Sarah Zettel: Reclamation

Basq laid his hand on the door and spoke. Eric touched his translator. Whatever language Basq used, the disk in his ear couldn’t cope with it.

“The stones are being brought back,” Basq announced. “Tell her that and then tell her we will have her cooperation.”

This time, Eric relayed the message word for word.

“As soon as the stones are in my hands, I’ll answer whatever he asks me.” The Notouch kissed her fingertips and held her hand toward the ceiling to send the words from her mouth to the ears of the Nameless.

Eric translated her words faithfully. Basq stayed silent this time and Eric took that to mean “good enough.”

For now, anyway.

The cell door swished open and a slender Vitae, as bald as Basq, handed the Ambassador an opaque plastic tray. On its ribbed surface rested a trio of polished spheres, each the size of a baby’s fist and the color of winter ice.

Eric sucked in a deep breath.

“Arias.”

The Notouch pushed past Eric and snatched the spheres up. One at a time, she held them toward the ceiling. The light glinted against their curved sides.

“What did you say?” demanded Basq.

“Arias.” Eric repeated as the Notouch turned her treasures over in her hands. “It means star, or eye, or, well, diamond, I suppose would be close. I’ve only ever seen one set. In the Temple vaults in First City. No one’s found any new arias in…hundreds of years.” He stared at the Notouch. “Aria Born of the Black Wall,” he murmured her name. “Where did you get those?”

“They’re my namestones.” Apparently satisfied that the spheres were genuine, she began unwinding her headcloth. “You’d be surprised, Teacher, what you find in the swamps.” Ignoring the fall of tangled, black hair that dropped across her cheeks and shoulders, she wrapped a fold of cloth around the stones. With practiced motions, she knotted the material to make a long-handled pouch.

Basq nodded to the messenger. He tucked the tray under his arm and touched the door.

“Now we will begin,” said Basq.

Eric opened his mouth. Before he could speak, a blur of motion cut across his peripheral vision.

THUNK!

Basq toppled to the floor. The Notouch whirled her pouch and swung it down. The stones cracked against the messenger’s skull and he fell in a heap next to Basq.

The door opened. Eric stared at the fallen bodies.

“Move, you high-house fool!” shouted the Notouch.

Eric’s senses and reflexes reasserted themselves. He shoved his foot against the threshold to keep the door in place and scanned the corridor. Empty, but that didn’t mean safe. The Vitae had to be watching them. There was nothing he could do about that.

Eric sprinted down the hall, vaguely aware of running footsteps behind him. From here, he could see the door to the main station shut tight. He did not allow himself to think about how the floor of the empty corridor could be brought to life at the touch of a remote key.

Eric skidded to a halt in front of the door. There was no time for finesse or distraction. He laid his palms on the thin line where the door met the wall and reached deep into the back of his mind, down into his soul where his power gift lay. He opened a path for it to stretch down his arms and out through his fingertips. Its tendrils coiled around the slender, metallic bars that held the door shut.

“Break,” he ordered.

His gift seized the bars. Eric’s heart froze. The lock cracked sharply and his heart beat again, hammering against his ribs. Eric pressed hard against the door and leaned sideways. The door slid back. Pain shot up his legs and Eric doubled over. A hand seized his arm, dragging him into the open station hallway.

“Which way out!” The Notouch stared wildly around her.

For a second, Eric wondered what she was talking about, then he remembered she had no idea where she was. He had no time to explain. There were six stories of station between him and the dock that held the U-Kenai. A call had probably already gone down to security.

They’ll hold the ship, seal the docks. Watch both. They’ll close my access to the networks, and watch the halls. When they see me, they’ll come get me. He glanced up at the security cameras. Hello, there.

His mind raced down unfamiliar paths. There’ll be two guards, three, maybe. Darts, tasers, and uniforms. Orders to take me quietly. Don’t panic the paying customers. He eyed the passing crowd, each one of them a paying customer. Don’t damage the goods either, I hope.

Eric ran. He dived into the crowd, shoving aside anyone who didn’t get out of the way fast enough. He risked a glance behind him. Aria followed his mad dash, almost overtaking him.

The jumble of faces and colors broke apart to give him a clear path to the farthest corridor entrance and he raced toward it.

Footsteps pounded the floor behind him and he fervently hoped they were Aria’s. Eric pushed a man in trader’s motley into the wall and hurdled a maintenance drone. The footsteps closed, but no shouts to stop came.

Eric ducked around a left-hand corner and yanked on the emergency override for the security door. Alarms blared and the door came open. Eric swung himself up the maintenance ladder. As he did, he saw Aria duck through the threshold, her poncho flapping around her. She took the time to slam the door shut before she grabbed the ladder rungs to follow him.

Up. All the way up, until the metal rungs bit into his hands and his heart pounded in his throat.

They could shut the hatches, trap us. Send guards in to get us. No. They figure why bother? They know where I’m going. Only one place I could be going from here. They’ll already have guards there. Why not wait for me to turn up?

Guards trained to use their weapons. The ones who’ve been told by the Rhudolant Vitae I’m unarmed and she’s primitive and neither of us know what we’re doing.

Idiots. You’ve only seen one part of my life.

Three bulkheads passed by them. Four.

“How big is this place?” gasped the Aria.

Eric didn’t have the breath to reply.

Five. Six. He stepped off the ladder and pulled the release for the door. It slid aside. Past it waited the corridor to the airlock that was sealed to his ship. The big hatch to the main station had been closed. A red light shone on the the airlock door. Sealed for security reasons. Two men and a woman in crisp, black coveralls stood between him and the airlock. All three of them were armed with tasers, which were out and ready.

Eric’s ears rang from exertion and adrenaline. “Soldiers,” he said to Aria between gulps of air. “The things in their hands are distance weapons, like slings.”

Do I still remember how to fight? He raised his hands slowly until they were over his head. Do I still remember anything?

“That’s it,” said the broader of the two men. “Easy now. You too, woman. Hands up.”

Aria stared at the guard, and then at Eric, her mouth open in disdain and shock.

“Don’t do it,” he said urgently.

“Then who will?”

Aria ripped her homemade sling off her belt and whirled it over her head. Before she brought it down, the woman guard took her aim calmly and fired. The laser wires snaked out of the barrel and sank into Aria’s chest. The shock ran into her and she screamed. The sling crashed against the floor and Aria dropped next to it, curled up like a fetus. All the guards watched her fall.

Eric lunged. His hands clamped down on the nearest guard’s outstretched arm and swung him around. The guard crashed into his comrade and they both reeled against the wall. A laser clattered to the floor. Eric slammed the edge of his hand against the first guard’s throat. The man gurgled and collapsed. The second guard reached across the fallen body and grabbed Eric’s shoulders, effectively blocking the woman’s aim. Eric flung himself sideways. He and the guard both hit the deck. With a wrench, Eric rolled them over until he came out on top. He shoved the heel of his hand against the man’s nose. Blood spurted across his palm and the guard went limp.