Rebel's Quest (34 page)

Owena stepped up to her side. “All right, people,” she called, to drown out the murmur among the rebels. “We’ve come this far, and now it’s time to move on. There are still more guards, possibly even more spies, to deal with, so stay sharp and on your guard.”

“And then what?” a woman shouted from the back.

“We wait for the backup.”

“Unless we’re dead already,” a man muttered, but quieted as people nearby glared at him.

Andreia walked toward the next exit, a barred door that was only half closed, and hoped they didn’t encounter any more surprises.

“Right about now would be a good time to break through from the other side,” Owena muttered as she walked next to Andreia. Her long decisive stride indicated that she was a martial arts master, and her eyes had become several shades darker since the fighting began.

“They’re here. We felt them.” Andreia carefully stuck her head out the door, but didn’t see anyone. Frowning at the empty corridor, which seemed too good to be true, she motioned Owena to follow her and for Eosomas to keep the others behind them quiet.

Andreia and Owena crept out into the corridor, weapons raised, aimed at the ceiling. “Any risk of automated backup systems against fugitives?” Owena whispered.

“Not that I know of,” Andreia said, and shook her head. “This facility was operated manually, with surveillance, and also with special facilities for…interrogation.” She swallowed back the bile that rose at the thought of the atrocities her people had committed. “Since they consider the prisoners here high-ranking rebels, their methods to make them talk are…” Andreia couldn’t finish.

“Atrocious?”

“Yes.”

They moved down the corridor with a large crowd of rebels, surrounded by an eerie silence. They were almost at the door when a deafening roar sounded, and an unforeseen force lifted them like a giant’s hand. Andreia lost all sense of what was up or down until her body slammed into the floor.

*

Roshan moved past the row of marines who held twelve Onotharian guards at gunpoint. “Is this what’s left of the entrance?” she asked Jacelon, who strode beside her. “That was quite some blast.”

“Yes, but apparently necessary. The doors were made of a ceramic-grid armored alloy that required a four-spread plasma charge.”

“I can smell it.” Roshan hoisted her rifle and pushed through smoke and debris, eager to find Andreia. The smoke coming from behind the shattered doors still prevented them from seeing properly, and Roshan made sure her plasma-pulse rifle was set to heavy stun. She didn’t want to accidentally kill one of their own.

“Over there,” Jacelon said, advancing right behind her.

Roshan glanced over her shoulder. Four marines were taking up the rear. “What?”

“There.” Jacelon pointed in a ninety-degree direction. “The side corridor. I thought I saw someone, or something, on the floor.”

Roshan had completely missed the narrow corridor to their right. Noticing faint shadows on the floor about twenty meters inside, she wanted to rush forward and search for Andreia among the fallen bodies obscured by the smoke. Biting the inside of her cheek, Roshan harnessed her gut reaction and advanced in the cautious manner that had kept her alive the last twenty-five years. The ventilation system was still intact, and as the smoke began to evaporate, Roshan spied a reddish, curly head, belonging to a much-too-still form on the floor.
Andreia!

Roshan dashed toward her, weapon still ready. As she came closer and the last of the smoke disappeared, she saw many more people slowly begin to move on the floor farther down the corridor. They pressed their hands to their heads and staggered to their feet, moaning.

“Cover me,” Roshan said to Jacelon, who responded with a brief nod. Her face was serious and the steely gray in her eyes unwavering.

Using her shoulder-strap, Roshan pushed the rifle onto her back, throwing herself to her knees next to Andreia’s still body. Next to her, Owena sat up, grimacing as she reached for her weapon. “Admiral?”

“You’re safe, Commander. We’ll have you out of here soon. How are you feeling?”

Roshan listened to Owena assure the admiral that she was fine. She leaned down and brushed Andreia’s hair away from her pale face. Her eyes were closed, and it took Roshan a few heart-rending seconds to realize that Andreia was breathing.
Oh, Gods!
Roshan felt for Andreia’s pulse, and to her relief it was strong and even. “Hey, you. Andr…O’Daybo? Can you open your eyes for me? It’s Paladin.” Struggling to maintain her composure, she leaned closer, her lips just above Andreia’s ear, whispering. “Please, open your eyes. Andreia. It’s Roshan. Come on!”

Andreia was still for another worrisome moment, and then she moaned and turned her head. “Ro?”

“Yes, it’s me, Paladin,” Roshan said, louder, and hoped Andreia would catch on despite being woozy after the blast. “Can you sit up? Are you injured?”

“Eh, no…I’m all right. I just…Oh!” Andreia sat up too quickly and slumped to one side. She leaned heavily against Roshan, who steadied her.

“Careful there. Not too fast.” Roshan looked around. Most of the people were standing now, except two of the older ones. Some of Roshan’s crew had arrived while she was leaning over Andreia and were now acting as medics.

Andreia finally stood, her knees sagging a bit, and she leaned against the wall, clutching her left elbow.

“I thought you said—” Roshan moved closer and reached for Andreia’s injured arm.

“I’ll be fine, Paladin.” She looked at Roshan pensively, her eyes pale, no doubt from fatigue and pain, and she pulled out of reach. “I can manage.”

Roshan tried to convey more than she could say at this time with her gaze. “I know you can,” she said softly. “I…I was worried about you. Very.”

Andreia stopped rubbing her elbow and tipped her head back, squinting up at Roshan. “Were you? I mean, were you really?”

“Yes.” Though this was not the time or the place, it was the simple truth within a not-so-simple reality. “Yes. I was.”

With her arms folded, Andreia nodded slowly, a thoughtful expression on her face. “I’m glad you’re here. All of you.” Something caught her eyes. “Oh, look.” Now a lot steadier on her legs, she brushed past Roshan. “Eosomas? Is he going to be all right?”

Roshan saw a man lying on a narrow stretcher carried by two of her crew. “Berentar!” She hurried to his side and stood next to Andreia, who’d taken the cell leader’s hand in hers.

“Didn’t I tell you, Berentar?” Andreia said, her voice trembling. “I said she’d come.”

“Yes. You did.” Berentar looked up, surprising Roshan with a steady gaze in his weathered face. “Jubinor?”

“Is back at base camp, working as our coordinator. Once you’re on my vessel, you can contact him. We just need to have a doctor look at you first.”

“Fine. Now, go and do your job, rebels.”

“Yes, sir.” Roshan smiled. “See you later.”

As her crew members carried Berentar toward the exit, Roshan studied the situation. The rebels were moving out in a steady stream, and she realized that more of her ships must have docked at the asteroid. “Let’s get out of here. I have to get the
Iktysos
ready for Kovos. We’re using it as the hospital ship, and from what I’ve heard from Kellen, they need us desperately.”

“I’d imagine so.” Andreia looked ready to fall over. “I can’t understand why I’m so tired.”

“That plasma charge almost blasted you out into space. I mean, it hit you first, so you took the brunt of the impact. It was like having ten angry maeshas kick you.”

“I think that sums it up.” Andreia smiled faintly. “Still, I’ve been on physically more demanding missions than this. I just don’t get it.”

Roshan had her own ideas why this mission had been more taxing for Andreia, but couldn’t risk talking about it here. “I have to get back to the bridge. I know you’re supposed to…Hey!” Roshan caught Andreia when she staggered to the right. “I was just going to suggest we let our doctor look you over. Now I insist.”

“All right.”

Roshan had expected Andreia to argue, but when she didn’t, Roshan was really worried.

Kellen moved lithely through the barely lit corridor of level minus three. The doors to the cells were black, with an irregular pattern of rust. The men and women Corgan and Bellish had chosen to assist them in their rescue attempt hurried behind her with all four bottles full of the special combustive powder tucked in their waistbands. Kellen hoped they wouldn’t need them, but was fairly sure they might.

She stopped by the last door, unlike the other doors she’d seen on Kovos, and reached under her shirt. Pulling out the pouch Doc had lent her, she removed a small item encased in synthetic-humanoid tissue, which was the only way to get it past the security checkpoints. Kellen inserted the small item into the lock and pressed a sensor. A buzzing sound, followed by a faint click a while later, and the door opened an inch. “I’ve unlocked this one, Ayahliss. You remember how I showed you before?”

Ayahliss nodded. “I’ll open the others while you start helping the poor devils out.”

“Good. Hurry!”

“Like a flash.” Ayahliss grinned and ran to the next door, the instrument clutched against her chest.

Kellen and Corgan pushed the door open and found the room pitch black and reeking of urine. “Hello,” Kellen called, making sure her voice was gentle. “We’ve come to get you out. We won’t hurt you.”

“Hello?” a raspy, weak voice said from the far end.

“We need light in here. Cover your eyes.” Corgan took a bottle from his belt. “Here we go.” He clicked two small stones with his right hand, and Kellen had to admire how swiftly he set the powder on fire.

The room brightened, but at first Kellen couldn’t see anyone. In one corner stood a bucket, most likely responsible for the horrible stench. Then she saw a small bundle of blankets in the corner, which she realized must be the prisoner’s bed. “Bed” was too kind a word, for it was two or three blankets directly on the floor. Kellen hurried over to the corner and fell to her knees. “My name is Kellen. We have to hurry. Let me help you up.”

“Kellen…” Corgan said warningly.

“I know.” Kellen didn’t look away. She peeled the blanket back, and what she saw brought instant tears to her eyes. A small woman, it was impossible to judge her age, trembled under the blanket, her eyes squeezed shut. Her long, blond hair was mashed to her head, and she was beyond thin. “Oh, Gods…Come here.” Kellen didn’t care if the woman smelled; she just wanted her out of there. She reached down and lifted her. “Corgan, one of the clean blankets?”

“Here.” Corgan placed the blanket he’d carried slung across his shoulders over the woman. “I’m Corgan. Who are you, child?”

Child?
Kellen looked at the almost-weightless burden in her arms. Now when Corgan held the bottle-lamp closer, she saw that this woman wasn’t very old.

“I’m Eren,” she whispered, her voice clearly unused for a long time.

“Come on then, Eren,” Kellen said. “Some people will carry you upstairs. We’re leaving.”

Eren closed her eyes and nodded, apparently too stunned to say another word. Outside, Kellen handed her over to another woman, who tucked the blanket tenderly around her. “I’ve got you, dear.”

“We need help!” voices called out, and Kellen saw Doc enter a room four doors down. She hurried over and ducked her head as she entered the room. Three other people were already in there, so she stopped just inside the door. “What’s wrong, Doc?”

“We have a problem.” Doc’s voice was strained. “This is…a whole new version of Onotharian cruelty.”

Kellen frowned, and as she pushed between the two men who’d entered the room first, she heard one of them murmur a Gantharian prayer. Kneeling next to Doc, Kellen looked at what had to be a preview of hell. “Doc—”

“I know. I know.”

“Can you do anything?”

He ran his medical scanner over the shivering bundle on the blankets. “For her, perhaps. For the child, I don’t know.”

“I have…breastfed…him.” The woman in the death cell was breathing fast and shallow. “I know…I have no nourishment to offer him. But fluid. At least.”

“She’s right.” Doc scanned the baby again. “What’s your name?”

“Illina.”

“Illina, how old is your child?”

“I’m not…sure.” Several breaths later she continued. “No sense of time. Maybe five days? A week?”

“You gave birth to him here, on your own. I can see from all the dried blood on your blankets. You’re a brave woman. Let’s get you out.” Doc reached for the child, but the woman held on to her baby and stared at them with blue-rimmed eyes. “No.”

A tall man stepped forward. “I can carry both of them. Hold on to your baby with one hand and me with the other, all right?”

The woman nodded slowly and raised her free arm, then clung to the man’s neck. Another man tucked a clean blanket around them as they walked outside.

“We’d better hurry, even though we need to be careful with these people,” Kellen said. “I’m sure the Onotharians monitor their death-cells so they know when their victims die. They probably have people on a waiting list for this sort of punishment.”