“You may remove your blindfolds. We’ve arrived at our destination.”
She tugged the fabric over her head, then did a quick assessment of the women.
Agathe’s skin looked gray rather than its usual mahogany shade, but resolve was etched into the lines of her face.
The others appeared subdued but not beaten down. They all had surely been contemplating the situation and how they would address it. Had they come to the same conclusions she had? They may well be facing the fight of their lives.
Blue Eyes waved them off the carriage and onto an unfamiliar concrete landing. She had never been there because she had never before been to the chilly world of the Eastern Quadrant. They must be near its border; beyond the twilight where they now stood lay perpetual darkness and never-melting ice.
She almost said something to Blue Eyes about the cold air and their bare arms but decided not to. She would be no help to anyone with her head blown off.
Instead, she stood with her council as they clutched at their thin clothes and shivered in the half-light. She wrapped a protective arm around Agathe and waited.
When the man with the familiar voice emerged, she recognized something in his movements. Coupled together, the voice and the movements revealed his identity at last. She now knew who the leader of this nefarious band was.
A respected member of the Guards was leading the insurrection which involved kidnapping the entire membership of the Table and taking them to the border of the Eastern Quadrant. It wasn’t some hastily devised scheme. This was a well-planned and meticulously orchestrated uprising, possibly in the works for years.
She knew this because Ralork had been stationed at TR1 for a decade. Had he been subverted recently? Or had he been planted into the Guard ranks years ago by the rebels? Thinking back on the man’s pervasive hostility, she surmised it was the latter.
At that moment her knees almost gave out.
“This way. Don’t speak to anyone who happens to be out. We don’t have far to go.” Ralork stared at her with the usual disdain, then shifted his focus to Agathe. He removed his coat. Then, after brushing away Jox’s arm, he draped the garment around the older woman’s shoulders.
Agathe didn’t thank him. She didn’t say a word, returning his gaze with narrowed eyes and an imperious toss of her silver hair.
Ralork shrugged, then walked toward a dilapidated terminal. No busy commuters exited from it; no one but their group traveled toward it.
Were they in some kind of ghost town? The wind whipped about as it did everywhere on Proxima Centauri. It was an inherently windy planet, thus the tall windbreaks and the reason most of the machinery of civilization abided underground.
She had the sudden urge to flee. Something told her if they went into that building, they would never come out. She glanced behind her to the women and their masked abductors, blasters at the ready. They held those weapons with the casual competence of frequent use.
This was not the right time to wage a resistance. She must let things play out.
“Through here,” Ralork said, at the terminal’s entrance. The building’s interior was in a state of complete disrepair. The walls of the circular space were crumbling. The entrances to a few of the tunnels had collapsed entirely, blocking access to their unknown destinations. The accessible ones were ominous unlit half-circles. She couldn’t imagine where they might lead. She didn’t have to wonder about spiders; she could see their webs.
Her shoulders gave an involuntary shudder.
Ralork approached the only light source within the space, removed the ethane torch from its rusted holder, and turned to face the women gathered in a tight cluster next to a gas heater and its welcome warmth.
He pushed back the shroud, then uncoiled the wrap from his face. She wasn’t surprised when she saw the familiar scowl, but some of the women gasped. Still, no one spoke. They remembered the bloody mound of yellow hair.
“This will be your home for the foreseeable future. Supplies will be here shortly – food, water, sleeping pallets, implements for hygiene and lighting, and so forth. Does anyone have any critical requirements? Medicine? Allergies? Tell me now. Special requests will not be considered later.”
Jox raised her hand.
“Yes, what is it? You may speak freely.”
“Agathe has arthritis. She’ll need her pills.”
Ralork slipped a hand inside his shirt, pulling forth a delicate embroidered pouch. He handed it her friend. “Anything else?”
“I can’t eat nuts. If I consume them, I’ll die within minutes,” said a tall woman with red curls spiraling down to her waist. Nodine was an adversary on the council. Hers was one of the oldest families in Palantine, and she never let anyone forget it.
“Yes, we’re aware of your nut issue. It’s been noted.”
“Then why ask?” Nodine snapped.
Ralork gave her a cold smile. “You tell me.”
“They’re testing us,” Jox replied. “Seeing if we intend to be truthful.”
Nodine gave him a withering look. “Barbarians.”
“Careful, ” Ralork said. “It’s not prudent to insult your captors.”
“Guard Ralork, please tell us what this is all about.” Jox used her most diplomatic, reasonable tone. It had served her well throughout her career.
“Ralork will do. I’m no Guard here. I’m your warden. I’m also a dispenser of death if anyone tries to escape. Or if anyone angers me.” His insolent glance took in Nodine’s lustrous hair, then slowly meandered down to the elegant leather boots in a show of scathing disrespect. Nodine’s hand twitched as if it desperately wanted to slap the scarred face.
Jox breathed a sigh of relief when the slap failed to materialize.
Ralork’s smirk said he had seen it too.
“To answer your question, this isn’t just a rebellion. It’s a reckoning.”
She waited for him to continue, but no further words followed.
She took a leap of faith. “The very meeting you...interrupted...was going to be about the Altruism Budget. I had planned to propose a number of positive changes, including an innovative immigration policy and a worker exchange program. Amendments will be made to the Sacred Scrolls to create more freedoms and benefits for the people in both the Western and Eastern Quadrants. Let us get back and do our job, and I promise we can make our world a better place for everyone.”
Ralork laughed out loud. “You think this is about geography? Borders and budgets?”
“Well, yes. What else could it be about?”
“My gods, woman. I thought you were smarter.”
She cringed at the derision in the voice. Having her intellect questioned was particularly insulting, as it was the only jewel in her metaphorical crown.
“This is about oppression. This is about subjugation. This is about a profoundly dysfunctional system that advances a fragment of the population merely because of their genitalia.”
“Oh, my. You’re a Classicist, then. I thought you were more intelligent, Ralork.” This time she didn’t bother with the diplomatic tone.
Now she remembered the vague rumors of a shadow movement...a secret insurrection of men who chafed at the progress of the past five hundred years. But nothing had ever come of the rumors. What kind of fools would intentionally revert to an archaic society whose inherent aggression had nearly annihilated their race?
“I don’t much care for that word,” Ralork replied. “Step lightly, woman.”
She took note of the menace in his voice and the steely gaze.
She persisted. “Men held power for millennia. You brought your diminished status upon yourselves because of your recklessness and impulsiveness. If not for your hostile overreach in space, our population would number in the billions instead of a few hundred thousand. Chime-Ra almost decimated our world when you carried it back from that nearby galaxy, and it did decimate the female populace. That is on you and your kind.”
Was she being too aggressive? She di
dn’t care. “Our female ancestors seized the reins and have governed with prudence and wisdom since. They were the ones who saved humankind from extinction, and we, their offspring, continue that mission. Men with their Y chromosome and their warlike natures couldn’t be trusted with authority over the fate of our world, and you still can’t. What’s happening in this terminal underscores that perfectly. What happened to Falsten in the Table Room exemplifies it.”
Ralork narrowed his eyes. “The days of enjoying power because of your anomalous biology are over. Starting now. That’s the problem with ceding it to a minority. The majority, because of its superior numbers, will ultimately prevail.”
“Only if it’s stupid and nearsighted.” She took a deep breath. “Ralork, this is ancient history. The Table and its members have guided our people with a steady hand. We have done the impossible by bringing the fertility rate back to almost ninety percent. This past decade, for the first time in five hundred years, there is a girl born for every four boys. Did you know that? It’s a vast improvement from even the last century. Do you understand the significance? We’re finally coming back. At this rate, in a few more generations, the male-to-female ratio will return to pre-space travel numbers. Perhaps then there will be a place for men at the Table. Until that happens, your aggressive dispositions forbid it. We can’t take a chance on you yet.”
Anyone who had attended lower school knew these things. And since all children were required to attend, of course Ralork and his fellow insurgents knew them. She couldn’t fathom the mindset of people who would jeopardize everything gained since their near extermination merely to gain power.
“You don’t have a choice, Jox. That’s what you don’t seem to understand. Do you think I can call it off on a whim? This has been in the works for a long time. I’m just a cog in the wheel.”
The words felt like a punch to her belly.
“You women will stay here until everything settles down. As I said before, no harm will come to you if you don’t cause any trouble. Don’t attempt to escape. You’re in the Eastern Quadrant now. I promise it won’t end well for you.” He gestured to one of the black tunnel openings. “The heater will keep you from freezing in here, but not out there.”
He turned his back, replaced the torch, and strode out, followed by the other gunmen. The sound of the outside doors being shut and bolted echoed down the corridor.
“We should have anticipated this.” Nodine eased her slender backside down to the cracked stone floor of the terminal as close to the heater as she could get without igniting her silk pashmina.
It was not frigid in the room, but neither was it toasty. Jox hoped that when the provisions came they would include blankets and pillows. Finding herself at the mercy of men felt like parting her hair on the opposite side – uncomfortable and unwelcome.
“What do you make of all this?” Agathe sat on the floor now too. The wrinkled face grimaced at the discomfort, but she still wore Ralork’s jacket. She was warm, at least.
“I need time to analyze the situation. I had a plan to address the fiscal and welfare disparities in our world, but not this.”
“Idiots,” Nodine said. “This malfeasance exemplifies why they can’t be trusted to govern. You were right about that, if nothing else, Jox.”
Jox found the grudging compliment off-putting. Like Falsten, Nodine was a haughty, callous ruler, but her intellect didn’t come close to Falsten’s, and her world views usually ran counter to her own. If she and Nodine were in accord on a subject, she should revisit her position on that subject. Immediately.
“I wonder how they’re going to do it.” Agathe gazed into the simulated flames of the ethane heater. “Do you think they’ve abducted all the women or just those of us in government?”
“If this has been in the works for years, I would assume they’ve taken us all. It wouldn’t be that difficult since they so heavily outnumber us. Any female who hadn’t been taken hostage would impose martial law through the authority of her birthright. The men would have foreseen that.”
“I wonder how many of them are in on this.” Zania spoke for the first time. The athletic, middle-aged woman was new to the Table and Jox had yet to decide how she felt about her.
“Who knows? Probably all the bastards,” Nodine replied. “Except for my husbands. They’re utterly loyal to me, as well they should be. They’re spoiled rotten.”
She thought about Zania’s question, then about Nodine’s offensive reply. Men weren’t chattels to be accumulated and displayed, nor were they pets to be pampered. Even though they enjoyed the same rights and privileges as women in all areas but one, she could understand that their lack of legislative control might make them feel like second-class citizens. In some ways, her appearance had delegated her to a similar ignoble realm. It wasn’t a pleasant place to be.
Still, it was their own fault.
“There are too many unknowns at this point. I suggest we bide our time, try to coerce information from our captors when they bring the supplies, and go from there. Thoughts, ladies?” It felt proper for Jox to take the lead in this situation as she had done from the Tallest Chair for the past five years.
“Agreed,” Agathe said. “As the Guard said, we’re in the EQ. If those tunnels extend farther into the tundra, we’d freeze out there in no time.”
“Or they could lead back to Palantine,” Zania said.
“We were on that carriage for hours. We must be far from home.”
“Who knows what direction we were going? The twilight suggests we’re barely into the EQ. Or perhaps we’re still in Palantine and it’s dusk. Maybe the purpose of the transport was to confuse our sense of distance and orientation.”
Jox raised her eyebrows in surprise. The idea hadn’t occurred to her. “Very good, Zania. That’s something to consider.”
Noises came from the terminal’s entrance, then flat-bed wagons rolled into the circular room, pulled by two men.
Ralork was not among them this time. She knew this because their faces were uncovered. It was worrisome that they no longer bothered to hide their identities.
She stood, adopting a demeanor of placid confidence, though her instinct urged her to rush the man in front and wrestle the blaster from his hand.
“Gentlemen, thank you. We appreciate the food and water, and are grateful for the blankets. It’s chilly here in the Eastern Quadrant.” When she said the last part, she watched for micro expressions on the face of the closest man. His pale eyes darted toward her, then an inscrutable veil slid back into place. It was Blue Eyes, the one who had passed out the blindfolds. Something in his demeanor spoke to her; subtle body language hinted at compassion.
She would exploit it if possible.
Careful to keep her distance from the one with the blaster, she moved toward Blue Eyes, affecting docile, compliant movements. She despised herself for them, but continued.
“Guard, is there anything you can tell us? I’m sorry I can’t address you properly. I don’t know your name.”
Blue Eyes set down a heavy package, then turned to face her. She scrutinized his features. Had she seen him somewhere before? The markets? The libraries? He looked familiar.
“There’s no need for names here, ma’am. We’ll return with more food and water tomorrow.”
He began to turn, then seemed to remember something. “Please don’t forget what you were told. An attempted escape will not end well for you. It may not seem like it, but we’d prefer that everyone get out of this alive.”
“Except for Falsten,” Agathe said from a few inches behind. The antagonism in the older woman’s voice was not helping their cause.
Blue Eyes glanced toward Agathe, careful to keep his expression neutral, but Jox saw a flash of remorse. There was no mistaking it.
“I’ve included a burner to heat your meals. Please don’t repurpose it for anything hazardous.”
“Repurpose it for what? We’re going to turn a food burner into a blaster? Idiot.” Nodine’s
words and tone made Jox cringe. So much for any progress she might have been making.
“Good night, ma’am,” Blue Eyes said to her, ignoring the other women. Then, as he turned to catch up to the men, she felt something pressed into her right hand – the serviceable one.
She watched him file down the corridor toward the entrance without looking back. Once she heard the clanging of the door being shut and locked, she uncurled her fingers.
In the palm lay a flawless obsidian sphere.
The volcanic glass was rare on Centauri Proxima and highly sought after for that reason, as well as for its beauty. This marble was even more special – its surface had been engraved with the letters J and V.
Jox and Vyg. It had been a gift from her first husband on their wedding night.
***
“What does it mean?” Agathe asked moments later.
“I don’t know, but I will analyze it. In the meantime, let’s get everything unpacked and sorted. The portable privy should be placed down one of the tunnels, preferably one without spider webs. Tova, you’re in charge of dinner since you know your way around a kitchen. Agathe, you have a head for numbers, so you’ll be inventorying our supplies and calculating what everyone can have. We can’t count on the men to return tomorrow just because they said they would, so we should ration. The rest of you, get your sleep pallets and blankets. Older ladies closest to the heater. Let’s get started.”
The simple work of organizing and delegating tasks allowed her mind to wrangle with their predicament as well as ponder the significance of the marble. What if they really weren’t in the Eastern Quadrant? If they ventured down one of those black shafts, would they emerge in Palantine or onto the frozen tundra? There were a dozen passageways with entrances that had not collapsed. Surely there weren’t armed men waiting on the other end of each of them. Did the marble mean her husband Vyg was part of this? Or was he fighting against it? Could he be a mole, inducted into the rebellion but subverting it from within?
“Jox, here’s your meal,” said the portly Tova, handing her a compartmented tray containing food that reminded her of the meals from lower school. Upon closer inspection, she realized that’s exactly what it was. The men must have raided a distribution facility. If the children were going without lunches as a result, she would personally refashion all the rebels into eunuchs.
The Sublime Seven Page 24
