The Time Voyager's Obsession

Jurisdiction - I

     It took hours for Hana to recover from the effects of the Ultrasonic Frequency Emitters. The pain ebbed and flowed, playing over her battered body like a musical instrument. Her hands and feet twitched with involuntary impulses, plucking at her fraught nerves without warning. She lay on the floor stiffly, her eyes clenched shut, blocking out the creatures that surrounded her. She was glad for the silence, glad that she could retreat to a space that was all her own.

      In time, her body stilled, the convulsions fading away along with the confines of her cell. She lay on a blank plane, nothing above or beneath her, nothing to her right or to her left. Infinite blackness stretched out into infinity. She blinked and the darkness expanded, a galactic map of starlight unfolding above her. Hana was cleansed of her fear, transcending to a higher state of consciousness where her mind was invulnerable to such base emotions. She was moving forward with great speed, or perhaps it was the universe that swirled around her. Stars and systems formed and collapsed before her eyes, suspended in an endless cycle of energy that could never be unmade, only transformed. 

     Amidst the awe-inspiring chaos, she saw it- a gaping mouth, swallowing up the blackness. There was no light in which to see it, only the absence of light altogether. It hummed with energy, calling out to her across space and time and dimension. She rushed towards it, unable to still the constant motion, the lapse of time, the flow and heartbeat of the universe. 

     Hana jolted up, her brow covered in a cold sweat. Her heart was thundering in her chest, and for a moment, she confused the darkness of her cell with that of the singularity from her vision. Had it been a vision at all, or only a dream? Hana could not say for sure, but the vivid patterns of the heavens were as real to her as if she had seen them with her own eyes. She ran a hand over her damp clothes, the fabric clinging to her skin with a moist layer of sweat. There was no way of telling how long she had been unconscious, or perhaps she had only been sleeping. Time had passed in a blur for her, the trauma she had experienced, a distant memory. 

     Something felt wrong to her. Her thoughts were collected, if admittedly detached. Only hours earlier, she had been in fear for her life, a victim of the Warden’s cruel abuse. Yet the vision had filled her with an eerie sense of calm. That, in and of itself, was a reason to be wary. The black hole had been terrifying in its power, and yet strangely familiar. 

     Hana felt an odd sense of regret, wishing that she might have remained asleep long enough to see what was awaiting her on the other side. She pushed the childish notion from her mind. It was only self-preservation, a simple trick of dissociation, protecting her fragile thoughts from those of the torture she had just endured. She needed to focus if she wanted to survive. Mala Fide was no place for wishes and daydreams. 

     Hauling herself up from the floor, she shuffled forward blindly in the darkness. Her foot caught suddenly on the edge of the drainage hole, unbalancing her. She fell, sprawling out awkwardly on the floor. Cursing her own clumsiness, Hana rocked back onto her knees, tracing the raw scrapes ingrained into her palms. A sudden burst of air traveled up from the drain ruffling the hair about her face. She jumped back in shock, the hole hissing like steam through a kettle just before it boiled. 

     “Hana,” her name caressed her unwilling ears. She recoiled from it, scrambling backward in a sudden panic. What had the UF emitters done to her? Was she losing her mind in this place? “Hana… hear me?” the air whispered with a soft whoosh. Tentatively, Hana inched closer. She leaned down until her ear was nearly resting against the opening. “Pipes… sound travels,” the voice called to her. 

      “Var?” she called back doubtfully. He was the only one who knew her name within the prison walls, other than the Warden and his men. Surely, even he was not sadistic enough to resort to tormenting her through the pipes. 

     “You… my name!” his disembodied voice floated up to her as though coming from the bottom of a well. “Remember?” 

     “Guard told me,” she called, hoping that her shortened bits of speech were reaching his waiting ears. She paused to listen but heard no reply.

     “I’m sorry,” Hana called desperately, “please stay. Talk to me.” A few short hours ago, she had thought the man might be insane, but so much had come to pass since then. Var had been right after all; she did need a friend in this place. 

     “I’m here, Hana,” he answered, his voice amplified, “Better?”

     “Yes!” Hana said, unable to keep the smile from her lips. “Yes, that’s better!”

     “You alright? Worried earlier... the screams,” he added, the last word sending a shiver down her spine. 

     “I’m alright,” she returned. Hana's eyes surveyed the perimeter of her cell. Nothing but blackness lay before her, yet she knew what lurked behind its calming shroud. “The others, can they hear?” she called down softly.  

     “Not sure, only hear you,” Var called back, “Pipes run North, parallel... camp to camp... Broken up by valves... You and me, I think.”

     Hana nodded from habit. “You alright?” she called back. 

     The last time she had seen him, his poor hands had been a ruin. She wanted to ask him more about the woman he called Tahlia, but the pipes seemed like a poor way to broach the subject. Hana did not want to upset him and lose her only connection beyond block F.

     His laugh traveled up to her, and the sound jarred some distant recollection, buried deep within her subconscious. Hana could almost place her finger on it, but the moment passed, eluding her. “Yes, fine... only foolish… the Warden? He hurt you?”

     “UF emitters,” Hana conceded.

     “Damn bloody bastard!” Var cursed vehemently. 

     Hana found the sentiment oddly tender. Even in an environment so harsh and terrifying, she had found someone who cared about her wellbeing, though admittedly she could not provide any insight as to why. The man was a criminal, and likely mad, but was Hana so different from him? With each passing moment, her sanity seemed to cross a blurred line, the threads of her reality snapping one by one. Talking with another human being made her feel tethered, connected to something beyond herself.

     “I don’t know what he’s going to do to me,” Hana confided in a hoarse whisper, feeling somewhat better having aired the fear. 

     Whatever happened to her was out of her control, and that was what truly terrified her. Every part of her past life had been ordered, a system of absolutes based on scientific calculation, learned history, and repetition. Mala Fide was different, dangerous, and unpredictable despite its rigidity. It was the opposite of everything she had ever known. 

     “Nothing,” Var said emphatically, “I won’t let him.”

     Hana laughed, the sound reverberating strangely off the walls of her cell. Laughter was not at home within the prison of Mala Fide. “I’m sorry,” Hana called, clasping a hand over her mouth, “I don’t mean to laugh, it's only that you’re as stuck as I am. You couldn’t help yourself, much less me.”

     “Don’t be sorry. I like the sound… your laughter,” his words floated up to her, as heat rose to her cheeks. 

     Hana bit her lip to keep from smiling, feeling foolish. She should still be huddled in a ball, reeling from the injury she had suffered earlier. Instead, she was bent over a drain, talking to a complete stranger through pipes that anyone could be listening through. Pipes which, only hours earlier, had carried away the remains of the last occupant of cell D14. Yet, Hana allowed herself the small comfort, all the same. She would find precious little to smile about in such a place. 

     “I promise you...have a plan to keep you safe... should try and sleep while you can...You’ve had a long day...Talk more tomorrow, if you like,” Var called down to her when she did not answer. 

     Hana felt a wave of sadness wash over her. She wished their conversation could last a while longer, but she also knew the improbability of his words. At best he was well-intentioned, but still as trapped as she, a welcome distraction but an ineffectual one. At worst, he was delusional, suffering from psychosis or some other mental deficiency. Despite her doubts, Hana kept her thoughts to herself, grateful for the momentary reprieve from her isolation. 

     “I’d like that. Goodnight,” she replied simply, hoisting herself up from the floor. 

     She fumbled through the darkness, searching for her bed once more. Hana breathed a sigh of relief when her leg bumped against the bunk’s rigid edge. She curled up on her makeshift mattress, fluffing up the duffle as best she could. Hana hoped that sleep would take her quickly, transporting her away from the cell and back to the astral dream plane she had experienced earlier. 

     Instead, she tossed and turned upon the hard bunk, caught somewhere between waking and sleeping. No matter which way she lay, the steely surface only brought her discomfort, a constant reminder of her foreign surroundings. What little sleep she did manage to find was fitful, riddled with nightmares and strange memories that seemed like they were from another mind altogether. She had only just managed to drift off when bright light poured into her cell. 

      “Rise and shine, Dari. Time for your first shift.” 

     The Bioscreen’s blackout mode had dropped away to reveal Benson’s unsmiling countenance, backlit by a haze of fluorescent lighting. Hana rubbed at her tired eyes, the lids stinging from lack of sleep. With a great deal of effort, she hoisted herself up on the bench. Her limbs still trembled from the lingering effects of the UF emitters, nerve endings firing like live wires. 

     Hana feared her legs might not support her weight if she tried to stand, and she desperately hoped that her shift would be spent performing some menial task within the camp. Given the state of her battered body, the ice mines would be a death sentence.  

     Beyond her cell, Benson punched a code into the security panel and a small service hatch dropped down from one of the double doors. He pushed a vacuum-sealed bag through the opening, letting it drop to the floor. “Put those on. You’ve been awarded mess hall privileges for now, but another stunt like that with the Warden and you’ll be on a diet of saltine crackers, understand? You have ten minutes to eat whatever slop they put on your tray, and then you’re on the next shuttle to the mines.” 

    Hana winced, her worst fears having been confirmed. Mala Fide promised to deal her a brutal initiation. 

     The private glanced down the cellblock hesitantly before dropping his voice to a hoarse whisper. “You should have a spare set of clothes in that duffle. Put them on over the ones you’re wearing. Layers can be the difference between life and death in the mines. You freeze in there, they’ll leave you where you fall. Just a word to the wise.” 

     He eyed the hall again before gesturing to her bag with the muzzle of his gun. “What are you waiting for? Go! Get them out and get dressed.”

     Turning quickly to her duffle, Hana sifted through the scant contents until she located a spare uniform. Following Benson’s instructions, she shrugged into the thin cotton garments, pulling them down to cover the ones she already wore. Then, she walked to the door and retrieved the package that had been deposited through the slot.

     “Everything goes on. Facemask, utility gloves, wool socks, and TundraTex Polar suit. You won’t be coming back to F block until the end of the day shift. Forget something and that’s your loss. When you’re done, put your hands through the slot for your cuffs.”

     Hana nodded, ripping open the sealed bag to free the gear inside. “There aren’t any boots. Am I expected to mine ice in my slippers?”  

     Benson’s face remained as stoic as ever. “Boots aren’t enough. Your footwear will be provided for you on the shuttle. No more chit-chat. Hurry it up. You miss a shuttle, you pull a double shift.”

     Shooting the private a glare, Hana stepped into the polar suit, zipping it up to her neck before loosely latching the wrist straps. She stretched the mask on over her head, bundling her thick mane into a knot before tucking it beneath the heavy knit ply. Pulling down the face opening, Hana tucked it under her chin so that she could eat and breathe freely. Lastly, she shoved her gloves into the deep side pockets at her hips and walked to the door. 

     “Pull up your sleeve so I can scan your barcode and insert both wrists through the service hatch.”

     Already she was becoming accustomed to the prison’s ordered routine. Scan the barcode, go into the cell. Scan the barcode, go out of the cell. It was predictable, but there was safety in that. After the torture Hana had faced at the hands of the Warden, safety was welcome, no matter how mundane. 

     The scanner let out a shrill beep as biomagnetic cuffs were fitted to her wrists. They continued to tighten until both of her hands were facing each other with no wiggle room between them. Hana hoped that Benson had been joking about the slop. Her binding would bar her from eating anything more complex than bread, and her stomach was already complaining with hunger. She hadn’t eaten anything in close to twenty-four hours.

     “Remember, citizen, no sudden moves and two steps behind your fellow prisoners at all times. Eat quickly and prepare to board the shuttle. Follow me.” The doors of cell D14 slid open and Hana walked through them, trailing at the private’s heels as he led her down the winding corridors of Camp D.

     Her heart skipped with anticipation as they neared Var’s cellblock. Sure enough, he was there waiting by the glass, his hands resting casually on his knees. When he caught sight of Hana, the man scrambled quickly to his feet. She didn’t know whether to feel flattered or unnerved. 

    “Eyes straight ahead, Var!” Benson snapped into his wrist intercom, noting the man’s peaked interest. 

     “Not on your life, private,” he grinned broadly, sending a wink Hana’s way.

     Her hazel gaze dropped to the concrete floor, cheeks flaring with heat. She tucked a loose curl behind her ear, suddenly self-conscious beneath the man’s scrutiny. Shaking her head, Hana silently chided herself. To be in Camp D, Var was likely a killer- at the very least, a convicted criminal. 

     Yet, she could hardly deny the strange effect he had on her or the smile that teased at her pursed lips. From her brief study, Var seemed to be in better health than he had when she’d first arrived in Camp D. The color had returned to his pallid skin, and despite the leanness of his frame and gauntness of his cheeks, Hana found his face to be a handsome one. She devoted it to memory, tucking it away to think on later. 

     “There’s no mess hall in Camp D. Most prisoners are permanently confined to their cells. Camp C is a female ward. You’ll be using their mess hall for the foreseeable future,” Benson informed her gruffly, reaching the airlock and typing a clearance code into the data panel. 

     “Okay, thank you,” Hana replied absently, her thoughts still with Var. 

     “Don’t thank me. Ever. We are not friends, prisoner No. 312546, and I’m not doing you any favors, no matter how pretty you are. Hands where I can see them!” His gun pointed to where her fingers had dipped into the polar suit’s pockets, eyes darting around like he expected a superior officer to appear out of the ether.

     Biting back the sharp retort on her tongue, Hana lifted them slowly over her head. Why was being pretty her deficiency? She had done her best to make herself appear more unkempt. It sounded like a personal problem that the private needed to sort out on his own time.

     “Walk. Take a right up ahead. You’ll see the line to the mess hall.”

     Grudgingly, she followed Benson’s orders, stepping through the airlock and into the corridor beyond. 

     When the line to the mess hall came into view, Hana stopped in her tracks. Standing before her, was a wide array of females- one for every species within the Exeter System. She had never seen such varied lifeforms outside of the planetary fight pit matches. There were a few races she recognized, but most she did not, and all eyes were focused on her with thinly veiled hostility. A sheen of sweat broke out on Hana’s forehead. She was an outsider- and an unwelcome one at that.   

     “Ten minutes are ticking, Dari. Best get in line. Remember, two steps behind your fellow prisoners. They don’t take too kindly to getting bumped.”

     Hana approached slowly, keeping her arms raised so that the guards ahead could scan her for weapons and pat down her suit. Unlike the ones she had encountered during processing, the two policing the mess hall were not human. Squid-like tentacles sprouted from their necks- visual scanners, metal detectors, and phaser guns, all wrapped within their multitude of appendages. She tried not to grimace as their limbs made a slow pass over her curves. 

     “Cleared,” an automated voice spoke through the speech translator at the left guard’s throat. “Enter, citizen.”