that he and his sister would meet back up with them. The only problem was that had never happened. They had barely parted ways when Jarred and Elora had been ambushed and captured by a party of Sect troops. Ethan had been just overhead of them, safely hidden in the ceiling crawlspace, unable to do anything but watch as they were taken away.
The faint hope he had clung to in the face of his own enslavement, that Jarred and Elora would come for him, had actually been realized. They found him and had broken into this place to rescue him from the same fate they now faced for their effort. They came for him and he had no intention of leaving them here to rot.
“What’s the hold up?” Mac asked from just below him.
Ethan looked down at the man that had become his friend in his days here. A comrade in enslavement. He wanted his freedom just as badly as Ethan did, his eyes focused on the spinning blade of the air vent as though it was the very source of that freedom. But Ethan couldn’t leave yet. Not without his sister. Not without Jarred. Mac would understand that.
“We’re not leaving,” he proclaimed, confidently.
Mac’s face did not hide his surprise. “What? What do you mean we’re not leaving?”
“We can’t,” Ethan answered. “Not yet.”
“If not now, when?” Mac exclaimed.
“We have to go back. We have to help Jarred and my sister.”
Mac’s mouth opened to shoot out a quick reply, but he hesitated for a moment, as though collecting himself. “Listen, kid. I know how you’re feeling here. I’d like to help them too. But if we go back there, we won’t be able to help them. We’ll just wind up locked back up with them. I know you don’t want that. I sure don’t want that.”
“They didn’t leave me,” Ethan answered. “They came back for me. They’re in there because of me.”
“And they would want you to get yourself out of this place,” Mac finished. “They wouldn’t want you risking yourself going back for them.” He paused for a moment, giving Ethan a moment to take in his words, probably on purpose. “Sometimes, kid . . . you just need to know your limits. And sometimes you need to cut your losses and run. This is one of those times.”
Ethan’s feelings of concern turned quickly to anger. “You can’t just run away from everything, Mac! Sometimes you need to stand up and face things, even when it scares you to do it. Not because it’s the best thing for you. But because it the right thing to do.” Mac actually looked surprised, but Ethan continued, sternly. “I’m not running away. I’m going back for them. And I need your help to do it.”
“Whoa, kid,” Mac returned, raising his hands, defensively. “If what you really want is to head back in there on some impossible mission to rescue your sister and the guy who’s still planning on serving me up to Arden Taliss for a fistful of credits, be my guest. I won’t stand in your way. But don’t expect me to jump onboard to help you do it.”
Ethan’s heart sank a bit. He understood Mac’s reasoning. Jarred had been trying to turn him over to a crime boss that probably wanted to have him killed. But he had also hoped that the man, who had become his friend, would choose to put those things aside. Maybe not for Jarred, but for him. “I understand,” he resigned. “Good luck making your way off world.”
At that, Ethan turned away and began to make his way back down the air shaft, Tarik following, a bit eagerly. It seemed the grey creature was no more eager to abandon Jarred and Elora than he was. They had made it only meter or so when Mac called after them.
“Wait a minute. How am I supposed to get out of here?”
Ethan looked back up at him. “You’re a resourceful guy, Mac. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” He grinned to himself as he descended another meter, Mac calling out to him again.
“Alright, alright. You win, kid. I’ll help you. But you’ve got to promise me, if we manage to make it out of here, that you’ll work some of those persuasive powers with your bounty hunter friend.”
Ethan smiled at the man. “I’ll put in a good word for you, Mac.”
The smile left his face, replaced by a look of determination, as they continued down the shaft. They would find Jarred and his sister and free them from this place. The only question, and a rather big one at that, was how. How to find where they had been taken in this place, if they were even still here. How to go about freeing them if and when they did find them. And finally, how to get them all out of here to rendezvous with Kern and Sierra and dust off from this rock once and for all.
Chapter 30
So this was the human that had caused so much trouble for Durak, frustrating his numerous attempts to capture the being called Orna. Traug considered the holographic recording of the man that sat in the waste facility’s isolation cell, from the comfort of the unoccupied executive administrator’s office he had taken as his own for the time being, his employers requesting that he personally and quietly deal with this situation. They would need it to go away before any unfavorable public attention was drawn to this . . . particular area of their operation.
And the situation was an intriguing one at that. As Orna had continued to elude the High Commander, and the mysterious, and almost mythological, Rai Chi had arrived to, in a sense, oversee Durak’s progress, Traug had found himself becoming more and more interested in both the outcome and the true motives behind the Sect’s interest in the strange little being. Traug was not so foolish as to dismiss her based on something as superficial as her physical stature of course. He was his own best example of the error in that sort of reasoning, taking pride in the fact that his appearance often put his opponents off balance to the point that they tended to underestimate him. A mistake which gave him a tactical edge. No, there was definitely something more to this Orna than met the eye, and he intended to discover what that was, and then exploit it to his own profitable ends.
Traug saw another, more immediate, opportunity on the monitor before him. The bounty hunter had sustained an injury during his break in attempt, the mechanical medic sent in to examine him reporting that the wound had inexplicably healed of its own accord. The same thing had occurred during his first encounter with the human, when Durak had ordered him to be shot. He had been thought dead, but as everyone had come to be aware, he was not, and now too seemed to bear no visible mark of the blast that should have taken his life. The man obviously had some kind of strange healing ability, a trait in and of itself that presented countless possibilities for research and development applications for his employers, all of them profitable, so long as they were able to retain possession of the human after Durak was done with him. That was, of course, also dependent on whether or not there would be anything left of him to barter for. Traug supposed he would have to wait and see
.
The wait would not be a long one. The alert chime at his desk’s control terminal signaled the prompt arrival of his guests.
“The Rai Chi have arrived, sir,” Praxis commented after a few moments.
“Thank you, Praxis,” he replied to his personal mech, having forgotten he was waiting nearby, as he always was. “I am aware.” Under normal circumstances, he may have delayed his response for effect, leaving his visitors, or potential business associates, to wait outside just long enough to instill in them a clear understanding of who held the greater position of power, without becoming offensive. A subtle, yet often effective tactic, it was not one he deemed suitable to employ for these particular visitors. They were not the sort to keep waiting, lest he hold little value in his own continued well being, which of course, was not the case. He immediately depressed the flashing door actuator on the desktop and stood from his seat to greet his guests as the office doors slid open.
Every aspect of his welcoming demeanor was well practiced, a fact which he was eternally grateful for at the moment, as were it not, he was not sure his expression wouldn’t have portrayed his true and utter dread. Soldiers and mercenaries were brutish types, their transparent attempts at physical intimidation little more than laughable as far as Traug was concerned, but these Rai Chi were more than just simple brutes. Something about them inspired fear. It was an inevitable consequence to being in their presence. Perhaps it was that these warriors did not seem to be ruled by the usual poisons. As they did not seem to hold value in material goods or money, they could not be bargained with or bribed, in which case, Traug had no means of controlling them. Their lives seemed to be devoted solely to serving their strange religious beliefs. Even Durak, who claimed a devotion to the same ridiculous Gods, still desired power and had personal ambition. These were things Traug could work with. The Rai Chi had no such desires, a fact which put him on edge.
He stepped around his desk, crossing half the office floor to meet the two warriors he recognized from their brief encounter in Trycon, one of which wore a pronounced scar down one side of his face. They were escorted by a half dozen more of their kind along with a small compliment of Sect troops, dressed in the altered attire of special ops, and one administration mech, all but the last of which remained outside the office as the doors closed shut again.
“On behalf of Syntax Corporation, I welcome you to Ryza.” Traug looked to the administration mech, which immediately translated his words back to the warriors.
The unscarred warrior, the lead of the two Traug assumed by the way he carried himself, sneered at his greeting, eyeing him purposefully. He spoke to him directly, Traug understanding none of what he said in his primitive tongue, but for his final word. Crudely pronounced and heavily accented, it was still unmistakable. Huumon.
“Master Warrior Shu’ma Chi-Kem,” the mech began translating, “respectfully, while most urgently, requests an update on the current holdings and status of the human bounty hunter you have in your possession.”
Somehow Traug didn’t believe the Rai Chi’s request had been so elegant or polite. Translator mechs had a way of sweetening the words of their speakers. He nodded. “Of course.” He reached over to press another button on his desktop, activating a full size viewscreen, displaying the recording he had only just been watching himself, on the wall, which he directed the warriors towards. “The human is currently contained in one of our isolation cells, as shown in this holo-recording; secured by a state of the art energy barrier; under heavy guard. I apologize that this is not live imagery, but . . . the sensitive nature of this facility requires the absence of such recordings. For security purposes, you understand.
Shu’ma cut him off, with dismissive gesture.
“Shu’ma Chi-Kem has no interest in your corporation’s business here,” the mech translated, “or your need for secrecy. His only concern is the human.”
“Of course,” Traug returned, nodding towards the warrior. “The human was injured during his capture, though there is no longer any sign of the wound . . . as before.” He noted the warrior’s expression change, though only slightly, at the revelation. “The woman in the cell was also captured with him.”
The scarred warrior spoke, sounding less abrasive and a bit thoughtful, the mech repeating his words.
“Master Warrior Rho’uk Chi-Nal wishes to know the status of the human boy the two came for.”
The warrior, Shu’ma, almost spat, speaking sharply to the scarred warrior and then back to Traug.
“Shu’ma Chi-Kem does not require information on anyone but this bounty hunter,” the mech translated, after looking between the two warriors. “He requests that the human male be brought before him as soon as possible.”
Traug nodded, pleasantly, while taking in the hostile exchange between the warriors. Interesting. A rivalry of sorts, though his instincts were confirmed on who the lead was. “Of course. I will have him moved to more fitting accommodations for your interrogation.”
Shu’ma glared at the wall monitor and then turned abruptly to leave, the scarred warrior’s gaze remaining on the image a moment longer, again seeming more thoughtful, before turning to follow his superior along with their translator mech.
As the office doors sealed shut again, Traug moved back around the desk to retake his seat. The brief exchange had been an interesting and revealing one. Perhaps these Rai Chi were not so different after all. And it seemed he did have something they desired. His eyes drifted back to the desk monitor and the bounty hunter that was displayed on it and a satisfied grin came to his face. Yes. He did believe he was in good standing to make a profit from this huumon. Now, all that was left was the part of his profession which he found the most personally satisfying. Discovering how it was to be made and seeing it done.
* * *
Their jailbreak attempt hadn’t worked out as well as Elora had hoped, the constricting walls of the containment cell she and Jarred found themselves confined to being a constant reminder of that. Sitting next to him on the cold metal floor, she assumed he was thinking the same thing. She might have found consolation in the fact that Ethan had escaped, if only she could be sure that he had.
Before they were captured, Jarred had gotten her brother and Mac; ironically the same man he’d been hunting when they had all met on Isyss, and who had been their only clue as to where her brother might have been taken; up into the ductwork they had entered the facility through. The plan, if she could call it that, had been for Tarik to lead them back towards their original entry point into the facility and that she and Jarred would try to meet back up with them after losing their mechanical pursuers. The last part never happened, as moments after parting ways with her brother, they had run directly into a Sect ambush. Or another Sect ambush, she corrected herself. It had been happening quite a bit lately.
Trapped in a cell, suddenly a prisoner herself, she had no way of knowing what had become of Ethan and the others. Had they escaped? Or had they been captured as well? If the latter, they hadn’t been brought here, so where were they being kept? If the former, had they actually made it back to Kern and Sierra? She could only hope as much. In truth, she knew it was entirely possible that she would never find out. They had barely escaped the Sect with their lives three times before. She doubted they would be so lucky again.
“They made it out,” Jarred said, as though in answer to her unspoken questions. “Ethan’s a smart kid, and Tarik is with him. He would have made sure they got back to the ship.”
Though his words sounded confident, Elora knew they were mostly meant to reassure her. He had no way of knowing that was the case, anymore than she did. She was touched by his effort though and leaned her head over to rest it on his shoulder.
“Once we bust out here,” he continued, after a moment, “I’ll take you both out for a proper reunion celebration. I know this great Tanizian shellfish place.”
Though he spoke the sentiment with noticeably less conviction than before, Elora laughed
lightly in recognition of his effort. “I would love that.”
“It’s a date then,” he replied.
Though there was a chance Ethan and the others had indeed escaped, neither she or Jarred would have any doubts about their own chances of doing so. Maybe that was what touched her more than anything else. Jarred had known their chances going into this and had probably considered a similar outcome He had done it anyway. He had done all of this to help them. To help her. As hard as he had been trying to keep up his cold, self serving persona, she knew that he did actually care. He had risked his life more than once to save them, partly out of some sense of moral obligation, but also because he was beginning to develop an emotional connection to them. To her. She knew as much because she was feeling the same things for him. Something was growing between them, though the circumstances and timing weren’t exactly fitting or appropriate for a budding romance.
Regardless, in the dire situation she found herself, she was glad to have him here with her. If she was truly facing her end, at least she would be with someone she cared for when it came.
The deactivation of the cell’s barrier field, followed immediately by the entry of a small contingent of armed soldiers, suggested that end might be approaching rather quickly. The calm she had felt only a fraction of a second earlier left her, replaced with the quiet panic one might expect to feel in such situations. It wasn’t a good feeling and she gripped Jarred’s arm as they both came to their feet.
The soldiers looked between them for a long moment before one of them finally raised his weapon in Jarred’s direction and fired. Elora felt herself scream, though her voice was drowned out by the sudden shockwave of horror that surged through her entire body as she watched Jarred stagger back before falling to the floor.
