Rebel's Quest (26 page)

Andreia hardly heard the words. Her brain was in pure reaction mode, and she never wanted this moment to end. When it ended, they would have to return to the room where some of the rebels still waited for them. They would have to face reality, and reality dictated being parted from Roshan—for how long was written only in the stars. Instead, Andreia gasped aloud when Roshan left her mouth and kissed her way down her neck. “Yes, yes.”

Roshan caressed Andreia frantically, her hands greedy against her. When Andreia’s shirt came undone and Roshan’s touch was no longer on fabric, but on skin, Andreia whimpered quietly, her head tipped back. “Ro, oh, Gods, Ro!”

Roshan jerked, her hands still around Andreia’s breasts. “Gods, this is insane!” she groaned as she leaned forward and kept tasting Andreia’s skin. “For the love of the stars, I never meant for it to go this far. This is insanity.” There was agony in her voice as she pushed Andreia closer against the wall. “We should stop!”

Roshan broke free, and the sudden gush of cold air where her hot lips had just devoured her made Andreia sob and reach out.

“No.” Roshan backed off. She regarded Andreia with flaming eyes, her mouth pressing into a thin line. The silence between them grew, only interrupted by their rapid breathing, and that too mellowed after a while. Roshan made a dismissive gesture with her left hand. “Straighten your clothes and make yourself presentable. We have work to do.”

“Ro—”

“For skies and stars, remember to call me Paladin,
O’Daybo
.”

Andreia was astonished and hurt beyond words at how Roshan could switch from volcano to iceberg within seconds. The abrupt shift stung, and more than that, the stinging pierced her heart, left it to convulse alone and bleed. Her hands cold, Andreia tugged at her shirt and coveralls, pulling them up into something that could resemble tidy. She avoided looking at Roshan until she was done. Only then did she meet the ice blue gaze of the woman who’d held her in the most intense embrace Andreia had ever known. “There. I’m ready to go back.”

A muscle to the left of Roshan’s lips twitched. “Andreia, I—”

“O’Daybo.” Andreia pushed past Roshan and strode to the door. When she reached it, she looked over her shoulder, wondering if the shadows flickering over Roshan’s face mirrored her own pain. She told herself she didn’t care, but knew that was untrue. “Come on, then, Paladin. We can’t keep the Protector waiting.”

She left the room and didn’t stop a second time to check if Roshan was following her.

The rain on Gantharat didn’t just pour, it gushed from the gray skies, drenching everything completely. Owena and Andreia pressed against the wall of the dark gray concrete loading terminal as Owena scanned the premises.

“I read four guards on this side. This is it.”

Andreia nodded. “Yes. This is our chance to get to Vaksses.” She pulled the black fine-mesh hood down over her face, covering everything but her eyes. They needed to get inside and change into the gear the Onotharians issued the prisoners before they embarked to the smaller facility. Vaksses held members of the resistance who had just been rounded up and was meant to sustain up to a thousand prisoners before transport to the larger Kovos.

Checking her own scanner, Andreia punched in a few commands. “Let’s go. We have two minutes before the codes reset themselves.” She was deeply grateful for the SC device that allowed them to bypass the Onotharian seal on the doors. If it worked correctly, they would have disengaged the sensors and the alarm system for a few minutes. “O’Daybo to Paladin. We’re moving in.”

“Proceed with caution. We have you on sensors.”

As Paladin’s voice echoed through her eardrum from the tiny humanoid membrane earpiece, Andreia refused to listen to any special nuances in Roshan’s voice.

“Affirmative. O’Daybo out.”

With Owena right behind her, Andreia raced along the side of the building, making sure she was close to the wall the entire time. The concrete chafed the side of her coveralls-clad arm with a faint scraping sound. She could vaguely discern the outlines of the two closest guards through the dense curtain of rain. Part of her wouldn’t mind making sure these guards never bothered a Gantharian citizen again, but Andreia knew if she killed any of them, the Onotharians would lock down the facility and most likely delay the transport to Vaksses.

When Andreia and Owena reached the double doors, Owena used her scanner again. “No guards on the inside. Just like Boyoda’s intel stated, this holding terminal is almost entirely automated once the prisoners are inside. The Onotharians guard it from the outside.”

“A blessing for us,” Andreia said. “Not so great for the ones who figured that system out—they didn’t count on the scramblers we brought with us.”

“See, they work fine.” Owena chuckled as she pulled the lever. The doors hissed open without any resistance, and no alarm klaxons blared through the dusk.

“Good.” Andreia let go of the breath lodged in her lungs and followed Owena. SC technology came in very handy.

Inside, they ran through a long corridor leading to another set of double doors. Andreia scanned as she ran, and when everything read clear, she pushed one of the doors into its wall pocket.

Owena passed her and stopped just inside the threshold. “Look what’s here.”

Andreia stepped around her partner and stared at the long rows of coarse shirts and pants, stretching all the way through the long room, with an equally long counter running through the center of the room. No Onotharians were in sight, and Andreia guessed they were present only when a new prison transport arrived.

Owena’s voice was crisp. “This is where they hand out the uniforms. That way they homogenize the prisoners. Strip them of some of their personality.” “It’s easier to erase a person’s sense of self this way. Damn Onotharians.” She uttered the words in a quiet, decidedly lethal tone of voice. “Find some that fit you.”

Andreia didn’t dare ponder the Onotharian philosophy behind the uncomfortable, yet no doubt durable, clothes. She picked a set that looked her size and pushed her coveralls off her shoulders and down her legs. A set of recycling computers would take care of their clothes and headwear. Andreia and Owena dressed in the ill-fitting shirts and pants, which were scratchy; Andreia feared that the unforgiving threads in the seams would soon abrade her skin.
And some people have lived for years in these clothes. Perhaps even decades if they’re still alive.

“We’ve just got a few seconds to go through the next door.”

Andreia tossed her boots into the recycling computer and stuck her feet into the black, rubbery shoes provided by the Onotharians.

Owena looked grim. “You ready?”

“Let’s go.”

Owena picked up two small bags where she’d stashed their equipment. The material was easy to shape around her waist and attach with a belt. Also, it was made of an organic component that made it difficult, but not impossible, to be detected by scanners. They couldn’t risk bringing weapons, so their hand-to-hand combat skills were all they had.

After they rushed through the next set of doors, which led into a narrow corridor with a low ceiling, Andreia fought the urge to bow her head and hurried down the hallway. All this time she scanned with the SC-issue mini-scanner that was shorter and thinner than her index finger, but accurate. The readings indicated a large crowd of Gantharian biosignatures farther ahead. Soon they’d be among the other prisoners, with no chance of getting out.

*

“Get in line! If you give me any trouble, I’ll shoot. Fucking Gantharian trash!” The tall, burly Onotharian’s voice boomed within the large holding station as he spat in Kellen’s direction. Kellen in turn made a production of clinging to Doc, her “husband,” as she stuck to her role. She’d been bumped into by people and shoved from one end of the vast room to the other. The fabric of the clothes she and Doc had stolen in a storage room made her skin itch. Sweat ran down her back, making her irritated skin burn.

Earlier, Roshan, Jubinor, and Rae had created an effective diversion, designed to trick the Onotharians into believing someone was trying to spring a few of the prisoners. Now the Onotharians were patting each others’ backs for managing to deter the resistance’s attack. Instead, Doc and Kellen had broken into the huge building, temporarily housing more than four thousand detainees, soon due for transport to Kovos. The prisoners had all gone through a screening of sorts, to determine if they were high-ranking or important enough to qualify for the Vaksses asteroid. The rest, the regular resistance fighters, were all packed away like this and herded into vast transporters bound for the Kovos asteroid where, rumor had it, every prisoner had to fend for himself. Because the prison had a minimal number of guards, and nobody to keep order, Kellen could only guess what conditions were like up there.
I’ll find out soon enough.

A young woman to Kellen’s left howled, “No, no, oh Gods, no!” She bent over and clutched at the wall with one hand and wrapped the other arm around herself.

“We have to help her.” Kellen tugged at Doc, who was busy keeping them both safe and on their feet. The crowd moved in waves, and soon they would send the woman almost toppling over again.

Several times, the Onotharian guards had engaged a particularly cruel way of keeping the rebels in check. If an uproar seemed to be brewing, or the prisoners were merely scuffling somewhere, the guards sent an electrical shock through the metal alloy floor. It hurt enough to make most of the prisoners cry out, and it had already happened three times since Kellen and Doc had entered the room.

“Come,” Kellen insisted. “She’s about to collapse.”

Doc pulled the young woman with them down to a kneeling position. “This way we won’t fall so far if we’re knocked over. I hope they don’t zap us again.” He held the young woman steadily by the shoulders, examining her closely with his firm gaze. “I’m a doctor—”

“It’s too late. I’ve bled since I was captured. I’m going to lose my baby!”

Kellen’s heart stopped for a few seconds before it began to thunder. “You’re pregnant?”

“I am, I was…I’m losing it!”

“Don’t jump to conclusions. Let me do what I can for you.” Doc pulled a small pouch from under his armpit. Opening it, he produced a new sort of tricorder, a device given to him by Admiral Jacelon. Kellen watched him handle the advanced medical scanner almost lovingly as he ran it across the woman’s body. He let it hover a centimeter from her abdomen, then examined the readings.

“Well?” Kellen was impatient and nervous. Her arm was behind the woman, and she stroked a thin, almost skinny, shoulder.

“Ma’am?” Doc asked the young woman. “What’s your name?”

Obviously a seasoned resistance member, despite her age, she looked up at them with suspicious eyes. “Sarambol.” Obviously her call sign.

Clever girl.
Kellen held Sarambol tighter when the slender body shook under her touch.

“Oh, please.” Sarambol now expressed barely more than resigned pain. Her blue-black hair, cut in a short, almost childlike hairdo, lay matted against her scalp, and sweat beaded on her pale blue forehead.

“Good news, for now, Sarambol,” Doc said, and put the scanner back. “Your child is alive and well.” He felt the still-flat stomach. “However, this environment isn’t exactly helping.”

“That’s an understatement.” Kellen felt elbows hit her in the head repeatedly, but couldn’t become angry, knowing they belonged to people who’d fought for their freedom for so many years. “Let’s get her over there, in the corner.”

An elderly woman, far too old, Kellen thought, to be an active rebel, occupied part of the floor space in the corner. She tried to move out of their way as Doc and Kellen half dragged, half carried Sarambol there.

“No, no. Stay where you are. You’ll get trampled if you move out there.” Kellen pulled the older woman closer. “This young woman is pregnant and not feeling well. We’re afraid she may lose her child if they knock her around any more.”

“I’ll keep an eye on her,” the woman said, and wrapped an arm around Sarambol’s shoulder. “I’ve seen her in here before. I was by the other wall a couple of days ago, and it took me a full day to move to this corner. I tried to walk along the walls, but I kept falling—”

“You hurt?” Doc asked and produced the scanner again.

The woman watched his ministrations with keen eyes. “That’s some impressive equipment,” she murmured. “It looks like a deep-tissue scanner, but it must also have an analytical chip, since you can get blood value, oxygen reads, and tissue cellular pressure and metabolic data.”

Doc’s head snapped up. “You a doctor?”

“No, I’m not.” The woman smiled wryly. “That would’ve been the more useful occupation right now, but I am…used to be, an engineer. I’m too old to bother with call signs anymore. My name is Mandira O’Pedge. I used to teach and work out of the Tamanor Laboratories at the Iriosi Institute.”

“And you’ve been in the resistance since day one. Your call sign is Berope.” Kellen spoke softly, suddenly realizing who this woman was. “You’re an icon to most rebels. We wouldn’t have the technical development that we’ve had, despite the Onotharians, if it wasn’t for you.”

“Who are you? How do you know about me?” Mandira squinted at Kellen with clouded, light blue eyes.