Chapter 9 - The Price of Refuge

  Things were moving much faster than Darius was comfortable with.

  The whole vibe of the factory had shifted once the injured Alain had been carted off for medical attention. He had expected people to be nervous, worried about their odds, about what the Empire was going to do, how they were going to lay low.

  He hadn’t expected excitement.

  It turned out that Lena wasn’t the only Freeholder to feel that things were just getting good – while none of the members looked outright happy, there was a palpable sense of energy buzzing around the place. Even more worrying was the sudden appearance of weapons on people’s hips or strapped to their backs.

  Things were getting real in a way that he wanted no part of.

  “Come on, Darius, let’s get you kitted out,” Lena chirped, clapping him on the back before turning and striding back towards the corridor leading to their common area. Darius followed numbly, sparing a glance towards the office where Harlan, Voss, and a few other people – presumably squad leaders – were talking. He had the feeling he wouldn’t like whatever it was they decided on.

  He also couldn’t shake the feeling that his window for getting out of this mess was rapidly closing. It was one thing to tag along with the Freeholders when it was nothing more than laying low and making the odd supply run, but a whole nother thing when it looked like they were gearing up for war.

  Imperial propaganda had always been openly dismissive of the Freeholder movement, stopping just shy of calling them totally incompetent. Darius usually knew better than to fully buy into what the Empire was telling its citizens, but this was a rather extreme case of misinformation. Was it this particular group that was more intense than the rest, or was the Empire trying to cover up the scope of the problem?

  Realistically, Darius knew it was likely a mixture of the two. But as Lena strode over to the kitchenette and started pulling guns out of one of the drawers, he couldn’t help but wonder if this was what his brother had been involved in.

  Lena tossed a pistol his way, and he fumbled to catch it before it could hit the floor, ending up holding it gingerly by the grip. “Uh, look, I don’t really… need a gun,” he stammered uncomfortably. This was happening way too fast.

  Lena laughed, bright and cheery. “Don’t worry! We’re not expecting you to actually use it – it’s just in case. Better to have it and not need it, right?”

  “I’d rather just… not have it, to be honest,” he admitted, cautiously placing it on the bench and making sure the business end was pointed away from him. He might not know much about guns, but he was pretty sure it was a bad idea to point it at anything you didn’t want a hole in.

  “Relax, it’s not even loaded yet.” she drawled somewhat condescendingly. Darius felt that she was being awfully sassy for someone who couldn’t be older than twenty, but in fairness, she was strapping a holster to her leg with a somewhat worrying amount of expertise. He wasn’t ashamed to admit he had his strengths and weaknesses, and military hardware was not on his list of strengths.

  “Look,” Lena said, stepping over to scoop up the pistol and push it into his hands more firmly. “We’re not planning on charging headfirst into a firefight, alright? But if things go south, you’re going to be glad you have a backup option.”

  Darius took the pistol with a wince. “I don’t even know how to use this thing,” he admitted.

  “Oh, that’s easy. Just point it in the general direction of the bad guys and pull the trigger!”

  “I can’t help but think that somewhere, a safety officer just woke up in a cold sweat,” Darius said dryly. Lena laughed, moving back to the drawer and passing him a few magazines of ammunition, quickly showing him the basics on how to unload and reload.

  The thing that struck him the most about the weapon was the weight of it in his hand. It wasn’t that it was heavy, as such, more just… solid. Despite himself, a small thrill of excitement curled in his chest. He’d never really understood why some people would get so excited over guns, but holding one now felt surprisingly cool.

  Before he could ask for any more tips, Tarek stormed into the room, muttering curses under his breath. The irate man didn’t stop or acknowledge either of them; he just moved to a table, grabbed a rag and started wiping down an already-clean rifle with far too much force.

  Darius shared a quick glance with Lena, though neither of them were willing to poke that particular bear. They didn’t have long to dwell on it before Harlan appeared, strolling into the room with a controlled sort of calm.

  “Alright, everyone,” he announced, “Gather round. We’ve got our next run set up. Chances are we have limited time before Imperial patrols tighten up the major routes. As such, the decision has been made to hit some of the higher-risk drop points to make sure we’re stocked up.”

  Darius did not like the sound of that.

  Lena nudged him with an eager grin. “This’ll be fun.”

  “Tarek and Kallan,” Harlan continued, ignoring the interruption, “both of you are already on their radar. We might as well put that to use and let the rest keep a lower profile.”

  “Hang on,” Darius interjected, raising his hand. “That seems like a fantastic way to get us all caught.”

  Harlan’s expression didn’t so much as flicker. “It’s also a good way to keep the others safer. We’ll split attention and draw off some of the heat. Voss seems to think that the Empire’ll be looking at you first.”

  Darius spluttered. That was a rather significant shift from Voss’s initial assurances of ‘don’t worry, we won’t send you on the dangerous jobs’ to ‘oh, I know, let’s dangle him out as bait’.

  Tarek scoffed, still holding his rifle in a way that made the hair on the back of Darius’s neck tingle. “Should have known you were a coward,” he sneered.

  Darius glared back, not even remotely ashamed. He’d never signed up for this stuff in the first place, and besides… cowards lived longer. That said… well, to put it bluntly, he really didn’t see any other options.

  Even in the event that the Freeholders didn’t hold anything against him and were happy to let him walk away with the knowledge of where the base was, he was rather short on other places to hide.

  “Kallan, a word?” Harlan asked calmly, gesturing to the relative privacy of the corridor. “Look, I understand that this isn’t what you were hoping for. Voss has filled me in a little more about your situation, and I’ve been instructed to ask if you think this sudden uptick in Imperial attention might have anything to do with your situation.”

  Darius opened his mouth to deny it but paused. That… surely not, right? Then again, Echo was rather cagey about why the Empire wanted him in the first place, and considering how he had been on an Imperial warship, it wasn’t out of the realms of possibility that he had some military secrets that the Empire would cheerfully kill to get back.

  {It is almost certainly related.} Echo chimed in, helpful as always. Darius grimaced, unwilling to actually admit his potential culpability out loud.

  Harlan grunted, reading it from his expression. “Damn. Right then, that makes this next bit unpleasant. Basically, Voss has told me to tell you that if you don’t contribute to these missions, we’ll… well, let’s just say you’ll be serving as a distraction either way.”

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  Darius took a deep breath. “Well, I don’t know what I expected,” he said bitterly. “Just about typical for how my week is going.”

  Harlan rubbed at his eyes, glancing up and down the corridor to make sure they weren’t being overheard. “I’m not going to lie; this doesn’t sit right with me either,” he admitted. “Forcing you into this situation feels… well, to be honest, it feels like something the Empire would do. As such… I won’t be keeping too close an eye on you during this run. If you happened to slip away, then…” he trailed off, the implication clear.

  Darius nodded slightly. “I appreciate that.”

  Not that it would change much. He wasn’t exactly cut out for this sort of thing – chances are it wouldn’t take the Empire longer than five minutes to pick him up. Really, this was a case of picking his poison.

  At least with the Freeholders, he had the illusion of choice, not to mention there was always the faint possibility that he would be able to figure out a way out of this situation.

  “Right then,” Harlan continued, seeing Darius was unwilling to continue their conversation. “Best get back to the briefing.”

  – – –

  The transport rattled as they hit a rough patch, sending Darius jolting against the metal bench. He winced, shifting his grip on one of the smaller crates they’d collected from a dead drop a few minutes ago.

  They were barely an hour into this supply run, and he was already sick of the cramped transport and Tarek’s scowling presence across from him. Only Corin, leaning casually against a stack of crates, seemed entirely at ease.

  In the front seat, Harlan and Lena chatted, their voices muffled but relaxed. Lena was actually humming a little tune to herself. It was surreal how calm she sounded, especially considering she’d been buzzing with excitement just hours ago. But the longer they drove, the more Darius found his own shoulders loosening. There was a strange rhythm to this, a feeling like they were just running an errand—albeit one with a very specific set of risks.

  Corin noticed him glancing at the crates and nodded with a grin. “Not as glamorous as you thought, huh?” he asked, leaning forward.

  “Definitely not,” Darius muttered. He gestured to the crates. “So, all this… ‘stuff’ in the dead drops. Where’s it coming from, exactly?”

  “Ah, the great mystery,” Corin replied, tapping a finger to his temple in mock thought. “Well, truth is, I don’t know exactly. These drops aren’t just ours; we’re part of a network—other Freeholder cells, smugglers, even some folks with connections in high places. Everyone sort of chips in.”

  “Right,” Darius said, brow furrowing. “So… nobody actually knows who leaves them? Seems a bit… haphazard.”

  Corin chuckled. “Yeah, I can see how it sounds that way. It’s not as random as it looks, though. The network works through signals and codes. Some drops are specific to certain routes, some are free for all, but they’re marked.”

  Darius glanced over at Tarek, who was looking out the back of the transport with a faint sneer, not paying them much attention. “And… these signals. You all just pick them up on the fly?”

  Corin shrugged, leaning back again. “That’s a bit above my pay grade. A lot of this stuff is in the ‘need-to-know’ category, and well, I don’t need to know it. Harlan usually gets the list of drops, knows the routes, and checks them out ahead of time. We don’t go to a drop if we think it’s been compromised.” He paused, eyeing Darius with a grin. “Think of it as a scavenger hunt, but, you know, with slightly higher stakes.”

  “Seems like there’d be easier ways to get supplies,” Darius mused, not entirely buying into the covert glamour of it all.

  “You’re thinking like a civilian,” Corin said with a wry smile. “The Empire is good at keeping track of certain resources, and our best defence is being undetected. Some stuff we can just pick up at a store like anyone else, but things like medical supplies? Ammunition? All monitored and tracked. Even large purchases of food or water are sometimes looked into, so we have to be careful.”

  “I’ve actually been meaning to ask about that,” Darius said before hesitating for a moment. “Like, no offence or anything, but I’ve always heard that the Freeholders were nothing more than a nuisance. But, well, it seems like you guys are pretty organised, with the dead drops and guns and stuff…”

  “Are you really that stupid?” Tarek cut in with a disdainful scowl. “Of course, the Empire isn’t going to tell people about its failures. Wouldn’t want anyone else getting ideas, after all.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t put it so… confrontationally,” Corin winced, “But he’s not wrong.”

  Before Darius could process the comment or fire back, Lena’s voice rang out from the front, tense and clipped.

  “Hey, heads up back there! We’re pulling out.”

  Darius exchanged a quick look with Corin, who immediately pushed off the crates and peered toward the front. “What’s going on?” he called out.

  “Imperial patrol,” Harlan responded, his voice low but steady. “We’ve spotted a few vehicles up ahead. Don’t want to risk getting too close, so we’re turning back now. Everybody, keep your heads down, and make sure your gear is stowed.”

  Darius braced himself as the transport lurched into motion, turning down a side street.

  “Better get that out of sight,” Corin said, aiming a pointed look at Tarek, who was still fiddling with his rifle. “Don’t want them spotting it through a window.”

  With a roll of his eyes, Tarek begrudgingly tucked his weapon haphazardly between some crates and the wall, hidden from casual inspection but still in easy reach. Darius nervously palmed the grip of his own pistol, tucked into his waistband at the small of his back.

  Harlan muttered a curse from the driver’s seat, and when Darius peered through the front windscreen, he saw another Imperial patrol blocking the street, checking pedestrians and vehicles. Lena flicked at the dataslate in her hands for a moment before shaking her head.

  “No detours between here and there. We could try turning around, but…”

  “That would attract more attention,” Harlan finished. “Everyone stay calm. Keep quiet and let me do the talking.” He cast a glance over his shoulder. “If things go south, be ready – there’s no way this old thing will bust through that roadblock, so we’ll have to turn around. Be ready to give us some covering fire to dissuade pursuit.”

  Darius was getting a little wide-eyed at this point, but Corin was perfectly calm, and Tarek even had an eager gleam in his eyes. He watched as the two of them started shuffling crates around, forming a low barrier between them and the back of the vehicle.

  “What’s that for?” Darius asked, mouth dry.

  “Gives us cover,” Tarek answered shortly, ironically less confrontational now that there was a confrontation looming. “If we have to make a run for it, chances are they’ll be shooting. We can hide behind this and shoot back.”

  {I do not believe these crates will provide sufficient protection from projectile weaponry.} Echo said, jolting Darius out of his stunned silence. For once, his passenger’s voice was more comforting than annoying, giving him something to focus on.

  Corin shrugged as Darius relayed Echo’s sentiment. “Sure, these won’t stop a bullet,” he said with a worrying amount of nonchalance. “But it won’t hurt, either, and ducking behind any kind of cover will make it harder for them to know where to aim.”

  Darius tried to ignore the knot of anxiety twisting in his gut, focusing instead on adjusting the crate in front of him to match Corin’s makeshift barricade. The transport slowed, and through the small gap toward the front, he saw the flicker of Imperial uniforms at the roadblock up ahead. His fingers brushed against the cold metal of the pistol at his back, more for reassurance than anything. He had no idea if he’d even be able to pull the trigger if it came to it.

  Harlan rolled down his window as they approached the roadblock, putting on the face of a driver slightly irritated by the inconvenience but not concerned enough to be suspicious. Darius watched as an Imperial officer stepped up, leaning against the window with a clipboard.

  “Routine inspection, nothing to worry about,” the officer said, his tone as flat and detached as Darius expected. “What’s your business here?”

  “My daughter’s moving out,” Harlan answered smoothly, gesturing to Lena in the seat beside him. The sudden shift from ‘gruff squad leader’ to ‘doting-but-beleaguered father’ took Darius off guard. “Giving her a hand to shift some last odds and ends.”

  The officer glanced at Lena, who gave him a polite but disinterested smile, tapping at the dataslate in her lap as if she’d already lost interest in the conversation. Harlan rolled his eyes companionably at the officer, who snorted in amusement.

  “Won’t take too much of your time then. Just pop open the back for us, and we’ll do a quick check.”

  Harlan nodded agreeably and thumbed the control that unlocked the back doors to the cargo area. Darius’s pulse spiked as the guards stepped around to the rear of the transport, reaching for the latch. Corin caught his eye and gave a subtle nod, shifting his weight to appear relaxed. Tarek, meanwhile, leaned back and let out an exaggerated yawn, rubbing his eyes in a way that conveniently shielded his face just as the doors swung open.

  One of the guards raised a flashlight, sweeping the beam over the stacked crates and landing on Corin, who looked every bit the picture of casual indifference, his eyes half-lidded as if bored by the interruption. The flashlight continued over to Tarek, who had resumed scratching his nose, his face partially obscured. Both guards seemed satisfied, moving on without a second glance.

  But then the light hit Darius, lingering for a beat too long. He froze, his attempt at a neutral expression faltering as one of the guards narrowed his eyes, studying him with a spark of recognition.

  “Hold up,” the guard said, voice sharp. He turned to his partner, pulling a small data pad from his belt and bringing up an image. The guard’s gaze flicked from the pad to Darius and back, his frown deepening.

  Darius felt a chill run down his spine, his heart pounding so hard he was sure they’d be able to hear it. He cast a quick, desperate glance at Corin, who raised an eyebrow in an attempt at an encouraging look that fell flat.

  The guard’s next words were predictably not what Darius was hoping for. “Sir! You might want to have a look at this – got a possible match here.”

  “Oh well,” Tarek sighed in faux disappointment, letting his hand fall from where it had been covering his face.

  Harlan’s jaw clenched before smoothing out. “You might want to hold on to something back there,” he called over his shoulder calmly.

  Darius had just enough time to see the puzzled expression on the officer’s face before Harlan floored it.

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