Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
Tai
Wherever they’ve got Bri, I hope she’s getting better treatment than this. All I’ve got is a dirty blanket and a rusted bucket. The smell wafting off the bucket makes its purpose unmistakable.
It’s not the first time I’ve been locked up. I’ve been in my fair share of station brigs growing up. When times were really bad, I’d purposefully get caught breaking some minor rule so I could get tossed in a cell just for the guaranteed bowl of noodles that came with it.
I must have been eight or nine years old the first time.
I had run away from the outpost for orphans where I was supposed to learn a trade.
We were shipped off to the Star Ash Collection Orbital, “SACO,” to do a dangerous and underpaid job nobody wanted.
Bots were too valuable. We weren’t. The only thing more dangerous than harvesting the collapsed star matter for production was the threat of my fellow wards.
SACO taught me one thing: the weak are at the mercy of the strong. I was scrawny and underfed and learned very quickly I would rather strike out on my own than stay there.
My first stop was Westgate Orbital IV. That first night the station manager caught me breaking into his office. It was a dumb move, but being tossed in the brig was a mercy compared to what he could have done. Stations are little kingdoms, and managers do whatever they want.
This one happened to be a good one. While we walked to the brig, he talked to me. He asked me about my upbringing and made me an offer I wasn’t ready to accept.
“I know what it’s like to scrape by. I’m gonna lock you up tonight and give you a hot meal. In the morning you can stay and get a job on the station, or you can move on. It’s your choice.”
Rather than accept the generosity of someone who wanted to help me, I snuck onto the next freighter and continued the destructive cycle.
I press myself against the far wall, away from the bucket, and slide down to sit on the ground. This far down, the air is cold and quiet. It would be easy to be forgotten here.
I grab the dirty blanket when the cold becomes too much. It’s riddled with holes and barely covers my shoulders. The miles in the sand are catching up with me. I fight the urge to close my eyes. I need to stay alert and figure out how to get out of here when the time is right.
I wake up at eye level with the rusted metal bucket and scramble back at the realization of how close it is. I kick the bucket across the room with a loud clang.
“What was that?” I hear outside the door. Fuck.
“Just having a problem with my arm,” I yell back through the thick metal.
“He’s awake! Go get Brethren,” another voice says. Fuck—there’s two of them.
“Which brethren?” the first one asks.
“The brethren who told us to get him when the prisoner wakes up.”
I can’t help but laugh at the back-and-forth. They must have these conversations constantly. It’s a ridiculous notion that they’re all the same. Any religion that makes you give up your identity to conform is beyond problematic. Plus, it’s completely impractical and ripe for misunderstandings.
“Oh yes, that brethren.”
Moments later, the door swings open and the Oo’rahim with the long beard steps in with a metal tray. He presses his hand to the panel lock, and the door rattles closed behind him.
“Here,” he says, pushing the tray toward me, the metal scraping harshly against the stone floor of the cell.
He signals for me to turn around so he can remove the cuffs. A few minutes of respite from the warning shocks are as welcomed as the tray of food on the floor.
I drink the small cup of water in one swallow. The thin slices of dried meat are barely edible—tough, tasteless, and a step below food for livestock. It’s not enough to fill my stomach, but it does help clear my head.
“Thank you. You don’t need to keep me down here. I’m just passing through,” I say between swallows. “You could send me on my way with a fresh canteen.”
“We will determine that ourselves,” he grumbles while he slaps the cuffs back on, but this time in front of me. My stoic face doesn’t betray my excitement.
He made a big mistake.
I relax my body to avoid the shock that comes with any resistance.
“We were unaware Tilaks were here with the Others,” he says, watching me closely.
This is the second time they’ve mentioned “the Others.” The visor only listed the Sabaaki and the Oo’rahim as inhabitants on this small planet. If there’s anyone else here, they have cloaking tech, which is not something the average citizen would have.
“I told you, I crashed here and am trying to get home.”
“If you aren’t here with the Others, then it is up to us to decide your fate,” he says.
He scans his palm on the panel next to the metal door. It slides open and he is gone. The sound of the bell and his mocking laughter fades as he climbs the stairs.
Left alone for a second time, I methodically scan every inch of the cell. The stone walls are carved right out of the ground. Air circulates through the fist-sized holes at the top of the wall.
The only way out is through that door.
With my wrists cuffed together, I work the panel away from the wall. It breaks loose and hangs from exposed wires. I assess what I’ve got to work with.
It’s old tech.
I shove my hands into the wires, doing my best to get the cuffs as deep into the mechanism as possible. With a deep breath, I tense every muscle in my body, activating the shock.
Everything goes black.
I wake up on the ground with a pool of bile next to my face. I groggily get up and check the door.
It swings open with a nudge. I take the stairs three at a time, keeping close to the wall and shadows.
I’ll grab Bri, figure out how to get these cuffs off, and get the fuck out of here.
At the top of the stairs, an Oo’rahim sits on a bench to the left.
The sad excuse for a guard is dozing off.
His head bobs up and down as he loses the battle to stay awake.
I patiently wait until his chin slumps to his chest. I shuffle my feet from the shadows to see if that rouses him.
He doesn’t even twitch—completely knocked out.
I edge along the wall, moving from one shadowed alcove to the next. The distant sound of bells gives me the confidence to move without fear of running into anybody.
I turn left at the first tunnel and duck into a shadowed doorway.
The door is cracked open. I look through the narrow space before stepping in and close myself in.
Through the complete darkness my hand brushes against the rough material of robes hanging in a long line.
I pull on a robe—not an easy task with my hands cuffed—and get a few warning shocks in the process.
It’s tight across my shoulders and hangs above my knees.
I must look ridiculous. No Oo’rahim would ever mistake me for one of their own.
I catch the sound of mumbling outside of the door. I shove my way behind the robes, crouch down, and lean my back against the cold wall. An Oo’rahim walks in with a flickering light.
I freeze. My pulse hammers in my ears so loudly it could give me away. The feet stop, turn, and face me.
I don’t breathe. I don’t move. Every second stretches on for a lifetime.
Then—finally—the light shifts. He turns back toward the door and slips out, taking the glow with him and plunging me into darkness once more.
I move swiftly and press my ear against the door. Through the hard wood I strain to hear the muffled voices.
“Where is she now?”
“She demanded to go back to her quarters. What were we supposed to do? Deny the goddess?”
Goddess? Did Bri convince these fucking idiots to worship her? In some way, I’m not surprised.
“She was not satisfied by our offers. We have failed her,” another voice says.
“We will try again, Brethren. Do not be dismayed.”
The bells trail off in the distance.
What is going on down here?