Finding Refuge: A Place of Refuge, #1

Finding Refuge

A Place of Refuge: 1

Victoria Janssen

For Natlyn. The story after the story.

One

Talia’s dream was raucous with laughter and conversation and vivid color. Miki pulled great rainbows of flowers from a Federated helmet with a single bullet hole through its reflective face mask, and tossed them to Talia, who let them shower to the ground like rain. The flowers sang a pattersong, flapping their counterpoint beats with their petals. Talia offered a plate of freshly-baked boots to all her friends in turn. None of it seemed strange, except how tearfully glad she was to see them all.

Then they vanished, and she was alone.

When Talia opened her eyes on her last morning in her cell, the needled bulb which continually fed suppressant drugs into her veins was gone. She lurched to her feet, grabbing at the slick wall when her weakened legs failed to support her. The door slammed open and two Federated Colonies guards stepped smartly inside, their face masks distorting Talia’s reflection. A third and fourth, also armored, seized her arms and hustled her into the corridor, their gloved fingers painfully squeezing her flesh against her bones.

I’m to be executed at last, she thought vaguely. The miasma of drugs clouded her every thought, as well as the remnants of her Damarae telepathy. She’d been in this prison for a long time. She was sure any information she might once have had about Jon Churchill and his dissenter rebellion was long out of date. She hoped her death would be quick.

At the end of a forced walk long enough to make her pant for breath, a door loomed. Head drooping, she didn’t see it until she was hurled at it. It slid open and she fell through, collapsing onto the cold metal floor of another cell, easily identified by its inexorable white lights and tang of bleach and old blood. She tried to lift herself, but her wrists and elbows collapsed beneath her. Someone grasped her shoulder and helped to turn her over.

She defiantly lifted her gaze, staring with utter disbelief into the pale round face of Miki Boudreaux.

Miki’s brown eyes were huge in her pale face; her long chestnut braid felt so real against Talia’s bare arm. Escaped hairs prickled against the hairs on Talia’s forearm, a detail she did not think she could have imagined. Miki’s hands were shaking and Talia’s face felt numb.

After a time, Miki lifted her up and carried her carefully, awkwardly, to the single bench and sat, uncharacteristically silent, with Talia held close on her lap. The movement felt real, too, not just dizziness. The room didn’t shift or change, as it might in a drug dream. Talia shook, because Miki’s whole body was trembling. After a while Talia noticed that her ribs were throbbing in distinct points where Miki gripped her and, dizzily, she forced her mouth to form words, a skill she hadn’t practiced in far too long. Miki, you’re hurting me. Too tight.

Tallie? Miki breathed.

The sound of her own name filled an abyss within her that, until that moment, she had been unaware of. Slowly she dared to lift her head. Miki’s warmth was sinking into her chilled skin. She was surrounded by a familiar scent. She had not realized she still remembered Miki’s scent, or that it could comfort her so deeply. She reached up and touched the gold rings linked through the delicate pink-tinged helix of Miki’s left ear. The metal was warm. Miki’s ear was warm, as was her rosy cheek, and the soft, soft underside of her jaw.

Gloved fingers touched Talia’s chin, not Miki’s hand, and she looked up. She was almost unsurprised to see Faigin Balfour, her sardonic face thin and drawn, dramatic wings of eyebrows pinched together. The collar of her dark shirt was fastened tightly up her throat, to hide the Federated interfaces that spanned her melanin-rich skin; her stiff black hair looked freshly cropped, close to the elegant shape of her skull. Her cheekbone was badly bruised. Faigin said, with the very faintest hint of unsteadiness, You seem to be Talia, as I remember her. But a great deal smaller.

You’re thin as a ghost, Miki explained, near her ear, her gentle voice lilting along Talia’s nerves. Her hands now clasped at the small of Talia’s back. Talia’s face was tucked up beneath her chin. So odd. Talia had always been the fighter, the protector. Talia should be the one holding Miki.

Miki and Faigin both, alive. And, as she opened her numbed psychic senses as best she could, she felt them here. Real. Truly present in the room with her. This feeling wasn’t her long-dormant telepathy, but her sense of their presence was undeniable nonetheless.

I don’t eat much, Talia said at last, her voice trembling as well as her muscles. She unfolded her arm and exposed the ashy patch where adhesive usually held needled tubes to her brown skin.

Talia, Faigin said. Tell me something only you would know.

Faigin’s jaw was tight and her brows contracted, in a way that meant she was suppressing strong emotion. Without having to think, Talia said, Sunshine.

Faigin smiled, teeth flashing like lightning. Enough! Don’t say any more in front of Miki.

Fine, just ignore me, fine! Miki complained, clutching Talia closer and choking back a sob. She kissed Talia’s temple, and pressed her forehead to Talia’s scalp.

Talia asked, How did you come here? This small speech exhausted her. She let her head loll on Miki’s shoulder.

Faigin sat down to Miki’s left. Heroics, Faigin stated, drily.

Talia rubbed her forehead, trying to ease the pounding that never seemed to stop. You hate heroics.

I never said they were my choice. We were gathered up on a planet called Eris Tertius, Faigin told her.

Oh. She closed her eyes, drifting. Miki was here. Miki was touching her. She could still feel Miki and Faigin here, in the room with her. They were not hallucinations.

Talia? Faigin asked, her voice unusually soft. How did you get here?

From very far away, Talia found her voice. I couldn’t get back up the tunnel...the ceiling had fallen...there was another tunnel...they came looking for...Jon. And found me.

So, you’ve been captive since we were separated. We thought you’d been killed by the explosion, or crushed when the tunnel collapsed. That you were....

Tried to...call....

It doesn’t matter, Miki broke in, and kissed Talia’s head again. Her voice was shaky. Let her alone, Faigin. She’s doped up.

True, Talia mumbled. Not like our visit to Stardust.

So you remember that, eh? Those drugs were a lot nicer than Federated interrogation drugs. And the music, and the dancers, remember those?

Remembering was a feeling close to joy. The thudding in her temples had lessened slightly; she lifted her head. I’ll be better without their...filthy drugs. She gathered her breath slowly, casting her eyes about the room without real interest. She was so tired. How did you get here? How did you find me?

We were brought here, Faigin explained, from Eris Tertius.

She’d always loved the furred rasp of Faigin’s voice. It took a moment to make sense of her words. Oh, yes, I remember now...but there’s more. This she knew.

She felt rather than heard Faigin’s sigh. It was another trap. I thought we’d found Jon for sure this time. It was a very elaborate trap as you might imagine. Commissioner Charles’ soldiers took us prisoner.

Oh. He’s...you didn’t manage to kill him yet.

Miki snorted with laughter. Talia took a moment to realize why. I’m sorry, Faigin.

Faigin said drily, I’m touched by your faith in us, but Charles disappeared after we lost you, and wasn’t seen again until the two of us were summoned to the Eris system. And—we’ll tell you about it later.

Talia had lost track of the conversation. She closed her eyes.

What we haven’t figured out is why we’re here and not dead already, Miki said. But you’re alive, Tallie! You’re here with me! She tightened her grip and rocked Talia in her arms, singing softly, cheek rubbing gently against Talia’s shaven head. Talia was lulled to sleep by a pattersong about stealing from an FC supply depot.

Later, Talia struggled to wakefulness from under a heavy weight, which she realized from its familiar scent was Faigin’s battered leather jacket. She began to sit up, and someone helped her. Miki, still by her side. She smiled; the expression felt strange and stiff, as if her skin was creased paper, her facial muscles dried and desiccated like bundles of herbs.

Welcome back from the dead, Miki said, with a hint of her sweet smile. Her eyes were swollen and red.

But now we’re all prisoners. As the suppressant drugs faded, she had realized what it meant, that they were captive together. Even before her capture, Jon Churchill had been lost to them, and the larger part of his rebellion against the Federated Colonies had already lay in ruins, scattered to pockets among the colonized worlds. Unless any of the others are here.

It’s just us now, Miki said. It’s been just us two for a little while now.

The others gave up.

We don’t know where any of them are.

Of course Miki would say that, whether she knew or not. They were Federated prisoners, and everything they said was monitored. But Talia knew Miki’s face and all its myriad expressions, and if their friends had been dead, her face would have shown it. There must be a reason I was brought to you.

True, but we don’t know why yet. We’re apparently going to be kept alive long enough that a bit of medical care is worth the FC’s while. They gave me bandages for your arm, and water and food. You ate a bit, though I bet you don’t remember. I hope you don’t. It was terrible stuff. Like someone dug old emergency rations out of a roach-infested hole in a barracks’ wall.

Talia gathered Faigin’s jacket around her. Miki helped her to settle the warm weight. She swallowed. "I