Book 1 — Chapter 47

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Day: Hynwuo

Date: 35

Month: Nokaokarium 

Quarturn: 1618

Location: The city of Loeesuvu - Country of Saettee

 

Ash opened her eyes and glanced around the small office she and Miles had been led to. It was an office like any other in appearance — chairs, desk, side table, shelves, and cabinets. However, it wasn’t like ‘any other’ in function; and that was what was driving her current anxiety. 

 

As she re-closed her eyes, her mind went directly to the moment she took flight off the STV. It was a point where time seemed to forgo its own laws, as seconds became minutes and minutes became hours.  

 

Behind her eyelids, the images played out of seeing the ground, the sky, and the ground again. All in a slow motion that was so intense in its power, she was still experiencing phantom movements, as her vestibular system and her senses were still at odds with one another. 

 

But it wasn’t just the head over feet that was skewing her perceptions; it was the push from Miles. A push that felt just as strong as the force that threw them both. A push that seemed almost impossible, as she went from falling forward to falling laterally with a twist in the air and Miles’ hands guiding her into the much more forgiving vegetation. Grasses that were thick and lush, with a substrate that, due its composition, added to the relatively soft landing she experienced. 

 

Though describing it as ‘relative’ was apt; it was certainly much softer than the rock-based road she had just come from, but it wasn’t without its own pains. 

 

Pains that were brought on by a ground that met her and caused her to roll across the grasses; an action reminiscent of her younger days in which she would roll down grassy hills to make herself dizzy and laugh. Only this came with a force and speed that was so fierce, it knocked the helmet from her head and sent it away from her into the foliage to hide. 

 

As she had come to a stop on her back, she recalled the first breath that entered her was one of the most satisfying of her life. A deep breath that gave her a moment to collect her thoughts and quickly scan her body for any injuries that would have taken her breath back away in fear. She was certainly in pain, but as she released the breath, she came to realize she was in one piece and cognizant. 

 

It was then the sky, and its stars above, caught her attention. For as time had seemed to slow, she allowed herself to examine the heavenly bodies for what seemed like hours as they twinkled and shined down upon her. 

 

However, as clamor touched her ears, time released her from its diminution and brought her back to its normal passage. The racket of fights, engagements, yelling, and finally a friendly face appearing before her in the form of a civil security woman assuring her she was safe and would be taken care of.

 

And taken care of, she was. They were. For the past 64-plus hours, she and Miles had been hospitalized in the city of Loeesuvu — in the country of Saettee.  

 

Upon their crash, they were quickly met with Saettee civil security — who, she was informed, monitored the border regularly and was present to witness the whole incident. And because of Saettee’s staunch anti-Hylatee — and subsequently anti-HEAGEN — stance, HEAGEN entering the country was illegal. The HEAGEN had been met with orders to return to Minu. But instead of complying, they engaged the Saettee civil security to their own demise. It was only after the area had been secured, she and Miles were taken to the city hospital and admitted. 

 

She had been diagnosed with deep bruising and a couple of minor cuts. But because her helmet had come off during the crash, the physicians wished her to stay under observation to make certain there was no head trauma. 

 

Miles, however, had not fared so well with the crash. Sustaining bruises, cuts, contact rash, a dislocation, and a torn rotator cuff that required surgery. They performed the surgery right away and had placed him on an intravenous drip of a competitor’s counterpart of Hylatee’s HEAL. 

 

HEAL. Hylatee Expediency Anatomical Liquid. A “miracle” drug that would reduce the time for healing from months to days by somehow speeding up the body’s own healing mechanisms. And to give credit where credit was due, Hylatee had produced something that did as it was advertised. However, it was a product that wasn’t only scarce — seemingly reserved for the elite — it was a product that couldn’t be acquired in Saettee, as their anti-Hylatee stance was so pronounced, it included medicines. 

 

Yet, in nearly all things, there were companies that had replicated Hylatee’s HEAL well enough to be an alternative. Though not wholly; resulting in side-effects that would require Miles to stay longer than if he had been given the original HEAL. 

 

While they had been afforded all the care that was available, there was a caveat to their admission. They were under detainment for crossing the border without identification. Because of that, their hospital stay had been under strict observation, with no way to communicate with each other or with anyone back in Melchior.

 

The nurses had been kind to inform her of Miles’ condition and recovery as often as she asked. Granting him the same when he had inquired, just as numerously. But her major concerns lay north; in Melchior with Wayra. 

 

She was given assurances that a member of the civil security team would communicate with Wayra concerning their whereabouts and conditions. Though, to the moment, she hadn’t heard if that task had been completed. 

 

It had been that morning, when they had both been deemed recovered enough to be released to civil security, who collected and brought them both back to the station as the next phase of their detainment was upon them. 

 

She opened her eyes and looked down at the tank top and overalls; garments offered to her by one of the personnel upon the scheduled hospital release, as her clothing had been significantly ripped in the accident. It was clothing she was grateful to receive, as they were nice and loose on her, allowing the lingering bruises space to breathe. 

 

Her head turned as she looked at Miles, who was in the chair next to her, in similar clothing, though with a shoulder compression brace in place to mitigate any damage while the generic-HEAL finished its work.

 

She felt a light grin pull at the corner of her mouth as Miles’ eyes were closed, as he looked to be peacefully asleep. 

 

But as his eyes slowly opened, his own grin came to his face as he spoke in a soft tone. 

 

“I was deep into my noggytuck, and suddenly felt your eyes on me. I knew you were looking at me. Have you ever experienced that?” 

 

“I have,” she admitted in her own low voice. “Intuition, I suppose. But I have encountered that feeling. That knowing that draws your attention. I’m sorry I did so; interrupting your thoughts.” 

 

“Don’t be,” he responded in a sound voice. “I was thinking about the HEAGEN station house. That pilferage pile; the one in the evidence closet. When I saw it, my first thought was ‘it’s just a pile of useless junk.’ But I haven’t stopped thinking about it since. And after much consideration, I’ve concluded I was perfectly wrong. Because … from the cheap-seats, it could be deemed as junk. But more likely, it wasn’t useless junk to the person from whom it was taken. It might have been a gift from a long-lost family member. The first thing they bought with their own money from a new job. A memory of something happy. A lost treasure that they could have mourned over. I got mad at myself for being so cynical. Think the Universe was mad at me, too. Punished me with a good kick to the ass in the form of that crash.” 

 

She felt her smile increase as she was touched by his thoughts, bringing to light something she hadn’t even considered of what had been before them. 

 

“I don’t know, Miles,” she offered with an encouraging tone. “I don’t think the punishment fits the crime in this case. One errant thought during a stressful situation doesn’t seem to warrant a new surgery scar on your shoulder.” 

 

“I don’t mind the scar,” he admitted. “It’s just one of those things you’ll have. A stain of life.” 

 

Her smile widened to its apogee as marvel rose in her with Miles’ words. She shook her head as she asked. 

 

“How? How are you this positive? I mean, I see it. It’s not sociopathic. You still feel the spectrum. Yet, you so often emerge optimistic. It’s otherworldly inspiring. Also infuriating, as I could never be.” 

 

The smile she wore turned into a chuckle as Miles used his non-injured arm to scratch the back of his neck, as it was apparent her words had embarrassed him. His head moved quickly from side to side as he considered her question and answered. 

 

“This is going to be a letdown, but honestly, I don’t know. I’ve told you of my past, the times I wasn’t like this, and how true mentors saved me from myself. I … you’re right. I experience the full range of emotions allowed to us, and won’t always find a light in the darkness. But my mentors seemed to use my stubbornness to … I guess the best way to put it … train me to crave the light, so that I always keep looking for it. And when I find it, to immerse myself in it, to spread it, to be my best self.” 

 

He paused as his smile elevated. 

 

“As for you could never be: not true. You already are. Just hard for some to recognize themselves when perceiving from a different point of view. And even if you still don’t see it, more importantly: in my mind, you’re perfect just as you are.” 

 

“Aw, Miles,” she voiced in a gushing tone. “You’re so sweet and good. But as things are, I need sweet and good; and will accept it happily.” 

 

He studied her face for a moment, his smile fading to an expression of sincerity as he spoke in an assuring pitch. 

 

“All will be well, Ash. I promise you.” 

 

It was a promise that, due to his voice, she believed. But it was one that she didn’t have an opportunity to respond to; both of their attentions turned to the door of the office when it opened — and in walked in a civil security man. 

 

She watched as the man shut the door gently, turned and paused mid-motion, as if had forgotten something. Then, as he seemed to recall what he had, bounced his head with a bright smile in agreement with his internal monologue, and returned his attention to his current activities. 

 

A light smile pulled at the corner of her lips, as the man’s thoughts found soft mouthed responses; speaking to himself while he moved from one corner of the room to another and gathered whatever he needed. It was a mannerism that was striking her as smile-worthy cute. 

 

It was a ‘cuteness’ that, in her mind, translated over to his appearance. 

 

The man was tall, at least as tall as Wayra — and built similarly to Wayra, with a body that was obviously strong. HIs complexion — a medium-light hue with tawny undertones — matched well with his brown hair that was cut in a curtains-style with the part in the middle. His face featured a prominent nose that fit well to his pleasant smile and his eyes. Brown-hazel eyes that seemed to squint slightly, but were heavy against his bright and light expressions. 

 

Even in the commanding uniform of grey coveralls, dark grey coat and boots, black scarf, black beanie, and weapons belt; the way he carried himself still lent to a more welcoming aura that was helping ease her tension. 

 

As the man seemed to collect all the items he needed, he pulled the chair from behind the desk to the front near, sat to it with a vocal breath, lifted his ankle to his knee to apparently get comfortable as he leaned forward and spoke in a peppy voice. 

 

“Ash Ero and Miles Doru … I have it on good authority that I’m pronouncing those correctly, yes?”

 

“You are. Thank you,” Miles responded in a slightly weak tone that suggested he was becoming tired. “You’re the security officer that dispatched that HEAGEN. I mean … I’m guessing you’re civil security; your uniform isn’t typical. And further, forgive me for being so bold in my presumption, but you’re Hume, right? How did you do that? It was amazing.” 

 

The man smiled and nodded, as he didn’t seem to take offense to Miles’ assumption of his heritage and seemed to focus on the praise instead as he responded. 

 

“The uniform, yes. I’m part of our country’s specialist security that is more offensive than defensive. The border you crossed is often used by people who are … running. We help protect those people and actively encourage HEAGEN to stay on their side of the border. I am, indeed, Hume. I’m going to surmise your question is based on HEAGEN’s engineering, as opposed to my non-engineered self. Two things. One is to remember that not all HEAGEN are super-soldiers; some don’t take to the engineering as well as their counterparts. Part of the distinction between H-3s and H-1s. Which brings me to reason two. In all H-3s, and most of H-2s, engineering is often used as a substitute for technique. You might not be able to compare to them strength, speed, or endurance; but many are poorly trained. Sloppy and arrogant. You can outsmart, out-finesse, out train them and win. I grant you, I don’t look forward to the day I encounter an H-1. That may be another story.” 

 

She glanced at Miles, who smiled lightly and nodded in thanks to the man’s explanation. Though her attention returned to the man quickly as she suddenly noted the phrasing of his words as she asked. 

 

“You said you had it on good authority that you were pronouncing our names correctly. Whose authority was that?” 

 

The man smiled cheerfully and chuckled as he reached for a clipboard from the desk and brought it to his leg and responded. 

 

“The authority of my best friend, Porter B’Styhae.” 

 

She felt herself gasp with sudden realization of who the man before her was as he continued.

 

“Let me take the very great pleasure of introducing myself. I’m O’cerne Arpatio. It’s a great pleasure to finally meet you both, as Porter has spoken highly of you. Though I bet we can all agree we wished it were under different circumstances.” 

 

“This is astonishing,” she marveled aloud. “How is it that the Universe made this synchronicity? For you, of all people, to be monitoring the border as we crossed. This keeps happening. I don’t know if it’s a recent phenomenon since I met Wayra, or I just never noticed before …” 

 

She paused as she shook her head and chuckled. 

 

“I’m sorry. I’m going off on a tangent.” 

 

“Not at all,” O’cerne assured her with his own chuckle. “I’m a man of Sanctuary and sometimes I’m still rolled over when I see the Universe at work. But speaking of Wayra, let me satisfy any concerns you may have. I spoke to him myself just a little while ago. All is well. He has known of your whereabouts and both your conditions since Hynyia morning. He asked me to tell you the objective was a success … and he sends his love.” 

 

The relief washed over her as knowing Wayra was safe, and wasn’t worrying about her, gave her immense comfort that let her release a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding. But her attention quickly returned to O’cerne as he continued. 

 

“Now, let’s see how quickly we can get you both back home.” 

 

She watched as O’cerne began to sort through his papers as he explained the situation they were in. 

 

“The bulk of the issue is, you crossed the border without identification, which is a criminal offense.” 

 

“Wait,” Miles interrupted with a questioning voice. “Why did you throw our identifications away?” 

 

“Because of the border scans,” she expounded. “They are automatically logged in both exiting and entering. If they know they were chasing people across borders at 31:00 hours, all they have to do is to see who crossed the borders where and at the specified time. They then know who they’re looking for. I dropped them in the lightning farm as I knew I could get them back easily through my Papa or one of his workmates.”

 

“Deo damnit, you’re brilliant,” Miles exclaimed.

 

“It was a stroke of brilliance in the details,” O’cerne added with a bright smile. “But as brilliant as it is, it leads us to …” 

 

O’cerne paused as he looked over a page within the papers before him. He let out a vocal breath as he placed his hands on the paper, looked at them directly, and spoke in an earnest tone. 

 

“I want to emphasize something before we continue. I know the following may make me look like an asshole, but I wish for you to understand that I take my job very seriously. Even if I know you were crossing to get away from HEAGEN, I cannot skirt the law. Make exceptions. It keeps me in a position that allows me to more effectively help people. People like you. In Idemere.”

 

“And we would never ask you to do so,” she offered with sincerity, though her fear was rising with his words as she wasn’t clear what was being implied; the apologetic nature of his words wasn’t encouraging. 

 

“Thank you for understanding,” he remarked with a nod. “As I mention, with few exceptions, such as Watzeen and Nichal, crossing borders without identification is a criminal offence. Saettee recognizes those who claim refugee status, but I don’t think you want to go that route.” 

 

“Crap,” Miles moaned, as he seemed to understand what was unfolding well before her. “If we plead guilty, how long will we have to stay?” 

 

O’cerne chuckled as he asked. 

 

“I trust you’ve been down this road before?” 

 

“Unfortunately, yes,” Miles responded with another groan. “Did it by accident when myself and a couple friends were river-boarding. Had our identification up at the grounds. The river signs were very specific to stay on one route and not veer off. We thought we’d be smartasses and take the other route and got picked up for border crossing without an ID. Laws vary about this, I understand.”

 

“They do,” O’cerne confirmed. “Here, you have three options. One. If you give your name and contact information, we log it and you sign a paper that says you will verify it with official identification within a timeframe and you’ll be released today. I will be honest, I don’t believe this is what you want to do. Because of the nature of our few cooperation laws, if Minu requests, we do have to turn over the names. And granted, yes, you could always give fake names, but then if you cannot produce proof of your identity within the timeframe, you’re in contempt and the penalties here are steep. Your escape route, by which I encourage you to use as often as possible, will be cut off from you, lest you want a solar year here incarcerated.”

 

She felt her stomach knot as a vocal breath of angst moved from her mouth by reflex. It was a sound that O’cerne recognized, as he lifted his hand, gestured for calm, and spoke in an easy tone. 

 

“Don’t panic, I’m not done. Option two. If you choose not to share your names, you will appear before an on-premises judge who will fine and incarcerate you up to a week, to which you will have three weeks to either obtain an identification for Saettee, or return to the country of your origin.”

 

“A week?” she asked, with a quiet squeak in her voice. 

 

“If you choose this option, which I’m going to be forthright and recommend, I will be a witness to you both, which I know will hold some sway. You may have as little as a night in. It will be on-premises at his station’s watch-house. Considering you’ve been technically in custody since we found you, I can’t imagine it won’t go towards time served,” O’cerne responded.

 

Ash felt her eyes close, as the prospect was not one she was thrilled about, either.

 

“What’s option three?” Miles asked in a resigned voice.

 

O’cerne let out a breath, as if to indicate the last option wasn't a viable one.

 

“You could fight the charges or apply for refugee status. But that is going to be difficult. It is highly time consuming. You will be moved off-premises, to which I cannot guarantee you will be released or not; depends on the judge. You will be obligated to attend hearings. And …”

 

O’cerne paused and turned his attention towards her and offered a sympathetic expression. 

 

“I will be upfront and say I will not falsify for you. As I said, this is the best way I can help people, and I have to keep myself straight or else I will lose my position. I will report as I saw and encountered; and it will be detrimental to any attempt to argue your innocence.”

 

She offered a considerate expression of her own as she spoke.

 

“And again, I would not ask you to jeopardize yourself when you have provided us with alternatives. I’m just …”

 

She felt her mouth go dry with the apprehension that prevented her from continuing her words. As she looked at O’cerne, he seemed to notice the choke in her voice and the change of her look; his head tilted to the side in a questioning manner, sending his straight, fine hair waving back and forth. 

 

Her eyes came off his hair, and her focus returned to his eyes as he gently asked. 

 

“Please know you can be upfront with me. What’s troubling you about what I have offered?”

 

Her gaze moved to the floor and studied, as she wasn’t clear how to share her thoughts without perhaps giving offense. But as her mind looked for the words to speak, her attention was taken by Miles’ hand coming into her peripheral view as he offered it in support. An offer she accepted as she took his hand firmly and gained the courage to return her eyes to O’cerne as she spoke candidly of her fears.

 

“I … I mean no offense when I say this. But … the incarceration. In Minu … there are rumors of what happens to the people in there by the guards. The horrible things, even to children. And how people will actively betray each other to avoid being the next victim of the HEAGENs’ crimes. I know HEAGEN is not here, but I …”

 

She watched as O’cerne rubbed his lips together in empathetic concern and nodded knowingly. He leaned slightly forward and spoke in a softer tone — as if to impart both calm and clarity.

 

“As you said yourself, Ash, we are not HEAGEN here. However, facts of what takes place in incarceration tanks in Minu, especially Melchior, can color your expectations wherever you go. I do not fault you on that. I can guarantee you, this is not what you find here. Saettee values justice. And regardless of your innocence or guilt, there is no justice to be found in crimes of cruelty by those who have power. We are not perfect, we have our slips. But the aim is to treat you with justness in all stages of your innocence, your guilt, and your detention. You will find civility here.” 

 

• • •

 

Ash jumped slightly to the knock on the door as the consistent quiet had rendered each noise, no matter how light, as jarring. She turned her head toward the indoor entrance door as the small slit within the door opened with a crack and a woman’s voice came through. 

 

“Evening sweetness. Have supper for you. Brought you some extras so you have things to snack on tonight. Step back from the door, please.” 

 

“I’m on the bed. You can enter.” 

 

She felt a sigh come to her, as the door opened and the elder civil security woman came in with a cart, offering a big smile as she spoke. 

 

“I’m sorry, sweetness. I know O’cerne vouched for you, and I don’t want you to think I see you as a threat, but it’s old habits to order one back from the door.” 

 

“I understand,” she ensured the kind woman. “You’re doing your job. I appreciated your assurance.” 

 

As the woman placed a tray to the wall desk, she spoke with a little excitement in her voice. 

 

“I think you’ll be happy with tonight’s supper, as it was brought in from a local restaurant. And, even more appetizing are the cakes that are with them. Cakes I’m proud to say I made myself. I hope you’ll enjoy them.” 

 

“I’m sure I will,” she responded, though her voice was finding it difficult to convey any enthusiasm for the sincerely kind gesture. 

 

The woman seemed to notice it as she turned and looked at her directly and softened her expression as she offered. 

 

“You’re okay. While this is of short duration, I know you miss your family and friends. But as I suggest to all those who are here, use the time to rest, recover, and eat. Build up your strength for your return home to them.” 

 

The woman paused as she let out a chuckle and continued. 

 

“I’ve been here myself once upon a time, when I was younger than yourself. Know that there are many hugs to be given and had upon your release. So eat and store up energy for all the love.” 

 

She felt a sincere smile come to her as it was advice that she could adhere to. 

 

“Thank you,” she replied with an enthusiastic nod.  

 

As the woman positioned herself to back away, another aspect of her training in the environment, she offered another heartfelt smile as she concluded. 

 

“Now you eat and rest. If you need anything, remember the intercom is on the desk. Slide your tray out the bottom slot. Doors to the yard have been locked and won’t open again until after the morning meal. I won’t be here for that, but I will leave a note for the morning shift to be extra sweet to you. Goodnight.” 

 

“Goodnight and thank you,” she replied with a voice she hoped conveyed the genuine gratefulness she was feeling for such care. 

 

As the door shut and the lock echoed into place, she felt her eyes close with the reality of the situation; one that brought her knees to her chest and pulled her into a ball as her mind wandered. 

 

The day had been a whirlwind. No sooner had O’cerne collected their information and filled out the paperwork were they escorted to an on-site judge. 

 

The judge was not as welcoming as O’cerne, which had raised her apprehension. But as O’cerne explained all that had happened, the judge took a moment, called a pause in matters to be on the record, and asked in a pitting voice if they were doing work for Idemere. She at the time, was unclear on how to respond. But Miles, spoke firmly and clearly that ‘they were doing what was right by poor and sick people, and yes, it happened to align with Idemere.’ The judge nodded with a look of approval and returned to the formalities; explaining since they would not give their names, they would be fined and sentenced to a short time. The judge thankfully waived their fine, but did sentence them to four days, with two days served. Meaning they wouldn’t get out until Hynyengo morning. The judge gave them no lecture, nor told them not to return without identification. They only commended O’cerne for advising so well, as it would keep them from being on a repeat offender list; thus preventing them from greater troubles in the future. It was a neat moment for her as the judge took more time praising O’cerne than coming to a punishment for them.

 

But such amusements were fleeting as after the hearing, they were immediately directed to the watch-house that was on-premises. An on-site facility that turned out to be a great deal larger than she understood when she was brought in.

 

The cells, that were located at the back of the facility, were thankfully very compassionate in their function. Small in size, they still had room for an adult single bed, wall attached desk, chair, television, and even a very small private bath. 

 

The cell additionally had a secondary door that, for several hours in the day, was unlocked. Giving her a chance to go outside and walk the courtyard that was attached to all the cells. A yard she had taken advantage of, as the air had been clean and refreshing to her physical and mental senses.

 

However, it wasn’t something that Miles had taken advantage of as she had hoped to see him emerge from his cell, wherever that was, but he never appeared. It did initially bring her worry — until she talked herself down to the reality that Miles was most likely sleeping, still recovering from his injury. 

 

As she opened her eyes and let her legs fall to sit tailor style, she brought in another deep breath that echoed through the room as she stared at the tray before her. 

 

Though three meals had been offered, she still had not eaten, as her appetite had been suppressed by the situation.

 

But as she continued to stare at the tray, with its promised goodness underneath, her mind again wandered to Miles. His positivity. How he was most likely welcoming the moment as the civil security woman had suggested: a time of peace, quiet, rest, and food. It was something she wondered if she could embrace. If she could talk herself into understanding she could be in a much more perilous incarceration. In less merciful surrounds. And to allow herself to utilize the time to prepare for the future. 

 

However, a lingering anxiety — one that had presented itself as soon as she had led the HEAGEN away from Wayra and Porter — kept pushing past her primary thoughts to the forefront. At first, she believed it was just the notion of missing Wayra. Missing Naira. Missing Raer, Akiva, her parents. Everyone she loved.

 

Yet, as the days had continued, and the thought continued its prominence, she realized it wasn’t simply a case of her missing them. She was cognizant she would see them in only a short couple of days. However, it was what could happen during her absence that was causing her grief.

 

She wasn’t there to protect them. She wasn’t there to see them safe. And that helplessness was wearing on her more than she could have imagined. That inability to, even for a short time, keep her loved ones from harm, was — as Miles had so elegantly put — becoming a stain of life on her mind and soul.