Traitors, p.3
Traitors, page 3
“Do not move. Just listen. In fifteen minutes, the shuttle will leave this ship for Golga. It will land in the Port City to deliver some wine we picked up yesterday. I will leave your door open. If you can find your way to the shuttle, then you will have a chance. They hate the Kingdom in Golga, but if you get through and cover that caste mark, you might be okay. It is the best I can do for you. It is all I can do for you. If you get caught, I will deny any knowledge of this. Do you understand?”
Diate swallowed. His throat was dry. He nodded once.
“Good. I will leave. You must count to thirty before you stand up. That way we will not be seen together.” Sehan released Diate. “Good luck.”
Diate took a deep breath. His mouth hurt from the pressure of Sehan’s hand. Sehan slid through the door and left it open. Light from the corridor flooded the room, giving the furniture a gray, almost invisible quality. Diate counted, and did his warm-up stretches. Fifteen minutes was barely enough time to make it to the shuttle bays. Sehan did not make it easy for him.
When he reached thirty, Diate went to the door, and looked both ways. The corridor was empty. A few yards away was a core stairway for staff members. He remembered it from the map he had memorized. He was afraid to try the doors, afraid to wake someone up. But he had never used an elevator, and didn’t want to try with time so short.
Finally he passed a door in the right position. He turned the knob and shoved the door open. It revealed a platform that led to a ladder, hidden in a small, circular shaft. Warm air rose, fueled by an invisible breeze. The shaft smelled of oil and plastic. Diate walked to the edge, gripped the ladder, and started up.
He played a march tune in his head, moving his feet and hands in time to the music. The march would keep his movements constant. If he hurried, he had more opportunities to hurt himself, to slip or miss a rung. He tried not to think of the time deadline, but it insinuated itself into the tune in his head.
Step.
Step.
Another minute.
Step.
Step.
Out of time.
The tune repeated itself three times before he reached the top. He yanked open the door on the main level, and found himself in a shuttle bay, like the one the Queen used near her palace in the Kingdom’s only city, Tersis. This bay had no windows, only large oversized doors that blocked his entry to the flight deck. Two shuttles were directly in front of him. The third sat in the distance.
Only one had its running lights on, and he hurried over there, as a large bang echoed in the room.
The shuttle’s door was open. The pilot reached out and yanked Diate aboard.
“Thought you weren’t going to make it, kid,” the pilot said.
She pressed the control and the door slid shut. Through the windshield, Diate saw the bay doors rising, revealing the darkness beyond. His heart continued its panicked rhythm. What would have happened to him if the doors had opened when he was outside the shuttle?
The pilot resumed her seat. She was half his size, with delicate hands and ebony skin. Her blue, almond-shaped eyes marked her as Vorgellian.
Of course. Only Vorgellians knew how to operate the shuttles.
“Sit down and strap in,” she said.
Diate took the seat beside her and looked for a strap. Finally she reached around and pressed a lever. Two heavy bands of cloth bound his lap and chest, leaving his hands free.
“We got a few hours,” she said. “So try to relax.”
Relax? How could he relax? He could barely control his breathing. He had escaped the Kingdom twice in one week. And each time, he had gone somewhere worse. He had heard stories of Golga. The Golgoth enjoyed executions. People said the Golgoth laughed while Kingdom members burned alive.
Diate shut his eyes. Sehan believed Diate could pass. Diate hoped Sehan was right.
Chapter Two
Diate’s first view of Golga came through the windshield of the shuttle. Dawn had broken over the ocean. They were high enough that Diate saw dozens of small islands dotting the choppy water, their long black shadows stretching out in the distance. Some of the islands were merely oversized rocks. Others were large enough to support settlements, although most did not.
The number of islands grew as they got closer to Golga. The shuttle had backtracked the ship’s passage, flying over the Kingdom just before the sun had risen over the horizon. Diate was glad. He didn’t want to see the trees and the low hills from the air. He especially didn’t want to see Tersis and the shining towers of the palace reflecting the sun.
The shuttle’s mechanic hum made conversation difficult. That was fine with Diate. He needed to watch, and think, and absorb.
Golga was a surprise.
An island twice the size of any he had ever seen appeared before the shuttle. It had true mountains, large and gray, touched with jagged white caps that he assumed were snow-covered. For a moment, he thought that was all he would see, then the shuttle flew over them, and the mountains tapered down into a lush greenness.
No trees graced the surface. Only measured plots outlined by brown lines he assumed to be roads. An occasional tiny building stood on the plots. As the shuttle dipped lower, Diate saw a rail line and a huge electric plant.
Diate clasped his hands together. The bucolic vision did not soothe him. Instead, the fear he had been fighting almost strangled him. Golga and the Kingdom had been enemies for over a century. They did not battle in the traditional sense. They interrupted each other’s trade, spied on each other’s businesses, and made plans for overthrowing each other’s governments. Defectors were killed.
Nothing is ever easy, Myla had told him when he complained that a dance move was too hard. Everything in life will give you a trial.
The shuttle banked and left the electric plant behind them. The roads got wider, and from the side window he could see an electric railcar chugging below. It looked like one of his brother’s toys.
People did live down there. People who killed Kingdom members.
He glanced around the shuttle, wondering how he could have felt safe here, even briefly. He sat in the seat beside the pilot. Behind them, rows and rows of boxes were stacked tightly together. The cabin smelled faintly of wine. He had seen other shuttles. This one was tiny compared to them.
Yet the pilot expected him to hide when they landed. He saw nowhere to go.
They banked again. As the shuttle lowered, the mechanical hum grew. He kept his gaze focused on the windshield. A large, gray city rose before him. Towers stood in the distance, flanked by the ocean. Golga was an island, but it was a large island. On this side, no mountains blocked the natural port. He had seen pictures of Golga’s harbor, which was, in fact, a large inlet, twice the size of any other harbor on the settled islands. On the far sides of the inlet, the mountains tapered down into small hills that disappeared into the water.
The city seemed to go on forever. As the shuttle lowered, he saw row after row of matching homes. The homes got smaller as they got closer together, until they became two story buildings with balconies. Apartment buildings. He had heard of them, but never seen them.
In the center of the city, four tall rectangular buildings stood around a wide expanse of green. On the other side of the grass and trees stood an even taller building which looked from the sky like an oversized skull. The Golgoth’s palace. Diate had seen pictures of that, too.
If he wasn’t careful, he would die there.
They flew over the palace. Diate’s knuckles turned white as he pressed his hands even tighter together. Finally, he could see the harbor. It was filled with ships of all shapes and sizes. Large port buildings blocked entry to the water itself. And to one side, various oddly shaped buildings stood behind a large fence.
The pilot pulled up the wire that had been dangling below her chin. A small black rectangle fit in front of her mouth. She pushed a button on the console, then spoke into the rectangle. She wasn’t talking to Diate.
He had heard of such communications devices, ones that allowed the words to travel great distances, but he had never seen them. He stared at her for a moment, then turned his attention back to the window.
The shuttle flew over a flat open surface tucked between the edge of the coastal mountains and the open harbor. As they got closer, Diate saw the familiar gleaming metal of a Vorgellian structure. Even the Golgans bought their technology from the Vorgellians. Diate had always thought the Golgans could do anything.
“I thought this was a rich place,” he said.
The pilot laughed. She put her hand over the mouthpiece. “It is,” she said. “They just don’t believe in beauty.”
The shuttle lowered until it hovered above the concrete expanse. The bay doors were sliding open. Diate’s throat tightened. He didn’t even speak the language here, and he had left all of his possessions on the Vorgellian ship.
He had no plan. How would he survive with no plan?
“I cannot acknowledge you once we land,” the pilot said. She had to shout above the noise. “I will deliver my wine and leave the doors open. You must get out yourself, and not be seen. There are guards, but they usually pay more attention to the shipments. Wait a few minutes, and then get out. Their attention should be on me at that point.”
Diate nodded. He was trying to make himself breathe easily. He had made a mistake coming here. He should have tried to talk Sehan into sending him away as a prisoner of the Vorgellians. Or sneaking him to Rulanda. At least on Rulanda, there were other Kingdom members, Talents who might have helped him out. On Golga, he would be alone, and an enemy of the state.
He didn’t even have any money.
The pilot eased the shuttle into large bay doors and it bumped to a stop. Diate clung to his belts for reassurance. He had experienced rougher landings, but had always known what would happen once he landed.
The interior of the bay was dark. It took his eyes a moment to adjust. He saw doors on the far walls, and tools hanging from pegs all around. Stairs led to observation decks.
The pilot pressed a few buttons, pulled off her headset, and then turned. “Get away from the window.” Her voice was sharp, as if she couldn’t believe that he had failed to do it. “And stay down.”
Diate unbelted himself. He crawled into the back between the boxes. They were stamped in a language he couldn’t read. Through small holes in the box sides, he could see wine bottles, their contents sloshing. The pilot eased the doors open, and voices, speaking in a guttural language he had never heard, echoed in what sounded like a large chamber. Footsteps rang on metal. The pilot stepped down, speaking the guttural language as fluidly as she had spoken Lillish.
If they were going to remove the boxes, he had to get out quickly.
A door clanged open behind him, then he felt the shuttle shake as boxes were removed through the rear doors. He was trembling. It was only a matter of time before they found him.
The pilot had left the front door open. He crawled to it, and peered out.
The shuttle bay lacked the sparkle of the bay on the cruise ship. Odors of grease and spent fuel tickled his nose. The metal walls were rippled and tarnished. Stains and streak marks marked the gray metal floor. Iron stairs on the far wall led to a row of windows near the ceiling. The windows were too far away to give him a view of their interior. Someone could be watching him from above.
That was a risk he had to take. The voices sounded far away, and he only had a few minutes. He stepped out, staying close to the shuttle, then rounded in front of it.
A group of people, including the pilot, huddled in a corner, arguing over a pile of boxes. The rest of the bay looked empty. Behind the shuttle stood the big bay doors, and to the front, a series of smaller doors that probably led outside. He had to choose, and quickly. If he ran to the bay doors, he would have to pass the knot of people. If he ran around front, he would be in better view of the windows.
For all he knew, no one stood behind those windows. And people were on his path to the bay doors. He took a deep breath, and pushed off the shuttle, running with large dancing leaps, landing as quietly as he could, so that no one would hear him on the metal floor.
Two guards came down the iron stairs near the double doors, their boots clanging on the metal. Diate’s heart jumped into his throat. He turned to run the other way, but more guards poured out of side doors. The sound of their marching feet echoed in the large room, and the group in the back corner turned to see what was going on.
Diate had nowhere to go.
But that wasn’t going to stop him.
He turned back to the front, and ran as fast as he could. He could get past two guards. He was quick and agile and young. They weren’t as young or as well trained. He could get around them and onto the street. Once on the street, he would be safe.
A blaze of heat seared across his right foot, and he jumped, breaking stride. The guard in front of him held a weapon in his right hand. He fired another shot that seared the floor next to Diate’s other foot.
Diate stopped. He couldn’t go around. They would kill him.
He was breathing heavily, even though he hadn’t run that far. His pulse pounded through his body. This was it, then. There was nothing he could do. Maybe he could talk his way out of this. Maybe he could get the pilot to take him back.
The two main guards walked over to him, still holding their weapons on him. He didn’t move. Their uniforms were black with silver trim, their faces pasty from lack of light. They were both young, but not as young as he was. Already their faces had deep lines etching their frowns in place. They smelled faintly of sweat and fear.
He didn’t like the scent of fear.
The shorter guard reached Diate first. With one gloved hand, he pushed Diate’s hair away from his face. Diate refused to flinch at the feel of warm leather against his skin.
“Talent,” the guard said with surprise. His Lillish was heavily accented.
“Stowing away?” the other asked.
The pilot walked over, surrounded by other guards. They kept grabbing her arms, and she kept shaking them off. She spoke sharply in the guttural language Diate had heard earlier.
The first guard answered in the same language.
She looked at Diate, eyes widening as if she were seeing him for the first time. She spoke again, and then said in Lillish, “You are a Talent.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She shook her head as she addressed the guard.
The guard shrugged. He pointed to the main door of the cabin, his words clipped.
The pilot’s voice rose as she spoke. She kept glancing at Diate as if she couldn’t believe he was there.
The guard took a step closer. He spoke so sharply that spittle flew from his mouth. The pilot turned away. Her face had gone white. She kept gesturing at the shuttle and shaking her head.
The guard took her arm. She wrenched free, and walked over to her shuttle. She peered inside, and whistled.
Diate hadn’t moved. Myla had taught him that the ability to remain still was as important as the ability to move. He barely breathed.
The pilot pointed to the back of the cabin. Her voice had become strident. She turned to Diate. In Lillish, she said. “Who do you think you are? This is my ship. You had no right to be on it. I will see to it that you are turned over to the Vorgellians. They will make a slave out of you!”
A tremble ran through him. If he hadn’t heard her plan his escape, he too would have been fooled by her act.
The guard gave an order in a language Diate had never heard before. Other guards grabbed the pilot by the arms. She tried to shake free, but they held her too tightly. They led her toward the stairs. She struggled the entire way.
She wouldn’t be able to help him. He was on his own.
The guard turned to Diate, and said in Lillish, “What does a Talent want on Golga?”
Diate met that gaze, and saw no sympathy in it. He couldn’t run, and he couldn’t go back. He had only one choice. “Asylum.”
“Asylum?” The word managed to shake through the guard’s calmness. Never in the history of the two countries had a member of the Kingdom sought asylum from Golga.
“I want to defect.” Diate made sure his words were loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. He wanted witnesses. He wanted as many witnesses as he could get.
“Let’s take him to Scio,” the second guard said.
“We can’t.” The first’s frown had grown deeper. “Cases of asylum have to go before the Golgoth.”
The cell stank of urine. Diate didn’t want to touch the floor or walls for fear that something would contaminate him. A mattress, tossed in the corner, was the source of the smell. He stood near the bars, staring at the window cut into the wall high above his reach. The window was one square foot, and sent in pale yellow light that bathed everything in soft grays.
The guards had brought him here in a protected car on the electric rail system. The system was old and gave off sparks. The seats were worn, and the floor scuffed. Diate had sat at the edge of his chair. Outside, the sky was overcast, and the buildings looked even darker than they had from the air. He had never been to such a dismal place.
The train had stopped behind the palace, and the guards had brought him into one of those buildings around the park. They had led him down a flight of stairs, and into a cell without even telling anyone he was there.
He could rot here, and no one would know.
But, before they slammed the heavy oak door, they had promised him a meeting with the Golgoth. They said to prepare, that the Golgoth would see him in the next few hours.
Diate paced. All of the hope, all of the chances, had come to this. A meeting with the Golgoth, with the ruler of this godforsaken country. The self-declared enemy of Diate’s place of birth. No Kingdom member had ever requested asylum here because every Kingdom member knew the Golgoth would never grant it.
Although they had surprised him already. The pilot, whom he had expected them to kill, had left the island. They had taken away her license—she could never return to Golga and they had fined her—but she still had her life and her career.
