For the second time that day, I stepped out from behind those black stone walls of my prison and out into the burning heat of the sun’s red glare. The bodies still littered the blood-soaked sands, faces twisted in agony, limbs and torsos scattered about. A scene of carnage, slaughter, of war.
It was one that I knew without a doubt that I would be seeing much more of in the days to come.
My feet hurt inside the boots that had been provided, the first that I had worn in years. Black trousers and tunic comprised the uniform that we had been provided, absent insignia but for the Vosk symbol in glowing red ceramic over the right breast.
Gloves of soft, black, leather covered our hands and our shaved heads and faces were bared for all to see. We still retained our collars of dull, grey, metal. The only symbol the Vosk needed to know our station.
In silence we crossed the plain and up the ramp, our boots echoing on the metal with every step. Inside was a well lit but empty space that was too small for the hundred and twenty people it had previously held, but more than ample for the nine of us.
As soon as we were aboard, the ramp retracted back into some hidden place within the hull as those great, wide, doors slowly slid closed. There were no guards, no seats, and the only sound the hum of the engines.
“What now?” Alyse asked, voice quivering.
No one answered, there was nothing to say. All of us had pulled back our minds and erected those walls that protected our innermost thoughts. It afforded us privacy from one another, but it also blinded us, leaving us as incapable of understanding one another as any normal human.
I did not enjoy that feeling.
The hull vibrated as the gun-cutter lifted effortlessly into the air, finding little resistance from the thin atmosphere. I pressed my hand against the hull, as much for support as anything, and waited for the journey to end while I enjoyed the quiet moment free from the torments and abuses of the past years.
My companions seemed to be taking the moment to enjoy the peace too, for they each moved apart from one another, settling themselves down on the deck plates as they waited for whatever would come next.
It was a telling sign of the years of imprisonment. The Vosk kept their word, and that was made clear early on. They promised rewards for those who spoke out against the others should they be committing acts that were contrary to the rules that were in place at the prison.
Even such small things as attempting to strike up a conversation with another prisoner were against the rules and considering the hell that we each faced daily, it was no hardship to report those infractions to the guards in an effort to be given a reprieve for even a short time.
My gaze went to Zan at that. She had been the one who reported on me, I was sure of it. Three years past but still it rankled that she had chosen a day of freedom for herself in return for greater torment for me.
I unclenched my fist, forcing myself to relax, and pushing away those emotions that pushed at my mental defences. It was not good to allow myself to feel anything for if I did, then I would feel everything and that way madness lay.
Instead, I leaned back against the cool metal of the bulkhead and slid down to a sitting position. There, I closed my eyes and waited. It was not a long wait.
The gun-cutter docked with a larger craft that had been in high orbit around the planet. The flight was not long enough for it to be anything else and the range of the gun-cutter was limited. It was no surprise then when the heavy clunk of metal meeting metal came to us, the craft rocking as it settled into a landing.
Without words, we all climbed to our feet and formed up in a neat line before the doors. Shoulders back, head high, arms at sides with hands open so that our masters could see that we were ready and awaiting orders.
“Fuck me.” I almost flicked my eyes towards the sound of the weary voice but managed to hold myself in place, staring straight ahead, as the doors finished opening and the ramp descended. “Well, come on then, get yourselves moving.”
The speaker was an imposing male some two metres in height with broad shoulders and a muscular frame. His face was uncovered and his uniform crimson, with black piping. A dull, grey, collar sat around his neck, the surface scuffed and worn.
His age was hard to determine though he spoke with the confidence of one who had seen much and lived hard. He carried a data slate in his hand and he tapped at the display with his other as we each descended the ramp.
“Right then, you’re the new batch,” he muttered, brown eyes fixed on the data slates screen. “Just the nine of you?”
No one answered. Unless the question was spoken and directed at you by a Vosk, you soon learned not to reply. The man seemed to understand this and he shook his bald head and pointed at Alyse.
“You, answer.”
“Yes, sir. Nine survived.”
“How many originally?”
“Twenty-seven began our training.”
He muttered something that I suspected we were not supposed to hear and shook his head once again.
“Well, far be it from me to question our master’s training methods, but someone will be pissed off that they are only getting nine of you.” He waved a hand as he set off walking. “Follow me then.”
The gun-cutter had landed inside a cavernous space that held several more of the box-like craft. More men wearing the crimson and black worked amongst those craft, their collars plain to see. Above them on a raised gantry stood the Vosk troopers in their crimson and gold uniforms complete with armour plating and faceless helms. Each cradled a pulse rifle and watched those working below.
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We went unnoticed and unremarked as we were led through a doorway and into a hallway beyond. We kept our faces forward with eyes fixed on the back of the head of the person before us, which made it difficult to see much of what I believed to be a spacecraft.
The distant hum of the engines could be heard constantly, a deep vibrating thrum that I couldn’t quite tune out. Even when someone spoke, a question asked and an answer received, the words seemed unable to block out that hum.
“In here,” the man directed, as he stopped and pointed to a doorway.
We filed inside what looked to be a storage bay, a little smaller than the hold of the gun cutter, but with a feeling of being much smaller due to the number of containers that had been piled one atop another.
There was a bench bolted to the wall and it was to this that we were told to move to as the man followed us inside the room. The door closed behind us as we took our seats and he took up position before us, data slate held loosely in his hand.
“I’m Sergeant Armin,” he said. “You can call me, Sarge.”
No response and he breathed a soft sigh.
“I know what you experienced down on the planet was bad, but up here things are not so rigid,” he continued. “You won’t be punished for answering or for looking around, you understand?”
A few mumbled words of agreement were the only response and even then, those who spoke immediately ducked their heads as though expecting a blow in response.
“Okay.” Sarge scratched at his chin as he considered us. “You are all psionic, rated class four or above, correct?”
“Yes,” I said, hearing agreement from the others.
“Good.” He lifted the data slate and tapped on the display. “Okay, each of you will be assigned to a separate squad, and you will be issued with the tools you will need. Currently, you are aboard an Ebon class troop transport, bound for the Aurelias System.”
He tapped on the display again and grunted.
“You do not need to know any other details than this. The Aurelias System is the target for Vosk expansion. The Vanguard Battle Fleet will arrive ahead of us and deal with any orbital defences. We will then force land on the surface of the fourth planet, the fifth planet and two moons of the seventh. Which of these our ship will land on is yet to be determined.”
Another scratch of his chin as he let his hand drop, the data slate slapping against his thigh as he shook his head softly.
“Look, I can give you the official bullshit if you want but the reality is going to be this. These worlds have not been attacked and when we land, there will be a lot of resistance. The Vosk will comprise the majority of the fighting force but you poor bastards will be thrown against that resistance with the intention of blasting through it.”
“I’d like to tell you that will be the only thing required of you, but the reality is that whichever Vosk commands you will determine just how fucked up your life will be.” He sighed. “You can’t escape and you have to obey, so pray to Holy Terra that you die quick because if these bastards win you will be used to commit atrocities that would make anyone sane weep.”
His face darkened as his eyes grew distant, painful memories intruding. Like us, he was a slave and clearly did not favour the Vosk. I had to wonder at why they would entrust slaves with such roles when those slaves very obviously despised their masters, but I knew that I could never understand their motivations.
“Gather up!” Sarge turned and slapped a control on the side of the nearest container. The side facing us swung down, forming a platform of sorts, upon which he began to place items he pulled from the container. “Come on then, get your arses over here.”
Curious, I moved first and looked over the items as I approached. Much of it was alien to me, but some I recognised.
“You won’t be given a pulse gun,” he said as he lifted a rod with a rounded pommel on one end and a flared base at the other. “You do get a blade though.”
He touched a button on the side of the rod and from the flared base, a silvery blob was extruded, the metal moving like liquid as it formed a two-foot-long pointed blade. He held it for a moment before releasing the button and I watched as the blade went from solid to almost liquid again, retreating back to where it had come.
“Comm badge,” he said, lifting the next item to show it. A solid piece of ceramic with the three stars of the Vosk symbol embossed upon its surface. “Attaches to your uniform. On the belt, breast, collar or sleeve. Wherever you can easiest reach it. Tap the three stars to start or end a communication which will be routed through the implant behind your ear.”
“You will also have a data slate, a med-pack and a water bottle.” Sarge held each item up in turn. “These will be attached to your equipment harness and will provide you with everything you need to return to the Vosk forces should you get separated.”
“Due to your role,” he continued. “It is very unlikely that you will need to use most of these items, but you will have them should the need arise.”
He placed each of the items onto a black harness made of some fibrous material that I was unfamiliar with and passed it over to me. He then gripped my arms and turned me to face the others before showing us all how to put on the harness and attach each of the items.
It was an uncomfortable experience, feeling the touch of another person. Far too many memories were brought to the fore and I shuddered with every touch as I willed myself to stillness, and waited for the demonstration to be over.
Once done, Sarge left me alone and passed out the same gear to the others, allowing them to slip the harness on themselves as I watched in stony silence. Finally, he stepped back and gave us all a cursory once over.
“Right.” He glanced at the data slate. “We will join the rest of the fleet in approximately two hours, and from there it will be another seven until the jump point. If you’ve not experienced the Warrens before, then it will be unpleasant but brief. No worse than anything you’ve already faced.”
“Sir?” Mikel asked quietly, raising a hand and flinching as Sarge looked his way.
“Not a sir, I’m Sarge.”
“Sorry.”
“Don’t be. Just don’t do it again. What do you want?”
“How many jumps until Aurelias?”
Sarge’s brows drew down as his eyes narrowed and he placed hands on his hips as he glared at Mikel. “You know better than to ask something like that. Are you fucking stupid or do you want to be brought before a Vosk Overseer?”
“Sir! Sorry, I didn’t mean…”
“Enough!” Sarge’s roar filled the room and Mikel wasn’t the only one who flinched. “You ask a question like that and it would be easy for someone to think you were trying to figure out where you were. The Vosk do not like people knowing anything about what is inside their borders. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Sarge.” Mikel hung his head, shivering with fear. “I beg forgiveness.”
“The Vosk are animals,” Sarge snarled. “They will flay your skin for the fun of it if they think you are a threat. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Sarge.”
“Questions will get you killed.” Sarge made sure to look at each of us in turn so that we all got his point. “You are slaves. Worse than that, because of your abilities, you are weapons, and weapons do as commanded and do not ask questions.”
Mikel nodded, and the others followed suit. I inclined my head as the sergeant’s gaze met my own and he grimaced before crossing to the door. He hit the panel beside it and the door slid open with a soft whoosh of escaping air.
“Fall in and I’ll take you to your squads.”
We lined up before the door and once in place, he gave a curt nod and led the way through. We followed in silence once more. The weight of the blade on my hip was strange to me and warranted not even a glance from the Vosk troopers who we passed.
So confident were they in their ability to control us that they would allow us to walk around with weapons on our belts. More than that, they knew what we could do, and still, they did not fear us.
That scared me more than anything else. Any hope of one day freeing myself was gone in an instant as I understood that they did not fear us, for we were theirs. Entirely, fully, theirs. Body, mind and soul.
Tears shimmered in my eyes as I walked, but I kept my head up and shoulders back, as inside I died a little.