The Time Voyager's Obsession

Jurisdiction- II

     As she stepped foot into the mess hall, a tray was thrust roughly into Hana’s bound hands. She nearly dropped it, only just managing to loop the lip with her thumbs before being jostled forward in line. The space was large, but overcrowded, with more inmates than available tables and benches. To Hana’s disgust, most stood pressed to the wall, gobbling down their food like animals. Benson hadn’t been wrong about Mala Fide’s prison fare. Slop, was putting it kindly, judging by the brown liquid her fellow prisoners were slurping up through cupped hands.  

     With low expectations, Hana made her way up in line, eyeing her wool slippers as they slowly shuffled across the tiled floor. There were no windows in the room to occupy her attention, and after the private’s warnings, she was afraid to meet anyone’s gaze. Even so, she could feel that she was being watched. 

     As she reached the front, a putrid smell wafted up to Hana’s nose. She gagged, hiding away her revulsion in the crook of her arm. 

     “Prisoner number?” A line worker, the same species as the guards, was standing before a boiling cauldron, a ladle held in each of her many tentacles. 

     “I’m- I’m sorry. I’m new here and I don’t remember-” Hana began, trying to recover herself.

     A static hiss rattled up from the woman’s translator box. “Always remember your prisoner number,” the automated voice croaked. “I don’t have all day.” 

     Lifting a long, tuberous arm from behind the counter, she held a scanner up to Hana’s temple. Its red light flashed and the alien began to spoon something out from the pot.  

     “Prisoner No. 312546, classified as human. Sustenance will be delivered in the form of bone broth. Hold up your tray.”

     Hana lifted it as far as the biomagnetic cuffs would allow her to extend, wincing when some of the scalding liquid splattered onto her hands. With an awkward nod, she shuffled away, looking for somewhere that she could eat in peace. To her expressed relief, the sour smell had not come from the contents on her tray. Finally, she settled on a small alcove across the room, skirting around tables and huddled bodies as she made her way toward the coveted space. Before she could reach it, a bench slid out in front of her, blocking her way.  

     “Sorry, excuse me,” she mumbled, taking a step backward. 

    “No worries. Here, sit with us. We can fit one more.” For the first time, Hana risked making eye contact. The girl standing in the aisle appeared to be human, along with the rest of the women at the table. She grinned widely and arched a narrow brow. 

     “You must be new here. Haven’t seen you around before. The name’s Kember. This is Jinx, Meryl, and Braelynn.” She pointed to each girl in turn. “Go on, sit. Move over, Jinx. Let her scoot in. Us humans, we have to stick together in a place like this.”

    “Thank you,” Hana greeted them warily, sliding her tray down into the open space. She made herself as small as possible, struggling not to bump shoulders with anyone. 

     “So, what’s your name? Where are you from?” Kember asked conversationally, plopping back down on the bench and slurping up her broth with vigor. 

     “Hana. I’m from here. The Eastern Borough.” Encouraged that the others were eating, she cupped her mug between her tethered hands and leaned in. The steaming liquid burned her tongue as it went down, but the flavor was tolerable. She drank it as quickly as she could manage, knowing that her time was short and that she would not be fed again for many hours. 

     “A borough girl, huh? Don’t meet too many of your type in the ice mines. What’d you do?”  

     Hana’s eyes cut sideways. “I guess I pissed off the wrong people.”

    “Well, don’t we all, borough girl? Don’t we all.” 

     An alarm blared overhead, making Hana choke on her broth. Kember and the others exchanged knowing glances as currents of laughter rippled around the table at her expense

     “Shuttle 1 will be departing in five minutes. Wave 1, please report to the loading dock for imminent departure. Repeat Shuttle 1 will be departing in five minutes. Please deposit all food in the nearest trash receptacle.”

     “I guess that’s me,” Hana sighed, wiping her mouth on her sleeve and rising to her feet. 

     “Us, too.” Kember followed suit, the sounds of clanking trays and cups echoing around the emptying cafeteria. “First wave always gets dibs at the mess hall. Everyone else just gets whatever's left. See you on the shuttle, I guess. Good luck in the mines, borough girl. You’re going to need it.”

     Hana’s brow furrowed, noting the malice in the girl’s tone, but she shrugged it off. She had not come to Mala Fide to make friends. All that mattered was surviving her time within the prison and going back home. 

     Home. The word felt empty, devoid of the memories that had once lent it warmth. What kind of life would await her in the Eastern Borough, living beneath Filo’s thumb? Would Rus even allow her to return to her humble dwelling? She rather doubted it. Given the powerful channels he traversed, her modest apartment had likely been auctioned off at the first opportunity. With no earthly possessions to her name and only a scant inheritance to live off of, where would she go? What would she do? 

     There was little time to consider it as Hana joined the throng of inmates exiting the mess hall. She followed along with nervous anticipation, the ‘two step rule’ soon forgotten as the first wave began to mount the wide stairs to the loading bay. Bodies pressed in around her, blocking her in on all sides. 

     She was being inundated by a litany of new sounds, sights, and smells- most of them far from good. Bright lights pained her eyes and a steady ache mounted in her left temple. Just what I need, Hana reflected wearily, a migraine.

     “First wave now boarding. Please deposit all food in the nearest trash receptacle. For your own safety, stay behind the yellow line at all times. Shuttle countdown commencing.”

     Hana’s eyes flitted up to the time clock suspended from the vaulted ceiling of the terminal. Its bright red characters flashed as prisoners piled onto the waiting train cars.  

     “Keep the line moving. Take the first available seat on your right and strap in. A guard will be by to check your restraints. Keep moving, no lagging. Take the first available seat on your right and strap in. A guard will be by to check your restraints.” Attendants stood before each car, ushering in passengers until the cabs were filled. Then, one by one, the shuttle doors closed.

     By the time Hana boarded, her stomach was in knots and the time clock had long run down to zero. Warning calls had been issued several times and more than one fight had broken out further down the track. She looked around the shuttle’s crowded interior with uncertainty. All along the rows, inmates were strapped into harnesses, their feet sealed inside heavily insulated space boots that appeared to be secured to the floor. 

     “Move, borough girl. You heard them. Strap in,” a voice hissed in her ear. 

     She recognized it as Kember’s and kept moving without turning around. Taking the first seat on the right, Hana leaned back into the harness and slid her slippered feet into the floor restraints. An attendant followed behind her, buckling the harness to her chest and fastening the boot cuffs around her ankles and calves. Her heart and head pounded, blood rushing to her ears. She had never been bothered by claustrophobia before but packed into the shuttle like a sardine in a can, sweat began to bead on Hana’s brow. 

     It almost came as a relief when the car began to sway steadily from side to side, its motion intensifying to a jaw-rattling wobble as the shuttle picked up speed along the tracks. 

     There were no windows for Hana to glimpse the outside world, only a skylight that had long frosted over with ice. No light permeated through the barrier, and Hana doubted that there would be any within the mines, either. They were too far down in the abyss, outsiders in a hidden world where life was not meant to exist. 

     Shuddering from the cold and a growing sense of foreboding, Hana reached into her pockets to retrieve the utility gloves Benson had brought her. Her eyes widened with panic as her fingers met with the lining of her suit. They were not inside. Her gloves were gone. 

     “Hey, Borough girl! Looking for these?” Hana swiveled in her harness, meeting with the cold, predatory eyes of Kember. In the row beside her, the rest of her posse leered. “First rule of the mines, never take off your gloves. Ever.” Holding up Hana’s missing pair, she slipped the gloves over her own, wriggling her fingers gleefully. “We’re taking bets on how long it takes for your hands to fall off. I’m going with ten minutes- tops.”

     With mounting terror, Hana turned to face forward, her eyes staring blankly ahead. She could yell, scream, or threaten, but logic told her that it would only waste precious energy. There was no one at Mala Fide who would be of help to her. Any one of her fellow inmates would have dealt her the same blow if given the opportunity. Kember had only been the first to strike. She was going to be sacrificed to the elements like a bloody offering.

     She spent the rest of the journey in silent prayer, the jeers and taunts of the girls behind her, fading to background noise. Hana didn’t know who she was pleading with, or why they would act on her behalf, but she had nothing left to cling to. Without divine intervention, she was sure to lose both of her hands. Or, even worse, freeze within the mines. 

     Within minutes, the car lurched to a stop, brakes squealing against the tracks. A flood of attendants entered the cab, unlatching harnesses and releasing the weighted boots from the floor. With her soles free, Hana could see that her ankles were bound by metal shackles, only permitting minimal movement. A sharp, metal spike plate was attached to each bottom, traction for the slippery ice sheets that awaited her in the mines. 

     When the shuttle doors opened, Hana shuffled off in a daze, hardly hearing the blaring intercom that demanded she walk forward. Approaching the first check station, she held out her wrists as the inmate before her had, going through the motions with robotic detachment. 

     “Lovely hands,” the guard muttered behind his visor shield, removing the biomagnetic cuffs that bound them together. “A shame, really. Move ahead.”

     The next guard in line handed her a blunt pick, sparing her his pity as he directed her toward a suspension bridge that stretched out over the ice fields. Hana’s fingertips had already gone numb with cold and her palms ached where her exposed skin met with the metal handle. With each step, the reality of her fate sank in. 

     “You freeze in there, they’ll leave you where you fall,” the private had warned. 

     As she approached the gaping mouth of the mine, illuminated by spotlight and bordered by a sheer wall of ice, Hana could see the stark truth with her very own eyes. Bodies were piled high against the walls, up to ten deep in some places. Men, women, and children, it made no difference. All lay together in icy blue slumber, most stripped of their suits, boots, and gloves. She closed her eyes, blocking out the sight of her impending doom. 

     “Tahlia? Tahlia!” A familiar voice called to her back, heavy footsteps crunching against the frosted layer of concrete. 

     “My name is Hana, Var,” she spoke quietly, her gaze locked on the morbid scene before them. “Hana Dari.”

     “Yes, yes, of course...Hana. How could I ever forget…” The smile slid from his lips as he reached her, eyes dropping to the sight of her bare hands. “Where are your gloves? You can’t- you can’t be out here without them. Where are they?” He turned in a circle, scanning the ground as if they had only just slipped from her grasp. 

     “They’re gone. Someone stole them.”

     “Stole them?” His voice dropped, the threat of violence in his tone. “Who? Who stole them from you?” 

     “Does it matter?” Hana countered, unable to muster enough strength to care. “They’re gone now, by my own stupidity. I might as well climb on top of that pile.”

     Var’s gaze followed her own, coming to rest on the corpses lining the mine. “No, no, no. It isn’t so bad as that,” he shook his head. “You’ll be all right. Here, let me see.” 

     Taking the pick from her hand, he set it on the ground next to his own and shed his gloves. “There, that’s better, isn’t it? Starting to warm up, aren't you?” The warmth of his hands heated her own as he rubbed them between his palms. Hana blinked in surprise as he raised her raw fingertips to his lips and blew warm air over them. The man was all but a stranger to her, but his empathy struck her from her stupor.

     Realizing she was staring, she nodded her head vigorously. “Y-yes, much better. Thank you.” 

     Var’s steely blue eyes lifted, the smile returning to his lips. He really was handsome in a rugged sort of way. Under different circumstances…

     “You two! No fraternizing! Into the mines! Go!” a guard shouted from a mounted parapet. Lifting his gun, he fixed them within its scope. 

     “Come on. Put these on as you walk,” Var instructed, handing Hana his gloves as he bent to retrieve their picks. 

     “I-I can’t,” she refused with dismay. “Your hands will freeze. Here, take them back. Please.”

     “I’ll be fine. There are gloves to be found if you know where to look.” He nodded to the scavenged bodies with a resigned expression. “Go ahead, Hana Dari. Don’t worry about me. I’ll catch up with you inside. Stay close to the entrance and I’ll find you.” His lips twisted at the corners wryly. “I always find you.” 

     She watched Var’s back shuffle alongside the line of remains until the rising fog obscured him from view. He was a strange man, but Hana felt herself growing oddly attached. Even if he was delusional, she would have been lost without his aid. Perhaps, she had been wrong to survive such a place by pure willpower alone. Perhaps, what she needed most, was a friend.