Over the passed day Sierra had considered, more than once, putting her mission’s needs first and absconding with Jarred’s
borrowed
vessel, retrieving Orna, and making a much overdue run for home. Truthfully, she wasn’t entirely sure of what had kept her from already doing just that. Every fibre of her being was telling her, screaming for her, to cut Jarred loose and burn ion trails out of here.
Almost
every fibre. Something was holding her back. What was it? She didn’t owe Jarred anything. She had helped him as much as he had helped her out of the situation in Trycon. He
had
brought Orna to the city, of course, after Kam and Meera had been killed, though grudgingly. But that wasn’t why she was still here. Was it because of some misplaced sense of honor? She had agreed to help him in this rescue attempt, though she had only done so under the veiled threat of Jarred refusing them passage of his
borrowed
ship. By all rights, she
should
have abandoned him, just for that. She was sure he would have. Or would he?
Of course, there was also the matter of the tension that had been growing between them, though she refused to attribute it to any sort of
feelings
she might have for him. It was absurd to even consider that her tactical judgment might be impaired by something as trivial as that.
Yet, here she was.
“We’ve got movement,” Kern commented from over her shoulder, while pointing out through the viewport.
Sierra sat up in her seat, grateful for the distraction, her eyes immediately finding one of the facility’s many docking wells, where two vessels, as Kern had indicated, were beginning to depart. They had witnessed the smaller of the two ships’ arrival at the facility nearly twelve hours prior. With no outstanding features or markings, she couldn’t be certain of its purpose
or
its passengers, but was naturally suspicious, as always. Now that the mysterious vessel, accompanied by some kind of personnel carrier, was leaving, her suspicions were redoubled. She checked her monitor again, Kern glancing at the screen from over her shoulder as well.
“Should we follow it?” he asked.
Sierra let her gaze move back to the vessel and she continued to watch as it ascended beyond the edges of the viewport and out of sight. “No. We stay with Elora’s beacon.”
“For how long?” Kern asked.
Sierra gave Kern a speculative glance. How long indeed? They couldn’t remain here forever, waiting for something to happen. Sooner or later, no matter how effective the ship’s cloaking field was, they would be detected. Either when the power core drained, or when someone just plain bumped into them. If they continued to hear nothing from either Jarred or Elora, eventually they were going to have to make a call. That call would mean abandoning them here.
As unpleasant a thought as that was, she knew the more time that passed, the more likely it was they would be forced to make that choice.
* * *
Elora sat in her cold lifeless cell, her prison, feeling more alone than she thought was possible. Jarred had been gone less than an hour, but that didn’t keep it from feeling like an eternity. She was on her own now, but what scared her more than that, was the uncertainty. Who would come for her and when? What would they do with her when they did finally come? Where had Jarred been taken? What was happening to him? And Ethan. Had he made it out of this place? Was he still alive?
There were countless questions to keep her mind going in circles, ensuring that her nerves were sufficiently strained to their maximum, and with little else to occupy her thoughts, they continued to plague her. She considered what Jarred had said before being taken. To stay alert and ready. Ready for what exactly? Maybe he was attempting to keep her from driving herself crazy, like she was, by keeping her mind focused. Clear of all the uncertain things around her.
Jarred had said something else though. Something she continued to come back to. He had thanked her. For opening his eyes. Opening his eyes to what? Was he actually
thanking
her for all of the trouble she had gotten him into? That was a ridiculous thought. But what did he mean?
Hearing the regular hum of her cell’s barrier shield disengage, she was jolted from her thoughts, contemplation quickly turning to sickening fear. Panic. Forcing herself to take a breath, she attempted to calm the rapid pounding in her chest, trying to remember what it was Jarred had told her. She needed to keep her head. Stay focused.
Releasing the breath, she forced herself to turn and face what had come for her. She wouldn’t cower before her captors any longer. She wouldn’t give them that satisfaction. She would look them straight in the eyes, with all of the defiance she could muster and . . .
Shock took hold.
Frozen, Elora felt as though she had just run into a wall, the breath knocked from her chest. The set of eyes she was looking into were a familiar pair. One she had looked into countless times before. She felt tears come to her own eyes and stood, a bit unsteadily, unsure of whether or not what she was seeing was real. It couldn’t be real. She had to dreaming or hallucinating.
All of her doubts left her when he finally spoke.
“Elora!” Ethan ran through the open cell door to embrace her and she knew that he was real. She could feel him and she wrapped her arms around him tightly, not wanting to ever let go.
“Ethan,” she managed to speak, after finally pulling her face away from his so that she could look at him again. “What are you doing here?”
“Rescuing you, of course,” he answered, the mischievous grin, Elora knew far too well, coming to his face. Yet, in his features she saw that something had changed. He looked . . .
older
. His bright youthful eyes were somehow harder now. Aged by the things he had seen here. Things no one his age should be witness too. Though elated to know her brother was alive and well, the joy was accompanied by a sharp pang of regret. This place had stripped him of his remaining innocence and had changed him forever. The boy he had been only days earlier was gone. Ethan’s childhood was over. Elora embraced him again, holding him tightly.
“Alright, alright,” Ethan fussed, struggling free of her grip. “You’re happy to see me. I get it. But we need to get out of here.”
Elora nodded. He was right of course. They didn’t have time for a reunion right now. They needed to make their escape. But how?
That question raised a few others Elora had failed to register in the excitement of her brother’s arrival and she gave him a curious look. “Wait. How did you even get in here?”
The answer appeared over Ethan’s shoulder, carrying what appeared to be a severed security mech’s head. Tarik stepped into the cell doorway, appearing more fierce than ever. The mech head may have had something to do with that. Mac followed, looking rather anxious.
“Jarred told us where you were?” Ethan answered.
“Jarred?” Elora exclaimed, bringing her gaze back to her brother. “You talked to him? Where is he?”
“I didn’t actually
talk
to him,” Ethan answered. “But he gave me a signal. To come and rescue you.”
“Where is he now?” she pressed, eagerly.
Ethan’s look of enthusiasm diminished and the wave of hope Elora had felt at Jarred’s mention began to ebb with it. “He was being taken away by Sect troops,” he answered. “I don’t know where.” His eyes brightened again. “But he has a plan. I know it!”
Elora wasn’t so convinced. Had
this
been Jarred’s plan all along? To save her . . . by sacrificing himself?
“And
I
know,” Mac interjected, “that if we hang around here much longer, we’re all going to be the ones that need rescuing . . . again.”
“Mac’s right,” Ethan agreed. “We need to get out of here. All of us.”
“Yeah, all of us,” Mac echoed. “Wait. What do you mean, all of us?”
“I mean,” Ethan returned, his tone leaving no doubt as to his conviction,
“all
of us
. Everyone.”
Reminded of Jarred’s own words to her, Elora was ready to interject, but Mac beat her to it. “Whoa, kid. Slow down. I know what you’re thinking, but it’s going to be hard enough to make it out of here ourselves. Let alone with . . .”
“It’s not up for debate,” Ethan cut him off, the authoritative gesture seeming to surprise Mac just as much as it did Elora. “You can go if you want, but I’m not leaving before I’ve at least given them a chance to escape this place.”
Elora knew that she should be arguing with her brother. Convincing him that they needed to think about saving themselves now. But she didn’t. She was filled with a pride in him that made her chest swell. Ethan had been more than aged by his time here. Somehow, in the short time they had been separated, he had crossed the line from boy to young man. One ready to sacrifice himself for others.
“And how do you plan on doing that?” Mac asked, looking exasperated. It seemed he’d had a few such clashes with her brother, apparently having wound up on the losing side those other times as well. The thought made her grin, reminding her of her own relationship with Jarred.
Ethan seemed to think for a moment before pulling the portable positioner from Jarred’s pack. After a short review of it he turned towards the the cell door and headed off at a jog. “Follow me.”
SPACE, NEARING RYDEL
Surrounded by a multitude of faces, from a wide variety of humanoid through reptilian species, Jarred didn’t need to be an expert in xenology to be able to read their expressions. They were all terrified. Where they were going, he could understand why. They had good reason to be.
Jarred had heard plenty of stories about the blood arenas, none of them pleasant. Though Dominion law didn’t sanction the gruesome events, making them technically illegal, little to no policing actually went into shutting them down. As long as the arenas remained in the system’s dark and outermost areas, away from the delicate, well-to-do beings of the inner high class worlds, Dominion officials tended to leave them alone.
The arena on Rydel was his expected destination, as it was the closest one he knew of to Ryza, and the only one in Turaus’ lunar system. One of the gas giant’s smallest habitable moons, it was officially just another of the corporation’s many mining satellites, as Syntax would never openly associate itself with an illegal blood sport, just as it wouldn’t think of indulging in the slave trade. It would, however, siphon the considerable revenue stream generated by the large gambling rings that had grown around the gladiatorial events, while providing a source of entertainment for its more blood thirsty employees.
It seemed that Syntax had taken to combining its two dirty little secrets; two of the many he guessed; utilizing its expendable slave workforce, most likely the trouble makers and resisters, as fodder in the arena. He felt for the beings around him. He guessed they would all die today, some of them by his own hands possibly, if they were forced to combat one another for the amusement of the crowd. He wouldn’t enjoy it, but if it came to that, he would have to defend himself. He had to survive this. He had to help Elora Ethan. That came first.
At least now he knew for sure that Ethan was alright, though he hadn’t made for the ship as he had asked. He couldn’t say that he was surprised. Tarik hadn’t appeared at all happy about the idea of leaving his side and Ethan was a stubborn, fool hardy kid. He would have had as much luck convincing him to leave his sister as he had convincing Elora of as much.
When he had spotted Ethan and the others following him, he knew that they were intending to attempt some kind of rescue, one that surely would have failed, while probably getting them all killed or captured in the process. He had waved them off, directing Ethan instead to go back towards where his sister was still being held. Though Tarik would be torn again between serving and protecting him, Jarred hoped the Toguai would choose to protect Ethan, as he had before. With any luck, they had found Elora, disabled the minimal security in the small detention area, and were now making their way back to Sierra and Kern, or already had. He couldn’t know for sure, though, and wouldn’t. Not until he got himself out of his own mess.
The trek between moons was a fairly short one, to the disdain of most of the passengers onboard, the sound of the repulsers firing signaling the final stage of the transport’s landing sequence. The pungent air of fear, that already permeated the hold like a dense fog, surged as the vessel’s landing struts touched down, rocking the ship heavily. They had arrived.
Jarred took a calming breath, searching for his center. He found it quickly. It had been increasingly easy to do so since finding the sword. Or since it had found him. He wasn’t sure which of the two statements was more accurate. Even without it now, he still felt the same clarity that had come with being . . .
united
with it. He hadn’t been able figure out how the change had occurred, but at the same time, he wasn’t questioning it. The changes were welcome ones. He felt stronger, both in mind and body. Focus came with less effort. More than anything else, he was thinking clearly. Maybe for the first time in his life. And his mind was clearly focused on one thing only. Surviving whatever waited for him in the blood arena.