Happy New Year all! First write of the year, a special one for @wildfaewhump‘s birthday. Also helped me get a jump start on my resolution of 200 words a day for the year. Hope you enjoy!
CW: abuse of power, blood, person in charge is a dick, namecalling
---
Stars flashed across Alekoran’s vision as knuckles connected with his cheek and sent him crashing to the floor. He caught himself just before he fell face first against the mat, the taste of blood already starting to fill his mouth. He groaned from his shaky arms failing to push him to his feet, already dizzy and out of breath.
“Get up, Private,” the voice behind the punch snapped at him. Alekoran glanced over at the boots next to him, half expecting one of them to nudge him in the side. He spat out bloody spit on the mat and lifted himself to his feet. His eyes locked with Captain Imadaal’s, fists balled and ready for another round. They were wrapped, but barely scuffed. The only evidence of fighting was Alekoran’s blood smeared on his face and the Captain’s knuckles.
“You take that long to get back in action on the battlefield, you’ll be dead before you even know it.” The Captain shook loose his wrists before bringing up his fists to a fighting stance. “Now, advance.”
Alekoran growled and lunged forward, a punch aimed right for the Captain’s head. Swing, step, step, block, sidestep, a final swing and miss before the Captain caught his arm and twisted him around. Alekoran cried out from the quick sharp pain before the Captain’s foot kicked out his and he collapsed to the ground again. This time the Captain kept him pinned to the mat, arm still twisted and pressed against his back. Alekoran yelped from the pain, slapping his hand against the mat. To no avail.
“Bam.” He felt the Captain’s fingers push against the back of his head. A kill in less than a minute. Alekoran squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth tightly against the painful throbbing. Only after the point was made did he release Alekoran and step away.
Alekoran groaned in relief, taking a moment he knew was frowned upon to catch his breath. His eyes wandered for a moment, seeing the rest of his squad sitting on the sidelines and watching the sparring. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Only a few weeks he had been with them, and he must’ve looked like a poor excuse for a Rebel in their eyes.
“C’mon, we’ll go again,” the Captain snapped his fingers impatiently. Alekoran coughed, splattering more blood onto the mat beneath him as he tried to push himself up again. His twisted arm ached suddenly and he barely managed to lift himself to his knees.
“Already giving up? You expect to go out on the battlefield in a few weeks and you’re quitting when it gets tough?”
“Captain,” across the room, Alekoran’s sergeant, Tzimer, spoke up, “He’s been at it for a couple hours now.”
“And not a single hit on me in all that time. It’s pathetic. Diçians aren’t gonna give pause for a pouch baby like him. Him and your entire squad have to be ready!”
Alekoran’s ears bent back at the name. A silence hung in the room for a moment, finally Imadaal groaned and stepped off the map. “Fine, get him to the infirmary for a patch up. Soladi, you’re up next.”
Alekoran sighed and slumped back down. It wasn’t a good feeling, having to stop. As harsh as it was, the Captain was right. He had to be ready for the fight, no matter how much it hurt. He wouldn’t get there if he stayed on the ground bleeding and drooling.
“Get his right side, there.” He hadn’t noticed two of his squad came by his side. He groaned as they pulled him up to his feet. Tzimer came into his view on the left, and Alekoran sighed. “Thanks, Sarge.”
“We’ll talk later. Alumaris, you got it from here?”
The other squad member helping Alekoran nodded and walked with him towards the door. Each step was a feat of its own as they made it through and down the hallway. Finally out of earshot of the Captain, Alekoran’s teammate turned to him. “You know, Captain knocked me out with a bloody nose during my first match with him. He’s usually rough with the newbies, anyway.”
“Yeah?” Alekoran wiped a line of blood running down his lip.
“Yeah, pretty cool to go that long in a fight.”
Alekoran chuckled, wincing from the pain flaring in his face and ribs. “I don’t give up easy. And he’s a dick, don’t like giving him the satisfaction.”
“Yeah, heh. Well, he fights dirty anyway. I could give you some pointers later on if you want.”
Alekoran looked back at him and nodded with a smile. “Yeah, that’d be cool. It’s Macxè, right?”
“Uh huh,” Macxè nodded. “Good to have you on the team.”
Tzimer rarely left the confines of his cell while being held prisoner. Always alone with his thoughts, and the guilt of failing the squad he was supposed to protect…
Happy Titan Day! A piece written just for today, the events that led to Alek being captured as a POW when he was 173. I’ve had this scene in my head for so long, and it’s nice to finally have it written! Hope you enjoy!
Word Count: 3398
CW: depictions of war, betrayal, abuse of power, guns, prisoners of war, captured
Titan Guard tag list: @nightly-whump, @whumped-cream, @ghostcomit, @whipper-whumper, @yet-another-heathen, @why-not-whump-it (let me know if you’d like to be tagged!)
---
Smoke rose from piles of rubble that roared in fires from weeks ago, still smoldering across the ruined city. They were no danger now at the distance Alekoran had himself positioned. But he could watch the smoke rise through his binoculars as he scouted a path for his platoon to travel safely. He set them down on the ground next to him and folded his arms under his chin, his fingers fiddling with the pendant on his necklace.
Alekoran had never seen a destroyed city before they came here. He had heard stories about the ruins of the border, of course, had an idea of what it could look like. But nothing really prepared him for what he would see. It was so quiet here, a silence that made his hair stand on end when he thought of the hundreds, thousands of people who once lived here that just didn’t anymore. Their homes swallowed up by Diçian bombs and marches until there was nothing left.
Sarnekan is over six thousand miles away. He thought to himself. It’s not gonna get destroyed any time soon.
He clenched his pendant tightly in his fist.
I should call Mom and Dad once we reach Kanalaya.
“Taking a break, Thnam?” A voice behind him made him jump before he realized it was Lieutenant Jiqu. He pushed himself off his stomach and quickly stood to his feet. He saluted, making Jiqu chuckle softly. “At ease.”
“Sorry, sir,” Alekoran lowered his arm but couldn’t fully relax, “Just… taking in the view, I guess?”
Jiqu smiled at him, which did help Alekoran to relax more. As second-in-command of their platoon, the Lieutenant was far easier to talk to compared to Captain Imadaal, and though he still expected the best from Alekoran and the other troops, he also looked out for them.
“It is something, isn’t it?” Jiqu said as he looked out across the ruined landscape. Alekoran’s eyes followed his. “How’s our timetable looking for getting across?”
Alekoran looked down at the tablet he had been charting a path in. “I’ve laid out a path following the railway sub routes in order to avoid the main rail and primary roads through the city. It should take about three days to clear the city, then another four days to reach Kanalaya.”
“May I?” Jiqu reached out his hand to see the tablet. Alekoran handed it to him, feeling confident in his planning for their safety. The Lieutenant had mentioned in the past just how impressed he was with Alekoran’s ability to map and guide their group through such treacherous terrain. He seemed to have a knack for it. As his eyes scanned over the layout, Jiqu still spoke to him.
“And how have you been doing, Thnam? I know this is your first official deployment, and it’s not exactly ideal to be this close to the Diçian side of the border.”
It’s really not. Alekoran thought to himself. He wouldn’t have signed up for the Pax Rebel army if he didn’t feel ready to take on the risks, but nervousness still nagged at him, especially when he considered where they were. But he wanted to be strong for the cause. He wanted to show Imadaal, Jiqu, and everyone new and old in his platoon that he was ready for the challenge. He clenched his fists tightly together and smiled.
“I’m doing alright, sir. It’s exciting finally being a part of the action!” His eagerness finally began to show, and it made Jiqu smile.
“Heh, that’s good to hear, Private.” His praise warmed Alekoran’s chest. “Not everyone can hold on to that same vigor out here considering the risks. I’ve been out here so many times, sometimes it’s tricky to fight the urge to go back where you know it’s safe.”
“How do you fight it, sir?”
Jiqu inhaled deeply as he looked back up at Alekoran. There was a long, sad look in his eyes. “Some days you’ll feel like you can’t. Those days, you have to think about what’s at stake, what it means to be here in order to protect what’s important to you. Well, you might be too young to understand.”
“I think I do a little bit, sir,” Alekoran nodded, “My dad and his family had to run from the Council to Paxen territory when he was 72 so they could have a better life, and I wanna make sure that he and my Mom can have a good life.”
The smile on Jiqu’s face warmed more. It made Alekoran wonder what in his life he had to protect, to think about while so far away from home.
“I’d say that’s pretty honorable of you, Private. Not many young men have those thoughts in mind when they sign up.” Jiqu glance back over the tablet and gestured Alekoran to look over it with him. “This looks good, but I suggest we take this route through the downtown. See? It should take about 15 hours off our travel time.”
Alekoran’s eyes followed where his finger traced along the map. It almost completely bypassed one of the tunnel systems, instead bringing them up to the surface again. Alekoran’s brow furrowed with concern. “Uh, sir, that’ll take us through one of the main roads… We’ll be out in the open for quite a while.”
Jiqu nodded, but he didn’t seem entirely bothered by the idea. He handed the tablet back to Alekoran, who ran his fingers along the edges of it nervously. Seeing his anxiousness, Jiqu placed a hand on his shoulder.
“We’ll be alright, Private. The Captain and I know that the last Diçian brigade came through dœlae ago. They’re long gone from this place. You remember the briefing we were all given before leaving?”
“Yes, sir.” He remembered. He still didn’t fully understand the information he was given. Perhaps his understanding of it didn’t matter that much.
“Well, we need to get to Kanalaya as soon as possible so they can receive the full briefing too. It’s just more efficient this way, given how important this intel is. Understand?”
“Yes, sir, I understand,” Alekoran nodded. He redrew that section of the route on his tablet and saved the changes. The idea of being out in the open within the city’s confines, even with no Diçians to run into, still didn’t sit right in his gut. But the Lieutenant knew what it was like being out here before. He had to trust him, and he did.
They would be alright.
“That’s good, Private,” the Lieutenant said as he gave the map another look, “Go ahead and report your findings to Captain Imadaal, then meet up with your Sergeant and squad. No doubt we’ll be underway shortly.”
“Yes, sir!” Alekoran saluted quickly and left Jiqu to give the Captain his report. He noticed him looking back out across the landscape, that same longingness hanging over him like before. He must be nervous too, Alekoran thought. Three days, and they would be out of here. He wouldn’t have to bear the eerie silence much longer.
---
Alekoran’s legs grew tired from the long hours of walking that brought them halfway across the ruined city. Their day and a half of trekking finally brought them along the corrected path Jiqu laid out before their journey. The rubble-ladened ground left the wheelers in their group walking slowly on foot. The rest stayed closed, unwilling to spread out too far in this open space. It wasn’t anything Alekoran couldn’t handle, but it did make the hours drag on endlessly.
He and Macxè walked together, side by side. Since their visit to Dairukus, Alekoran found himself drawn to spending time with him even more than they had before. He wasn’t sure how to describe it, but he just felt better, happier around him. He wondered if he could count their excursion together that day as a date, and it made him smile. They chatted almost the entire time, up until this stretch of the path when the Captain ordered all of them to remain silent. Alekoran looked forward to when they fell back into his original path and they could chat again and break the silence here. It was worse out here in the city.
There aren’t even birds here…
The platoon continued on through a gullied slope in the central walkway through downtown. With the exceptions of the few remaining buildings that towered above them, all markers of what made a thriving city were scattered across the streets. Alekoran watched Captain Imadaal and Lieutenant Jiqu stay ahead, Jiqu climbing towards the top of a heap of rocks. He stops and raises a fist in the air, the signal for everyone to stop in place. Alekoran watched his movements carefully. He can’t see what it is that would give cause for them to stop here.
Several moments in silence pass, and Jiqu still hadn’t given the all-clear for them to keep moving. Alekoran looked to Macxè with worry, wondering if they should be doing something. The long wait started to aggravate the Captain as well.
“Lieutenant, what is this? Explain yourself,” Imadaal said to him. Jiqu didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at the Captain while being addressed. He was acting strange, unlike anything Alekoran or any of them had seen him before. Alekoran’s eyes followed his hand as it reached for a flare gun strapped to his belt and raised it in the air. The bang as it fired was nearly deafening through the silence, and the light that rose into the sky rained horror down upon them.
“What the fuck!” The words leave his mouth before he can think to stay silent. The same panic ran through the rest of the platoon, blasters raised in confusion from seeing the Lieutenant set off a flare here of all places. The flare slowed to its peak several hundred feet in the air, before gradually gliding down. Instinctively, Alekoran grabbed Macxè’s arm and drew close to him. Whatever was going on, he wanted to make sure they were near each other. Both of them watched Captain Imadaal grab Lieutenant Jiqu by the collar of his jacket and scream at him in anger.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Captain Imadaal growled viciously at him. Jiqu remained silent, a hard look on his face but he didn’t resist. All of the platoon watched the Captain throw Jiqu down the rocks. He rolled down to level ground, his uniform dirtied and torn in a few places. All eyes were on him, but he refused to meet any of them. Alekoran’s heart was racing.
What did he do…?
“Cuff that traitor!” Captain Imadaal yelled. “Battle positions! Prepare for incoming forces!”
That Captain’s orders prompted the troops to gather themselves and fall in line with their defense. Alekoran and Macxè follow suit, watching as their Sergeant Tzimer lifted Jiqu up and cuffed his wrists behind him. Alekoran himself was still in shock, nervous since none of them knew exactly what he was doing and why. Maybe they shouldn’t be worried about that now, and be more concerned with protecting themselves out here. He drew his blaster and kept his eyes trained on his surroundings. His brain was still buzzing, trying to find anything out of the ordinary that threatened them. He glanced to the sky for just a moment to see something small flashing against the light.
It was too late to warn anyone before the projectile landed in the center of their group.
Alekoran expected a bomb from the small pyramid-shaped object that hits the ground. Only a few others noticed it in time to watch its flaps open and a loud, high-pitched noise filled the air. The sound grated against Alekoran’s eardrums, and he dropped his blaster and pressed his palms against his ears. It didn’t help, didn’t help anyone in the platoon as they collapsed to the ground screaming from the noise.
Alekoran isn’t sure just how long it lasted. It was almost like a scream, one he couldn’t ignore or escape. He squeezed his eyes shut, pleading for the pain to end. He couldn’t even hear his own screams above it.
The sound finally stopped. It took Alekoran a few moments before he fully realized it past the ringing it left in his ears. He was still shaking, but opened his eyes. The barrel end of a blaster filled his view. He froze in place, unable to tear his eyes away from it.
“I said get up, Rebel!” The Diçian holding the blaster shouted at him. They pressed the blaster firmly to his forehead. Alekoran’s hands went up as he scrambled to his feet, fear coursing through him as they rushed him towards the others. He finally saw just how bad their situation was. Diçian troops surrounded them everywhere on the ground and in the air, outnumbered at least four to one. The sound emitted by that pyramid device forced all in the platoon to drop their weapons and gear, leaving them defenseless as the Diçians came out from hiding and trapped them. There was no choice but to surrender to them.
“Keep moving,” the Diçian leading Alekoran forward shoved the end of their blaster into his back. He whimpered quietly, nearly tripping over his own feet as he joined the other members of his platoon. His hands behind his head, he stood by Sergeant Tzimer and tried to see where the other members of his own squad were. He started to panic when he didn’t see Macxè right away.
“Private,” Tzimer spoke to him in a hushed voice, “Are you alright?”
“O—Okay,” Alekoran replied, his voice trembling, “What’s—What’s happening? Where’s Macxè?”
“He’s next to me, he’s not hurt… I don’t know what’s happening, Alekoran. But we can’t fight like this. Just cooperate for now, alright?”
Alekoran nodded. He leaned forward just enough see Macxè standing at Tzimer’s other side. Macxè trembled just as badly as Alekoran did. Past him, he could see Captain Imadaal standing apart from the rest of them, guarded by three Diçian soldiers. Jiqu was on the ground on his stomach, his hands still cuffed behind him. The Captain’s eyes were trained on him in an enraged glare.
“Well, that went far smoother than I anticipated,” a voice near Imadaal spoke out, “Someone free that Rebel before he dirties himself any further.”
Two soldiers came and lifted Jiqu to his feet. The cuffs fell away and he brushed the dirt off the front of his uniform. That hard look in his expression from before hadn’t left, and his eyes looked to the ground as the leader of the attacking party approached him.
“You’ve done very well, Lieutenant Jiqu,” she said to him with a smile, “No exchange of fire or injuries. If only it were this easy to capture all Pax Rebels.”
He betrayed us… Alekoran felt a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach at the thought. Jiqu betrayed us… He sold us out… He used us… He used me…
“I certainly hope the information they carry warrants all of this trouble,” she crossed her arms in front, “And worth your entry across our border.”
“It is,” Jiqu voice lowered to a near grumble, “Each of us was given one piece of a dataset for a Rebel weapons development facility and its security clearance codes. You’ll need all of it in order to gain access.”
The Diçian leader retrieved a datapad from her pocket and handed it to him. “Your piece, here. You’re free to go once I have it.”
Alekoran felt a burning anger in his chest as he watched Jiqu take the datapad and enter his information. He betrayed them. He gave them up to the Diçians and he used Alekoran to get away with it. Alekoran’s vision blurred. It felt like he would pass out from the rage and shock buzzing in him.
“On behalf of the Dicio Council, I thank you for your service and generosity,” the Diçian leader said as Jiqu returned the datapad to her, “I have arranged for a guide to accompany you on your journey into Diçian territory. He’ll have a map and vehicles ready as you cross over.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant.”
“You fucking traitor,” Captain Imadaal growled at him. Jiqu took a deep breath in, but didn’t look at him or anyone else. The Diçian leader directed him towards one of her troops, perhaps his guide to the border. Alekoran couldn’t understand why he wanted to go there. What was so important there that he was ready to give up his team, his friends? Alekoran and the rest of the platoon watched with hate in their eyes as Jiqu went with the guide and walked over the rubble, disappearing within minutes through the ruined buildings.
“Alright, let’s get them moving!” The Diçian leader shouted to her troops. Alekoran and the rest of his platoon were ushered forward down the road, Captain Imadaal led towards the rest of them. Alekoran stayed close to Tzimer and Macxè, afraid of what could happen if they were separated. He caught a glance of Captain Imadaal joining him, and flinched when their eyes met with his anger.
“You!” Imadaal rushed up to Alekoran and grabbed the front of his jacket. He gasped in fear, his feet leaving the ground as the Captain lifted him off the ground. “You’re the scout that gave me that map! You led us out to this sector! This is all your fault! Were you working with that traitor, huh? Were you?!”
Alekoran’s heart was racing. “N-No, no, sir, I—”
Imadaal slapped him across the cheek and let him fall to the ground. He landed on the ground with a thud, the instinct to run and cower growing as Imadaal towered above him.
“Don’t fucking move, Rebel!” The Diçian soldiers turned their blasters to Imadaal, but he didn’t seem fazed by them.
“You little kharra,” his voice trembled in fury, “You might have just sent us all to our deaths!”
“Captain! Enough!” A figure came between Imadaal and Alekoran. He realized it was Tzimer, using himself to blockade any further harm from coming to Alekoran. Macxè came to his side as he trembled on the ground, one hand held up to his stinging cheek.
“That little brat helped that traitor Jiqu, Sergeant!” Imadaal yelled at him, “I should have him court-martialed and shot for this!”
“No! Lieutenant Jiqu used him, like he used you and me and all of us!” Tzimer snarled back at him. “You will not blame one of my men for something that your Lieutenant did!”
The Captain glared at Tzimer, but said nothing else for several moments. His eyes eventually turned to the blasters held close to his head, and relaxed his posturing to allow them to lead on. Tzimer turned and helped Macxè pull Alekoran to his feet as the rest of the platoon slowly started walking again.
“Are you okay?” Macxè asked him in a low voice. Alekoran nodded but his voice was frozen on his tongue. His cheek still stung from the Captain slapping him, feeling overwhelmed and shaking in place. It felt like a bad dream, one he wished he could wake up from in moments. But the pain lingered too long and he leaned gently into Macxè’s side.
“Alekoran, listen to me… this is not your fault, do you understand?” Tzimer said as he brushed dirt off Alekoran’s back, “It’s not. We’ll figure out what to do once they stop us, okay?”
“Yes, sir,” Macxè answered for both of them. He intertwined his fingers into Alekoran’s hand and held him up as they walked on. Each step was an exercise in willpower, but Alekoran kept his eyes trained to the ground. He squeezed Macxè’s hand tightly, the one sensation that didn’t hurt him here. Putting his trust in him, he let Macxè lead them forward, following their captors commands to wherever the would be held as prisoners. Imadaal was far ahead of them now, but he could still feel his hateful glare on his skin. He tried not to let tears fall from his watered eyes.
Thank you all for such amazing support over the past year! Here’s another segment of The Downtrodden, set late in Alek’s time as a Diçian prisoner.
Word count: 1703
CW: death mention, blood, dead bodies (briefly seen), prisoners of war, guilt, left for dead, abandoned, whumpee isn’t a minor but is viewed as a child from the main POV
Titans: Omega tag list: @nightly-whump, @whumped-cream, @ghostcomit, @whipper-whumper, @yet-another-heathen (let me know if you’d like to be added!)
-
“Get these doors open. We haven’t got all day!”
“Hold on, I’ve almost… Got it!”
The control board finally responded and the doors to the cell block creaked open. Major Tamarus and his troops entered as one of them worked to open the dozens of cells inside. It was eerily quiet in here, and Tamarus was sure a few prisoners would be calling out, maybe even walking if they had the strength. But it was too quiet.
“Spread out. Search for any survivors.”
He was met with a variety of ‘Yes sir’s as they scattered to search the cells. None of them were quite sure what to expect when their division of Pax Rebels raided the Diçian blacksite. It hadn’t even appeared on their radar until a couple of dœlae ago. The Diçians were informed of their plans a few days earlier, and evacuated before they arrived. But Tamarus suspected that they might have left some of their remaining prisoners for dead. Hopefully, a few would still be alive. But his hopes seemed to be dashed.
“Sergeant, make sure the medical team has some white ribbons available. I’m hoping we won’t have to use any, but…”
“I know, sir,” his Sergeant replied, “We might still find a couple of them.”
“Who knows how long they’ve been here? When they might have disappeared?”
As they searched, they found many of the cells empty. A few were occupied by the bodies of dead prisoners, signs of torture covering their skins. A few seemed to have died from abandonment, starvation. Others appeared to be shot. The smell turned Tamarus’ stomach in an unpleasant way.
“Oh, Em,” his Sergeant muttered quietly by his side. His head turned to see what she was looking at. His eyes found an open cell, dark except for the light shining in from outside. The body of a young soldier laid in the back, blood covering his clothes and skin, and coating the floor around him.
“Geez, these fucking savages,” Tamarus gasped, “He looks like a fucking kid, it’s—”
His words froze in his throat when he saw the prisoner shift. He watched carefully, finally noticing his chest rising and falling slowly. He was alive.
“Whoa, medic! We need a medic in here!” Tamarus shouted at the top of his lungs as he and his Sergeant rushed to the prisoner’s side. The smell of old blood was strong, but they pushed past it as they turned him over gently on his back.
“Careful, watch for any injuries,” Tamarus said as one of his medics ran in to join them. She held his wrist in one hand to check his pulse as she opened her medkit.
“His heartbeat is too low.” She ran a bioscanner over him and checked his eyes and breath. “We need to get hm on antibiotics and a respirator as soon as possible. He’ll need a blood transfusion too.”
Tamarus lifted the prisoner’s head gently and rested him against his knees. The prisoner groaned softly, his eyes twitching under the pain of being moved. He brushed some of his bloodstained blond hair out of his face.
“Hey, kiddo, can you hear me?” Tamarus tried to speak loud and clearly as the medic continued working. “My name is Major Unaira Tamarus, and we’re here to help get you out. Our medic here is checking you for any injuries. Can you tell me your name?”
The prisoner didn’t answer, but exhaled sharply as he tried to breathe. He was in bad shape, very bad shape. Dark circles hung under his eyes over pale, clammy skin that drew away warmth like a vacuum. Scars and bruises seemed to paint him underneath the blood stains. There was grime too, in his hair and over his tattered clothes from what must have been weeks of not being washed. He looked like a skeleton, so close to death that they really should have found him dead in here.
“We need to get him moving, right now,” the medic said as she began injecting boosters into the prisoner’s arm. “These should hold him for at least a few hours until we get to a triage facility, and I can give him an IV when we get to the ship.”
“What about his injuries? Blood loss?”
The medic frowned. “He doesn’t have any fresh wounds from what I can see. And none that would lead to this much bleeding.”
Tamarus looked up at her, a look of mild horror in his eyes. “What? Do you… you mean to say this isn’t his blood?”
“…No, I don’t think it is.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Tamarus saw his Sergeant fight the urge to gag at the thought. Days of being locked in here, covered in someone else’s blood, not knowing if the door would ever open again. He could imagine what that would do to someone’s mind. Or maybe he just didn’t want to.
“C’mon, let’s get him out of here so he can start treatment,” said Tamarus. “We can ID him on the ship en route.”
The medic nodded and retrieved a collapsible stretcher from her bag. It expanded as she and the Sergeant stretched it open. The three of them carefully lifted the prisoner up and onto the stretcher. He moaned quietly, his voice garbled in the back of his throat. Tamarus followed as his medic and Sergeant carried him out of the cell and down to where their ship was stationed.
Outside of the cell, his troops continued their search. Tiny flashes of white ribbons appeared around him, clenched tightly in anxious fists. That same sinking feeling from before returned in his stomach. He wasn’t confident that they would find many more living prisoners. With the state that kid was in, it’d be a miracle. So many dead around them.
There’s some good in this, he tried to convince himself. At the very least, we get to bring them home.
---
Two prisoners. That was all they found in the end. Two living, and nearly three dozen fallen, left behind to rot in their cells. Tamarus accompanied one of his ships back to the border after instructing most of the troops to secure the Diçian blacksite. He’d rejoin them soon, but he had to see all of the captives to their next journey.
After he and his Sergeant found the younger prisoner, a few other found another prisoner a level above, alive and surprisingly awake. He was older, perhaps in his 360’s, and was found huddled in the corner with a chain locked around his neck. It was frightening to see how willingly he went along with everything, accepting every suggestion or request as a command like he’d be killed if he resisted. There was a haunting deadness in his eyes as they freed his neck of the chain. They gave him antibiotics and sedatives to help him sleep on the flight back to the border.
Tamarus checked on their continuing route once more before returning to the ship’s temporary medical bay. Two of his team’s medical officers were there, including the one who helped care for the younger prisoner when they first found him. The two prisoners were now carefully strapped in cots to keep them from tossing in the ship’s motions. They slept soundly, or rather as soundly as they could after being rescued from such horrors.
“How are they doing?” He asked the medic who attended to the younger prisoner. She looked up from working on adjusting his IV.
“Not real improvement yet, I can’t determine anything until we get him on some proper equipment,” she said, cleaning as much of the blood staining his skin as she could. The more she cleared away, the younger he looked. Tamarus actually began to wonder if this soldier was actually of legal age to be in the military.
“Have you been able to ID them?”
“Yes, we have.” The medic pulled away and reached for a data pad, switching it on and pulling up the files they found. “Okay, here we have Private Alekoran Ryg Thnam, assigned to the 416th company of the Pax Rebel army two years ago, operating in a squadron commanded by Captain Davorus Imadaal. The whole group was taken prisoner in Kanalaya last year, according to our records. Looks like he began serving under Imadaal right after completing his basic training.”
“Wait, immediately after? How old is this kid?”
“Uh,” the medic’s brow furrowed as she searched his records. “He turned 174 about a month and a half ago.”
A child. Old enough to fight, but he was practically a baby. It was never shocking anymore when he heard of young people suffering and dying in this war. But it was never easy, especially seeing it firsthand. He exhaled sharply. “What about the other one?”
“Ah, yes. Sergeant Tzimer Corvalatus, age 354, assigned to the same company as Private Thnam 93 years ago and was taken prisoner at the same time. He’s doing better physically, but I’m worried about the psychological damage he went through while there.”
“No doubt they’ll both struggle during their recovery.”
“If they both survive.”
Tamarus nodded grimly. She meant Private Thnam when she said that. Even under the surgical mask strapped over his face, his breathing was shallow and rattled in his chest. Something was deeply wrong with him, and he’d be lucking to survive the trip to the triage facility alone. That was the ugly truth all of them would have to face over the next few days.
He wanted to stay and watch over them. In some ways, he felt responsible for their state of health, responsible that they didn’t get here sooner to save more prisoners. He felt like he owed as much to make sure they got the best care possible. But as much as he wanted to, they needed him up in control to navigate safely home.
“Inform me immediately of any changes, good or bad.” The medic nodded in response and Tamarus turned to leave. He couldn’t help but stop outside the door just once to look back. They were so helpless, so weak. He prayed to Em Zavo that they would survive the trip home.
Alekoran fought back a sob and pressed his head against Tzimer’s shoulder. Tzimer heard his distress and brushed his cheek against him. Neither of them wanted to think about the future, what it meant to be brought to a new place far away from their home. Alekoran couldn’t bring himself to imagine never going home again. Captain Davorus Imadaal always told them that they had to expect the worst during a war, that they had to be prepared to tough out all that came their way, but it was only recently that he had to face those very real chances at such a young age.
I remember when writing Arrivals and Ends, I wanted this part to highlight how young Alekoran is when he’s captured, and how his Captain’s rhetoric has influenced him during this time. He’s 173 in this scene, the equivalent of a 17 year old. Even though he’s a legal adult by Maltrinite standards, he’s still a kid facing a dangerous situation during a war. You see him immediately thinking about home and seeking out comfort from an older teammate like someone younger naturally would, while at the same time conflicted about acting strong and resilient like he was instructed to. Tzimer is a good surrogate big bro and knows Alekoran needs comfort offered in this time, not denied.
I also wanted to touch more on Davorus just being a dick. It alludes to it a little here and more later on (and I have a piece in mind where he’s the WORST) about his ‘tough luck’ approach to leadership. He expects his soldiers to be fearless in the face of danger and uncertainty, yet doesn’t prepare them for outcomes like this. It’s even worst when you know a considerable percentage of those under his command just came out of basic training. Imagine the professor who takes such pride in his rigid teaching instruction that he can’t see how his methods set his students up for failure, and in his eyes, it’s the students’ fault for not being smart enough or disciplined enough to learn the subject.
