The Legend of Sirra Bruche

by Heidi J. Leavitt

  It was a month before she saw anything suspicious. It was harvest time for the plantation, and Scott had sent out more skiff pilots to keep a closer eye until the plantation’s valuable store of medicinal plants could be shipped out. With the extra help near the plantation, she was able to range much farther into the jungle than she ever had before.

  About an hour south of the village she stumbled across a large patch of jungle that seemed oddly blurry. She flew closer and scanned it, but her scanner detected nothing at all unusual. Still, she had never seen anything like it. The jungle foliage was so thick that she couldn’t see the ground. Cutting a wide arc she swerved around to take a second pass before she called it in. It wouldn’t do to look like a complete idiot because she reported some strange kind of shimmering jungle trees.

  Just as she was coming back toward it, a streak of light shot out of the jungle blinding her. Her ship shuddered, and as she blinked her eyes furiously, spots dancing in front of her eyes, she realized that her controls were blank and smoke was rising from her engine.

  There was no time to react. She had been skimming so low over the jungle canopy that her ship was already plummeting into the trees. All Andie had time to do was close her eyes and try to brace for the impact.

  The skiff tore through the trees and slammed into the ground, and suddenly everything was the horrible screeching rending of metal, crunching wood, a feeling of suffocation, and then mercifully the ship skidded to a stop.

  Everything was a bit hazy then. It could have been hours, or only moments. She hung limply in her safety harness feeling warmth trickle down the side of her face and staring blankly at the twisted hunk of metal in front of her that must have been her instrument panel. Gradually her heartbeat slowed, and she closed her eyes. I’ll just rest for a moment, she thought. Just a moment before I figure out what to do.

  Suddenly the side of her ship was yanked away and she blinked in surprise at the hazy green light that flooded her cockpit. Her neck felt stiff and sore, and she immediately realized that she had been asleep or unconscious for awhile. A man with a thick grizzled beard and flashing dark eyes stared in at her. He studied her for a moment before reaching out and unbuckling her harness. Andie was about to thank him when he roughly dragged her through the ragged hole in the metal. Her arm caught on the side, slicing through her flight suit and into her arm. She cried out, but the man didn’t falter. Once out of the mangled ship remains, he thrust her into the hands of another man, this one big and burly. He yanked off her helmet, spilling her long hair down her back. “Hah! Guess we don’t need gold for Burke this trip!” he crowed with delight. “Can you believe our luck?” This didn’t make any sense to her at all, but it was clear these men were not here to help her.

  Sudden fear penetrated her shock, and she tried to struggle from the iron grasp of the big man. He merely tightened his grip on both her arms, as if her kicking was no more than the harmless flailing of a two year old. The first man flicked open a knife and brought it toward her face, and she flinched back against her captor. He smiled grimly and cut a chunk from the left shoulder of her flight suit, tossing it onto the ground.

  He had taken her locator.

  Every Armada pilot had a tracking device sewn into the shoulder of the flight suit. It was her guarantee they would find her if she went down. But as she watched helplessly, he pulled out a pocket laser and directed it at her locator, melting it into a tiny charred lump.

  “Douse the engine fire and cover the wreckage,” the bearded man ordered tersely. He had a strange, clipped accent. He didn’t sound like he was from Zenith. “Hopefully, they’ll never find it. Oh, and don’t forget to take care of the ship’s locator. You’ll find it under the pilot’s seat.” More men appeared silently from the trees and started to work on his orders. He strapped his laser back to his leg, beckoned shortly at the man holding Andie, and strode off into the trees. The hulking man propelled her after his apparent leader.

  It was a long and treacherous hike through the jungle. Andie kept tripping and stumbling over the twisted roots and vines covering the ground and her captor would yank her back upright, his fingers nearly wrenching her arm from the socket. Her legs were starting to tremble in fatigue, her head was aching fiercely, and the cut on her arm was throbbing by the time she stumbled into a clearing behind the bearded leader. Then she gazed around in surprise. They were leading her into a small village. At least a dozen huts were scattered around an open paved plaza. To the far side was a large, modern looking building and beyond that she could see the outline of what definitely looked like a ship’s hangar.

  Ah ha, she thought hazily. I did find the smugglers after all.

  There were people hurrying from the big building, carrying loads of goods. The bearded man whistled, and one of the men clutching a big crate stopped for a moment. Andie forced herself to concentrate through the pain.

  “The Armada rats will probably be swarming the area soon. I’m giving you fifteen more minutes to have that warehouse empty.”

  “Yes, Tate,” the man replied looking harried.

  “Where’s Burke?” the bearded man named Tate asked.

  “At his ship. He’s waiting to leave until you pay him.”

  Without bothering to reply, Tate strode off toward the warehouse, the big man dragging Andie after him again. As they rounded the corner of the building Andie saw a thick metal pole that reached taller than all the buildings. At the top she could see a box emitting the largest, most convincing holographic projection she had ever seen.

  The shimmering patch of trees she had seen was some kind of holograph. No wonder nobody had found this place before. She barely had time to register this fact before she was pushed through a door into the ship hangar. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but when they did she stumbled back in horror. Her captor tightened his grip forcing her upright. Standing in front of them was a trio of the tallest men Andie had ever seen. Their hair was jet black, and all three had lined faces and wary eyes. But it was the skin that had startled her. It was tinted blue. Denicorizens. Here with the smugglers.

  Tate spoke shortly, gesturing back at her. Andie couldn’t make out the words, but she recognized enough from her studies with Kelly to be pretty sure he was speaking Denicorizen. Whatever he was saying, the Denicorizens weren’t thrilled with it. The front man of the three pursed his lips and walked up to her looking her up and down. He said something short back to Tate, who pointed off in the distance and replied briefly, shrugging his shoulders.

  The Denicorizen man snapped his fingers twice, and the two men behind him came forward and took her arms. Too late, Andie began to understand what was going on. In fury she screamed and twisted and kicked, but the men merely held her tighter and forced her toward the ship. She dug her feet into the ground and tried to bite the man holding her right arm, but suddenly she felt the prick of a needle on her other arm. Within just a few seconds her muscles went limp and no matter what she did, she couldn’t force her body to respond. The two men then carried her easily up into the ship, strapping her down on a pallet.

  They began asking her questions in heavily accented Basic, and she felt curiously happy to tell them everything they wanted to know. She told them all about herself, the base she was stationed at, the general routine of the skiff pilots, what their surveillance patterns were, what kind of security they provided to the plantation, and oh, all kinds of other questions. Finally, when the interrogation ended, she watched in detached interest as they gave her another injection, and within minutes everything went black.

  ♦

  When she eventually regained full consciousness, she felt awful. Every part of her body ached fiercely. She had vague dreams of waking periodically—or were they memories? Either way, she sensed that quite a bit of time had passed since her crash in Zoria. Raising her hand to her forehead, she touched what should have been a fairly fresh gash but felt nothing more than a
slightly tender scab. Frowning, she tried to figure out what she last remembered clearly. The smugglers had sold or given her to the Denicorizens, who had taken her aboard their ship and asked her a bunch of questions. Inwardly she groaned as the memory of the interrogation became clear. Had she really told them everything they asked? Without any hesitation at all? What had come over her?

  They must have injected her with truth serum. The planet Arueba made a truth serum that was supposedly used in some kind of religious ceremony involving confession, but it was strictly outlawed elsewhere in the Union. Her father had told her about it years ago, stating a bit regretfully that having some on hand to feed to clearly evasive daughters would have been useful. She had never heard that the truth serum paralyzed limbs also, but then no one she knew had actually seen it used before. For a moment she considered it thoughtfully, wondering if what she had told would do any real damage. Hopefully not. If Scott was smart, the minute she disappeared he would have changed everything that she had known about, just in case.

  She had disappeared. Would they figure out what had happened to her? Would they find her ship and piece together that she had been shot down? It was her only hope of being found, after all. Certainly as soon as the base had lost contact with her they should have sent out a search party, thoroughly combing the area. With a sinking sensation she realized that she hadn’t reported in for a while. So unless somebody back at base had been tracking her position the moment her ship crashed, they would be looking a hundred miles from where she had gone down. Abruptly she turned her thoughts to other channels.

  What did the Denicorizens want with her anyway? They hadn’t harmed her in any way, not that she could tell. They had interrogated her, yes, but how useful was any of that information to them? Why would they want to attack a plantation on Zoria? Or were they planning to use her as a hostage? Hoping for some kind of aid from the Union?

  “You’re awake,” rasped a voice from behind her head. Andie sat up abruptly and realized immediately she was not on the ship she last remembered. Instead she was laid out on the floor in some kind of a large transport with crates and boxes stacked all around her. Behind her a man was peering in through an open door.

  “Come with me,” he ordered. Andie shakily got to her feet. It felt like she hadn’t used them in ages. The man grasped her arm firmly, but it seemed more to steady her than to hold her prisoner. Maybe she would actually have a chance to escape!

  She followed him out the hatch and down a ramp, eagerly looking around for some sign of where she was.

  What she saw sent sudden waves of nausea running through her body. Everything was blue, a dark, moist-looking blue landscape stretching as far as eye could see, with not a plant in sight. She knew immediately where she was.

  The Blue Plains. Even on Zenith they had heard of Corizen’s famous blue mineral flats, where no kind of vegetation could take root. She was on the planet Corizen. Home was light-years away. Instantly she knew there was no point in trying to escape. Where would she go? How could she possibly get off this planet? Nobody officially traded with Corizen, and it was highly unlikely smugglers would take her back, seeing as they had brought her here in the first place. It was possible the Union had a diplomat or two here, but how would she find them? Wracking her brain, she couldn’t even think of what cities Corizen might have.

  The man at her side directed her to walk around the other side of the transport and she stiffly forced her legs to move. When she rounded the transport she gave another gasp of surprise.

  In front of them was a tall stone wall with two huge wrought iron gates standing over them. Set a little ways back from the wall she could see a massive pearly gray building that was at least six stories tall. It had graceful columns and huge, sparkling windows. The roof was made of maroon slated tiles. Best of all, through the gates she could see lush green bushes and tall, waving trees. The walk leading past the gates was lined with flowers. What was this beautiful place doing in the middle of the barren Blue Plains? As they stood in front of the imposing gates, Andie recognized the Denicorizen smuggler who had originally haggled for her, walking back down the flower-lined gravel path. He was followed by a tall, imposing man dressed all in glittery black. Another man, his head bowed in a subservient way, trailed behind.

  When the trio reached the front of the gates, the smuggler stepped back next to her and inclined his head toward the taller man. Andie felt like a small child before him as she raised her eyes to his face. He had to be seven feet tall at least!

  “She is certainly not a princess,” observed the man in flawless Basic, his eyes critically traveling all the way down her body. Andie flushed. She was still in her torn and stained flight suit, and her hair was filthy and matted. “But perhaps she will clean up well. I will pay you five hundred joyas for her.”

  Hot anger flooded Andie’s chest. Who did this man think he was? She was a Union Citizen, not some kind of livestock he was considering.

  “I don’t know who you are,” she said haughtily, “but I demand you set me free at once. I want to be returned to Zenith immediately.” The man ignored her as if she wasn’t there.

  One of the smugglers hesitated and then replied, “We can accept no less than 100 Union senines for her.”

  The tall man threw back his head and laughed. It was a cold, cruel laugh that sent chills down Andie’s back. Instinctively she knew this was not a man to be trusted.

  “Fifteen hundred joyas? You amuse me. I will pay you six hundred joyas, and you will count yourself well paid. Or you may find that on your next trip, your illicit activities have come to the attention of the King,” he returned with icy confidence. The men fell silent, muttering among themselves. Then the leader nodded and stepped forward to receive the money. The second smuggler pushed her toward the gates.

  “The Union will never stand for this,” Andie threatened the smugglers. “You can’t kidnap and sell Union Citizens! They will find out!” But she might as well have been speaking to the air. Everyone ignored her as if she hadn’t spoken.

  With the smugglers paid, the tall, cruel-sounding man turned and strode back through the gates without so much as sparing her a second glance. For a moment she considered making a run for it. But where would she go? Even if she could outrun everyone here, she had no idea where to run to. The barren plains offered no hiding places that she could see.

  Before she could decide what to do, the man who had stood deferentially to the rear of the group stepped forward and lightly took her arm. He was about her father’s age, she guessed, and dressed in a bright red shirt with baggy, worn pants. “Come,” he said, not unkindly. “Come, I get you clothes and food.” His Basic was slow and halting, and he mispronounced many of the words, but she could still understand him. “My name is Oanni,” he explained. “I am steward here.”

  With a last plaintive glance at the smugglers who were reentering their transport, she turned and trudged through the gates alongside Oanni. “You lucky I speak Basic,” he said, his eyes gleaming with pride. “Most servants here don’t.”

  “What is this place?” Andie finally asked.

  “The house of Master Jaory Kruunde,” he answered, his voice thick with reverence. Andie looked up at the beautiful building again. So this place was the home of one man? Even the main residence of the plantation she had protected back on Zoria hadn’t been so large. This Jaory must be a very wealthy man.

  “Was that . . . ?” She faltered for a moment, not sure what to call him. “Was that man in black the master?”

  “Good Master Jaory, yes. He is Noble born. I am only a low Servile,” he said humbly, touching a small mark on his neck, “but Master Jaory made me steward. He honors me,” Oanni explained as they neared the house. The gratitude in his eyes was apparent even to Andie. She realized that Corizen, at least this part of Corizen, must still have a distinct division of classes. She dug through her memory but could not remember le
arning anything about a class system on Corizen. Why, oh why, hadn’t she paid more attention in school?

  Finally, she ventured her most pressing concern. “What does Master Jaory want with me?”

  To this, Oanni made no answer.

  ♦

  They entered the house through a small side door nearly concealed by a stand of bushes. Inside, Andie expected splendors to match the outside of the house but was terribly disappointed. They were in a barren stairwell. It could have been an emergency stairwell in her own residence building back home. Oanni started to climb, and she trudged up the unpainted metal stairs after him. Her body ached in protest, and her head swam dizzily. Between the crash, the drug the smugglers had given her, the interstellar flight, and now adjusting to a new planet, she felt as though she just might pass out. Fortunately, when they reached the third landing Oanni pulled open the door and they passed into an equally bare hallway. By this point, Andie’s chest was aching fiercely and her legs trembled. At one of the doors lining the hallway, Oanni stopped and gestured for her to enter. She could barely turn the handle to open the door. Feebly pushing the door open she stumbled into the room, nearly into the arms of a startled woman standing just inside the door. The woman was slightly taller than herself, but strong, for she managed to hold Andie upright while she exchanged a few words with Oanni in Denicorizen.

  “I leave you with Randa,” Oanni said dismissively before striding back out the door. Andie heard a click as he locked it behind him.

  Randa helped her stagger to the bed and Andie dropped gratefully. Randa spoke to her, seeming to want an answer, but Andie didn’t have the faintest idea what she was talking about. At last Randa seemed to give up and she left the room, going through an open doorway on the side of the room. Andie glanced over her surroundings without interest. A plain bed, more a cot, really, with one blanket and no pillow. A small table next to the bed. A large, full length mirror on the wall near the door into the passageway. One very large window set exactly opposite from the door. It was not interesting enough to keep her mind off her protesting muscles.