CHAPTER X: SENATOR DIRANA SULEM

Catacombs beneath Hassoon

Jawhara, Capital of the Eobaria System

December 17, 2771

Dirana felt sick, but she could never let it show. If she threw up like her stomach yearned to, in a combination of fear and shock, the little hope that her group of survivors had might not last. She put on a brave front while she led them into an old public housing building and through a hidden trap door.

The warship held over the tower of the Senior House for hours, watching silently as it deployed dozens of blocky troop carriers onto the city below. Two thirds of them dropped into strategic positions around the edge of Hassoon, then one third hovered in a ring over the city center.

Hundreds of Scandar soldiers emerged along the perimeter, equipped with electric Railcaster rifles, ornate battle armor and ceremonial war paint. They forced people from their homes and corralled them into a mob in the streets. Stragglers or runners were shot, while the Scandar formed a Spartan Phalanx and marched the civilians towards the heart of Hassoon. Once there, the second ring of troop carriers descended and formed an impromptu prison camp in the Outreach Pavilion. Thousands upon thousands of civilians were being herded and processed by the Scandar invasion force, but so far as it appeared, there was no fight to speak of. Hassoon lacked a standing military and policing was a community effort, but this left them without a standing defense capacity, so most community leadership agreed the best immediate course of action was to cooperate and bide their time.

In her 20s, Dirana would have balked at the idea of surrendering to a colonizing force — but after 15 years in politics and community work, she bitterly knew they were right. The Scandar relish armed resistance; if they fought back, their invaders would just gleefully cut down the mob.

Dirana dropped down the ladder to the dirt ground, then guided Jaya down as she descended unsteadily. With her hand on Jaya’s back, Dira quickly scanned the catacomb around them: rough-hewn circular tunnel upheld by a few wood frames, a couple trails of power cables bolted to the wall and multiple diverging paths, just as she left it. When Jaya finally dismounted the ladder, she caught her breath and strained to look around.

“What is this place?” she panted.

“Catacombs,” she answered, leading Jaya and the dozen others down the tunnel. “Jawhara was first used for mining before they discovered it was dry, left the mines half-dug. When I took office, I had them resume digging — not for mining, but emergencies.”

“Why would that cross your mind?” Jaya asked, bemused.

“I wasn’t always a Senator, Jaya,” Dirana felt along the dirt wall, rooting around for something. “Life isn’t always so generous.”

“Oh, tricks your Trilancer boy taught you?” Jaya half-heartedly joked, fighting to ease her panic.

“Psh,” Dira scoffed, pulling a lever down from behind a wood frame. “I taught him.”

As she retorted, a chunk of stone wall depressed with a hiss, stale air escaping as Dira pushed open a secret door. She waved in the group with her, and Jaya waited to go last. “…Sorry, Dira,” she kneaded her hands, “I shouldn’t doubt you, I know that—”

“It’s alright,” Dira assured, clasping Jaya’s hands in hers.

“How…how are you so calm?”

Dirana sighed bittersweetly and wiped a tear from Jaya’s cheek. “This isn’t my first occupation. Resistance is an old friend.”

With that, she patted Jaya’s cheek and led her through the door, into old safe house. Shelves along one wall lined with non-perishables and water tanks, a comm station in the corner, a water filtration system, medical supplies hygiene kits in the other, and her work station at the head — with a little personality thrown in, like a sprawling tapestry of different rugs over the dirt floor, sound-proofed walls painted bold colors and some board games on a table, an unfinished backgammon game still on top.

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“Wha…” Jaya trailed, “What is this?”

“My home away from home,” Dirana smiled despite it all, “In case I ever needed some real quiet.”

The survivors settled in on some bedrolls or just on the carpet itself, while one of them, a nurse, snatched a medical kit and began checking people over. Dirana circled the room and did a headcount, patting some folks on the shoulder or head and assuring them everything was alright. She checked in with the nurse, relieved that there were no serious injuries beyond a few scrapes and a couple ruptured ear drums, but Jaya and the others were treated with some instant pain relievers, cooling balms to reduce swelling and fast-acting relief salves. When Dira was certain they were all okay, she pulled Jaya aside.

“Are you well enough to do some work?”

“Whatever you need, Dira,” Jaya nodded, the smooth professional assistant back intact.

Dira smiled and took her to the radio station. “There’s written instructions on how to make a distress call, send it out and don’t stop repeating until you get a response.”

“But if they took disabled our satellites, it—”

“I know, but if we use a simpler code, they may mistake it for signal interference from their hijacking. It’s not a guarantee, but it’s the best you can do.”

“What about you?”

Dirana swallowed and stood straight. “I’m going to give myself up.”

“What??” Jaya whisper-yelled, pulling Dirana aside, their backs to the survivors. “You can’t be serious!”

“I’m a Senator,” she shook her head, “They’ll be looking for local leadership. They have thousands of hostages up there, and if I give myself up, I can advocate for them. Prevent them from being tortured.”

“Or be tortured along with them!”

“No, I do not think so. This was not an all-out invasion, it’s a silent ambush. The Scandar don’t operate like this, they rain fire and charge headlong, this ship hasn’t even fired on the surface. They are not here to pillage and burn, they want something. If I can get negotiating stance with their leader, we might have a chance.”

“Dira we don’t know this place, you do! We need you down here!”

“No, you all need to stay put. There are enough supplies here to last you for weeks, and the water filter will work under any conditions. Seal the door behind me, and stay here.”

“Who’s going to help keep everyone calm??”

“You, Jaya!” Dirana took her by the shoulders. “You manage my campaign, handling chaos is your day to day! I just need you to stand up and do it for these people. Can you do that for me?”

Jaya broke eye contact and swallowed, holding back tears. Anxiety, panic, sadness at her friend leaving, all of the above, who could say. “…Dira, I don’t know—”

Dirana gently cradled her face and forced her to meet her eyes. “Jaya, we are what people need us to be. And right now, these people don’t need all that I used to be. They don’t need a fighter, they don’t need a martyr and they don’t need a Senator — they need a shield. I can buy time with the occupiers while more of us escape, and you can get our voice across the Skyfield. I need you to rise to this challenge. Please.”

Jaya was silent for a long beat, then swallowed and nodded weakly. Dirana pulled her close and hugged her tight. She watched Jaya start up the radio, then looked at the survivors gathering blankets and water, and waited for a moment when all their backs were turned, and slipped out the door. She had Jaya seal it shut behind her and she walked back out to the catacombs, sealing the secret passage and hiding the lever behind the wood beam.

Dira took slow breaths as she took the long way to another exit to the tunnel system. There was always a chance she was wrong. Scandar soldiers tended to be temperamental and prideful. Maybe they’d kill her on sight. Maybe they’d torture her for the sake of it. Maybe they’d make her watch as they hurt innocents. These scenarios all ran through her mind, but she couldn’t give them credence. If she did nothing, the invaders would get impatient and start killing anyway. This way, at least, she could maybe reduce the amount of suffering.

She hated to admit it, but beneath all her hard work, beneath her faith in ‘what life really is,’ and telling Jaya their real job was making people happy and safe, all at once reality came crashing down. Now she saw the real DNA of her job — it wasn’t making life better, it was just hoping to reduce the suffering. That would have to be enough, she told herself. Now especially, it was more than enough — it was all that mattered. She had to mitigate and delay the effects of this attack. As much as she could, as long as she could stand. Speak. Breathe. If her heart beat, she had to fight for the next minute.

She bit her lip and shut her eyes, chiding herself. After all this time, she’d started to believe things could be different. She’d hoped the United Planets’ rhetoric might’ve been right, perhaps all of civilization truly had left archaic wastes like war behind them, perhaps they really had made it…

They should’ve known better. She, of all people, should’ve known better.

Under the ladder to the surface, she let herself fall apart and weep for a while.