Chapter LXXXV

Extraction Season

In the second section of the camp, there was an outdoor park, a rectangular space formed by the backdrops of silver tents. During the day, the space was used as a teaching ground and by night it was transformed by Civerix and Ufthasa, two Kapas with permission from the Silver Council to turn it into a recreational area after work hours. They wanted a place to relax and enjoy their homemade beers and share it with the community. They added barrel chairs and wood tables to enhance the brewery's atmosphere, illuminated by LED strips and screens showcasing incredibly old music videos, with even some live performances every now and then.

Raxae, along with Remian and Zunkit, awaited their arrival. Ever since Adriaas had saved them during the incident at the beach, they had become close friends. Adriaas overcame the guilt she felt about Indictur’s death by discussing it with Raxae weeks after the shark attack.

One evening months before, they asked for a seat at Adriaas table after Gidit had called it a night. "May I take a seat, master Chesed?"

"Skip the formalities. I never made it to the Chesedin," Adriaas said, relieved that her girlfriend was asleep and unaware of her flushed cheeks. "It’s all yours." She gestured towards the empty seat.

Raxae sat across from Adriaas that night. "I want to apologize for not thanking you for what you did for me. Sorry and thank you. There’s barely a scar left," Raxae said earnestly, clad in a red jacket over a yellow jumpsuit, standing out from the others who typically wore shades of green, brown, or black for camouflage.

"You were lucky they didn’t choose to fish further away from camp. The situation could’ve been worse," Adriaas recalled the chaotic, bloody scene and the surge of adrenaline.

"I’m aware. I didn’t come for a lecture. It’s simply a thank you," Raxae responded with her usual sincerity.

"And you’re very welcome. It’s not my intention to lecture anyone here, just thinking about probabilities," Adriaas replied.

"You are forgiven," Raxae said, pushing her shoulder playfully. "But before we continue our conversation, I need to apologize."

“For what?” Adriaas asked, puzzled, trying to grasp what Raxae was referring to.

“I should have opened up to you earlier,” Raxae confessed. “After the breakout and Indictur’s death, the mere thought of speaking to the person who witnessed his last moments kept me distant. I avoided you for a long time. But remember the beach? You saved my life there. They had to tell me it was you; I couldn’t remember anything beyond trying to swim to the shore.”

“I’ve often wondered if my reservations about you were my intuition signaling that it wasn’t the right time to discuss what happened,” Adriaas admitted, feeling a wave of relief. “The Empress pushed me to the edge of my sanity, and Indictur stepped in. I never thought—”

Raxae's determination radiated strongly, as if they were on the verge of unleashing a Naadi. “Whatever happened, I don’t want to ever talk about it. Sabina will have to answer for his death. I don’t care about the circumstances; I just want to know who did it. Let’s take a shot and forget these senseless thoughts.”

Adriaas didn’t need to be told twice and followed Raxae to the bar. Once in line, a nagging thought troubled her.

“There’s something I need to tell you, Raxae. Before he died, Indictur asked me to tell you he loved you and was sorry for not saying goodbye.”

Their eyes clouded with emotion, but they only responded with a soft, “Thank you.”

Several months later, Adriaas found herself in the same line, with Gruvin next to her.

“Got any darks?” Adriaas asked, craving some cold sourness.

“We have six kettles left from our last brew. Fancy a pint?” Ufthasa offered.

Gruvin agreed to the same drink, and soon, they were cooling their hands with the chilled brews.

“You both look like furka,” Raxae commented as they joined them at the table next to Remian and Zunkit. “Wasn’t the whole point of having more assistants to lighten the workload?”

“That was the plan,” Adriaas sighed, taking a seat. “But the workload tripled in just six months. It’s been tough to keep up. Tonight is the first time we’ve hung out in months!”

“Might even be a whole year,” Gruvin added, doing some mental math. “Ten months!”

Adriaas shook her head in disbelief. “Time is flying by!”

“That’s true,” Raxae agreed, pointing to the beers they’d already downed. “Hey, I have a question. Why is Silidian underrated these days?”

“Maybe because people can play it in their virtualis, without the risk?” Adriaas suggested.

“That’s a fair point. Personally, I miss the freedom to travel,” Gruvin said, settling beside Adriaas. “To transport like a malkuthian, reaching any destination in twenty minutes after leaving home, even the moon. It’s amazing how far our society has come with levitators, fishtanks, porters, and stagnums.”

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“A society we’re now exiled from,” Zunkit added with a pessimistic smile.

“But also the one that brought us together,” Adriaas countered, her voice reflecting unfiltered thought.

Laughter erupted from all four, not taking the conversation too seriously.

“It’s been a while since I’ve heard such a romantic take on living in Sectum,” her mentor observed. “But Zaraz, finding each other doesn't compensate for the lives lost here. I’d choose Malkuth a million times over.”

“So, Gruvin,” Raxae shifted the topic, “how did you end up here?”

Gruvin looked at her, holding his half-finished pint of dark beer.

“Wait, let me finish this first.”

After downing the rest of his beer, he began a story Adriaas had heard before.

“When I was sixty-seven, as a Senior Chesed, I foolishly enhanced my reality by using H-42 during duty. It led to a malpractice incident.”

“You? Hard to believe,” Raxae exclaimed, clearly impressed. “What happened?”

“I hallucinated, mistaking a woman’s leg for a cobra and accidentally severed it,” he confessed, remorse tinging his voice. “She underwent weeks of regeneration therapy.”

“That’s terrible, man,” they sympathized, patting his shoulder. “How much longer do you have here?”

“Three more years in Dictaduria, that’s it!”

“That’s fourteen years less than me! Good for you,” Raxae said, genuinely happy for him.

“Oh, wow, I didn’t realize,” Gruvin said awkwardly. “I’m sorry.”

Raxae waved off the apology with a high-pitched, dismissive gesture.

“Don’t be sorry. You got here before us. We should be grateful. Otherwise, we might as well be dead.”

“That’s true!” Adriaas echoed the sentiment. “Raxae is right. You’re the reason I survived the prison break, and your teachings helped me heal.”

“In a million realities, at least,” Raxae joked, taking another sip of beer before burping.

“What do you mean?” Zunkit asked, intrigued by the comment.

“I’ve dreamt of a world where I became a Netzach,” they continued, taking another drink. “A life without Sectum or its memories. It was an incredible experience. You can’t imagine the pain when the morning bell interrupted it. I cried into my pillow.”

“Aren’t we a dramatic bunch?” Gruvin teased, trying to stifle his laughter. “So how did you get her Rax?”

“As if I would share such deep memoried with someone like you, calling me dramatic!” Raxae scoffed, giving Gruvin a disdainful look in response to his tease. “Don’t worry, Adriaas, my dear. I’ll share it with you and pretend this fool is just a pile of organic fluids.”

Adriaas couldn’t help but laugh, while their mentor rolled his eyes.

“So delicate!” he exclaimed, his mood clashing with theirs. “Why can’t I make a joke around you?”

“Because you’re rude. You laugh at me, not with me, brother,” Raxae retorted, clearly irritated. “To answer your question, I stabbed a man three times in the chest after he beat me like a homo erectus, unworthy of our synthesis. We both got punished, but he was sent straight to Dictaduria.”

It was the first time Adriaas had heard this story.

“Why did you get into a fight?” she asked, her curiosity piqued.

“He was mocking me, like Gruvin, but much worse,” Raxae explained.

Realizing he had touched a sensitive topic, Adriaas’s mentor looked ashamed. “Sorry, I got carried away. It’s a flaw of mine.”

Raxae laughed, satisfied with the reaction they had provoked. “Work on it, and we’ll be fine.” Finishing their beer, they stood up. “I need another one. Anyone else?”

As Adriaas finished her drink, she stood up too. “Count me in! Another one, please!” She felt the lightness in her body. “Wait! Maybe I need to slow down a notch.”

“Nonsense!” Gruvin protested, unswayed. “We’re not on duty!”

“Let’s not repeat past mistakes, shall we?” Adriaas said, her tone more serious, hinting at the reason for his exile. “What if we’re needed?”

“They won’t need us. We’ve trained them, remember?” the old man argued, stubborn and slightly tipsy after saying he would not drink. “You’re being too judgmental, Extarri! I wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. The plan was to encourage you to have fun, and now I’m regretting it.”

In their community, an unwritten rule persisted not to judge those who confidentially shared the reasons for their exile. No one was exempt from judgment. Adriaas, presumed guilty like the rest, played along. No one in that country knew of her innocence, except Bitlan and Sabina.

“So, I’ve heard rumors about the dark faction,” Raxae changed the subject, their tone serious. “Purlaz, one of the old members, mentioned that the leaders are recruiting shadows. Have you heard anything? Count me in if you do. Just imagine the thrill!”

“It seems some of us truly belong in these lands, don’t you think? Are you guys having a party and forgot to invite us?” Miveria joked as she appeared, giving Raxae a neck massage.

“You need to relax, my friend. Your neck is tight,” she noted, holding a drink in her left hand.

“When did you get that beer? I didn’t see you in line!” Gruvin asked, puzzled.

“I don’t do lines,” she replied firmly. “Are you guys hungry?”

The question was met with enthusiastic nods.

“Where’s Elchome?” Adriaas inquired, just as pizza was ordered.

A few weeks prior, Emeria, an Italian chef and former Tipharet, had joined their cause. She had constructed a seaside oven away from the camp to prevent smoke from attracting attention. Since then, she had been working tirelessly, quickly earning her place in the camp and everyone’s hearts.

“He’s in a last-minute strategy meeting,” Miveria revealed in a hushed tone, her expression serious as she took a seat on the last barrel chair at the table. “Apparently, it’s extraction season. Gidit was part of the first wave. There’s an unusual number of imperials being sent to other countries.”

“Why?” Raxae asked, processing the news faster than the others.

“From what I’ve heard, it happens every few years. It’s a review of sentences, and some are reduced while others are extended based on behavior,” Miveria explained, taking a sip of her beer.

“How do we know if our sentences have been extended?” Remian whispered, barely audible.

“You don’t. The only way extarri can find out when their time to leave, is on their anniversaries of arrival, depending on their original sentences. If their calculations are correct, they either leave or stay. It’s as simple as that.”

“That’s a thought I’ll try to forget. Thanks,” Zunkit muttered, taking a sip of her beer.

“I can see why losing talented soldiers would warrant an emergency strategic meeting with the council. Who else has left?”

“Gidit and Gruvin are part of the crisis. My letter should come within the next six months, possibly sooner. Then it’s Remian’s turn next year, maybe Elchome. A couple of council members are also expected to leave soon. Lunkir has seven months, Biphenus thirteen, Kirzelya has a year, and Bitlan might leave after the summer...”

Adriaas tuned out the rest of Miveria’s words. The inevitability of Bitlan's departure weighed on her. He had been traveling, creating factions, forging alliances, and advancing the revolution. Capahuento had remained strong until the extractions began to jeopardize those efforts, menacing to destroy the family created in the wilderness of Imperia over the years.

****

Thank you for reading! See you in "Chapter LXXXVI - What the Future Holds". If you can't wait and wish to continue, Patreon is running with up to 20 chapters (7ish weeks) ahead of RR release.

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