Souvenirs From Dead Worlds

Seba could barely see the stairs in front of him as he pushed himself back against the wall, breathing heavily into the darkness. Had the guard seen him go down here? Had the guard followed Kias and Sam? Would the guard be there if Seba went back up the stairs?

Seba had panicked and Seba had run, and in that moment the concealing blackness of the stairwell had been the closest place to hide. Of course, he was now essentially trapped.

There were three options. Seba could go up the stairs, Seba could go down the stairs, or Seba could stay where he was. He immediately dismissed the idea of staying put. That would certainly lead to capture sooner or later.

He could go upstairs, but the image of that guard with his sword drawn was fresh in his mind. Seba wasn't a terribly skilled fighter and these weren't people known for their mercy.

Down was a complete unknown which, stupidly, sounded more appealing. He certainly had some ideas of the kinds of things that went on down there — he'd heard rumours. The guards were famous for entertaining themselves by mistreating prisoners. He hoped not to get caught. He may not have been good at fighting, but he did quite well at going unnoticed.

If Seba could find Sam's friends and help them escape their cells, he would at least not be alone down there. If he could get them all the way up the stairs again without getting caught they might even be able to overpower the guard. Sam had admitted he wasn’t a merchant, and it was likely his friends weren’t anything so unexceptional either. Whatever they were, wherever they had come from, and whatever secrets they held, Seba just hoped they knew how to fight.

Every sound echoed loudly in the stairwell, so Seba did his best to make none. That Sam hadn't given him the chance to put shoes on was actually an advantage in this, as bare feet treaded more quietly than any shoes. Not that he was particularly grateful for it — running down a paved street with bare feet had been rather uncomfortable. The soles of Seba’s feet still felt raw. As distasteful as life with Kalem had been, it had left him soft and pampered. Physically, anyway.

The stairwell was near complete dark, making it extremely difficult to walk down the stairs silently while also managing not to fall down them. Seba ran his hand along the wall for support and took each step with care. Then there was a loud crash from the top of the stairs and Seba reflexively pressed himself against the wall, doing his best to hide himself further in the already concealing darkness.

The guard was definitely in the room at the top of the stairs now, and he did not sound happy. Seba kept his ear out for any sounds that might indicate that Sam or Kias had been caught, but there were no voices, no sounds of a struggle. Seba wasn't sure exactly what the guard was doing, but the clanging suggested he was hitting his sword against something hard repeatedly. Probably the desk. Seba had noted earlier that it had several notches along the edge and the legs. They were possibly the result of similar temper tantrums.

The loud clunking of the sword hitting wood over and over provided Seba with both an incentive to increase his distance from the angry guard and the noise to cover any sounds he might make as he rushed down the stairs. Relying on his sense of vision to help him down the stairs was useless to Seba at that point, so instead he shut his eyes and navigated the steps by feel. They were in good condition and were evenly spaced, so Seba found that if he stopped focussing on his inability to see, making his way down them wasn't so very difficult. Still, when he reached the bottom he let out a sigh of relief.

The corridor before Seba was long and narrow, and Seba could see light coming from around the corner at the end of it. Light seemed only to be used here when there were people around to enjoy it, so Seba reverted back to his slow, cautious pace as he made his way down the corridor and approached the corner.

#

After losing the guard, Sam and Kias had quietly snuck back towards the prison and climbed onto the roof of the building across the street. Sam had been surprised to find Kias didn't need as much help with climbing as he'd expected. Although Kias lacked the upper body strength that made Sam a fast climber, he had skill that could only have come from experience as well as a good sense of balance.

They were laying on their stomachs on the roof, eyes on the entrance to the prison as they whispered ideas back and forth between them, when Sam heard a quiet thunk behind them.

Apparently Kias heard it too, because before Sam could do much more then push himself up and look behind them Kias had already shoved himself up, spun around and crouched, ready to strike. Sam just managed to grab the back of Kias' shirt before he was able to kick Diego off the roof.

"Hey," was all Sam could think of to say as Kias fell back with a quiet 'oof'.

Diego didn't speak until they'd all moved away from the edge of the roof, crouched together far enough back that nobody would be able to see them from the street.

"You're Kias, aren't you?" Diego asked Kias. Kias stared at him blankly, then slid his eyes to Sam questioningly.

"Yes, he is," Sam answered for Kias. "He doesn't speak much of our language."

"Ah," said Diego with a nod. "I thought you might have taught him more by now. I'd been hoping to get the opportunity to speak with him." He shrugged. "Nevermind."

"I notice you're up here and not presently imprisoned," Sam said, and Diego nodded. "The others?"

"Less fortunate. We were eating together and I got cold, so I went to fetch my jacket. I came back to see the rest of my team being arrested, so I left through the back way before they could connect us and arrest me too."

"Any idea why they were arrested?" Sam asked. Kias had leant himself against Sam's shoulder and Sam gave up on crouching and instead sat down, wrapping his arm around Kias' waist. Diego's gaze lingered on Sam's hand on Kias' waist, but he didn't comment.

"I had no idea at first," Diego said, focussing his eyes back on Sam's face. "After a bit of investigation, however, I found out that it had a lot to do with Tristan's tendency towards cultural exploration via his penis."

Sam couldn't help but laugh at Diego saying 'penis', and then felt immediately immature. He coughed in a poor attempt to cover it up, though Diego didn't appear to have found Sam's response too bothersome. His expression remained mostly neutral. Sam always felt like he should be trying to impress Diego, but one of the reasons Sam liked him so much was that the guy was so non-judgemental.

"So did they arrest him just for slutting up their city, or was there something specific?"

"We went to the party and he made friends with the hostess," Diego explained. "I don't think he knew she was the hostess, and he certainly didn't know she was married or that she was only being so friendly to get back at her husband. And he definitely, definitely didn't know she planned to tell her husband about it."

"I can see how that might be a problem," Sam said, and then turned to Kias to translate. "Tristan fucked the wrong girl and her husband got angry and had them arrested."

Kias made a sound of acknowledgement and cuddled closer to Sam. It was colder here at night. "What's the punishment for that?" Kias asked.

"Good question," Sam said, and then translated it for Diego.

Diego earned even more of Sam's respect when he directed his response at Kias, using Sam as a translator, instead of cutting Kias out of the conversation. "I don't know what their punishment will be exactly, but from what I've heard of their criminal system I'd rather not find out. This city was a poor choice to assign a team to."

Sam agreed with that. Usually, the places their visited were chosen for being open and accepting towards foreigners and more likely to be safe. "That explains why Seba was so freaked out about being around the prison..."

"Seba?" Diego inquired.

"Oh, yeah," Sam said. "He's this kid we brought with us to translate since he knows the language around here. We don't know where he is now, but there's a good chance that when we ran out of the prison, he didn't."

"Ah," Diego said, and then asked, "Brought with you? In the shuttle?"

"Heh, yeah..." Sam said sheepishly. "I blindfolded him, but yeah... I guess he's pretty freaked out and confused about it. We really needed his help, though."

"Well, if he is down there we'll have to get him out too," Diego said decisively. "He did you a good deed, after all."

Sam pulled Kias half into his lap when Kias started shivering and rested his chin on top of Kias's head. "Yeah, I know. Though he's going to die before long anyway, so it seems like kind of a cheap gesture."

"There's a big difference between a quick death and potentially being tortured to death. I've heard the latter is what he'd be more likely to face down there."

"I know," Sam said hastily. "I wouldn't leave him down there. I just... feel shitty for leaving him at all. He's really smart. You'd like him."

Diego gave Sam a gentle smile. "I'd like to meet him," Diego said, and then his expression turned serious. "But first we have to work out how to get both he and my team out of there.”

#

Seba could be fast when he needed to be, and as he peeked cautiously around the corner he was very prepared for needing to be. The first thing Seba noticed in the room beyond was a large fireplace. The second thing he noticed was the two guards sitting in front of it, though thankfully with their backs to Seba. In fact, one of them didn't even appear to be awake.

If Seba wanted to get to the cells where Sam's friends were likely being held, he'd have to walk behind the two guards. Though the crackling of the fire would cover up some sound, Seba would have to be very careful. At least he was in no danger of casting a shadow over the guards with the fire as the only light source.

Seba squared his shoulders and reminded himself of the one certainty in all of this: if he did nothing, he would certainly be captured. He debated between tiptoeing slowly across for maximum stealth or taking a more speedy approach and running the distance as quietly as possible. Seba decided on the former.

Seba started the slow passage across the worn stone floor, alternately watching the guards' backs and paying attention to where he was placing his feet. With each step, Seba fought against the instincts within himself that told him to simply run. To run, and keep running. Seba was over half way to the entrance to the cells when one of the guards' heads lolled to the side at an angle from which he would have been able to see Seba. Would have, if his eyes had been open. Seba struggled to keep his breathing steady and quiet as he crossed the rest of the distance and slid into the shadows of the first row of cells.

Watching the guards as he'd made his way across had also involved a fair amount of more or less staring into a fire, so it took Seba's eyes a little while to adjust to the darkness. Though he would have liked to be further away from the guards, he stayed still and waited until he could see.
The first thing that became apparent was that there were no people in the cells closest to him. Seba wasn't surprised. Prisoners weren't allowed to wash and their toilets consisted of holes in the ground, so it had seemed unlikely that any prisoners would be kept so close to where the guards relaxed unless the rest of the cells were completely full up.

Once Seba felt confident enough that he could see as best as he would be able to in the darkness he began to make his way down the row of cells, keeping an eye out for Sam's friends. After he'd passed the first few cells he began to come across cells that were occupied, and a major problem with his plan immediately presented itself to him.

The only light came from the occasional dimly lit wall lantern, and they certainly didn't reveal enough to identify a person when they were all curled up in piles of blankets on the floor, usually facing away from the outside of the cell. It was the middle of the night, and everyone was asleep.
Seba didn't even have much to go on in terms of what Sam's friends would look like. He'd heard the basic description Sam had given the guard, but that told him only the gender, skin tone and hair colour of each person. Still, this wasn't a city with many foreigners, so he didn't think they would be too difficult to spot. If he was able to get a decent look at them, anyway.

The first non-sleeping prisoner Seba came across was a man chained to the wall of his cell. Seba stopped breathing and froze as the man's eyes slowly cracked open before sweeping over Seba's frightened form. Seba wasn't scared of the man, but he was worried someone chained to a wall might be less inclined to keep quiet if Seba asked. The man was shirtless and had nasty wounds down his emancipated chest, some of which looked infected. Seba doubted the man would live much longer. The man let out a long sigh and his eyes slid shut again. Seba kept walking.

Seba heard a clank from behind himself and froze, listening to the sounds that were coming from beyond the corner he had just rounded. After a few seconds he realised that the noise was the slow clunk of a guard making his way down the row Seba had just finished checking.

Probably checking on the prisoners, Seba reassured himself, and sped up. He just needed to get around the next bend before the guard rounded the one Seba had just passed, which wouldn't be difficult with how slowly it sounded like the guard was progressing. It wasn't until he drew near to the next bend and heard a similar sound coming from ahead of him that Seba really started to panic.

There was very obviously no escape and the passage between the wall and the cells was narrow enough that a single grown man could easily block it if he stretched his limbs out, so Seba elected attempting to run as his last resort. There was no way Seba could fight a fully grown, armed man, so he had only one option left to him. Hide.

Hiding in the corridor would be very much impossible, so Seba crept through the door of the closest empty cell and shut the cell door behind him as quietly as possible.

The door didn't lock automatically as Seba had been hoping. When Seba was ten, he'd managed to get hold of a book with instructions on how to pick a lock. He hadn't been able to read the language it was in at the time, but the pictures had been quite informative and he had immediately set about teaching himself. These days Seba always carried with him, hidden beneath his hair, a thin metal hair slide which could be easily pulled apart for use as a makeshift lock pick if needs be. He'd never actually had cause to use his lock picking skill, but Seba believed in being prepared.

Though it hadn't locked, the door did stay more or less shut — ever so slightly more ajar than the locked cell doors, but likely not immediately obvious to anyone not paying particular attention. It would have to do. Seba went to the corner and lay down on the pile of blankets, wrapping one around himself and feigning sleep. Seba was particularly good at feigning sleep. Kalem had never been an altogether awful or pointlessly cruel man, and Seba had discovered that if he pretended to sleep Kalem would often leave him alone for the night.

Seba heard the first guard approach, clomping along slowly, and then pass the cell Seba was hiding in without pausing. One down. There was still the second guard, though, and if he noticed the cell door was unlocked or that they had one more prisoner than they were supposed to, Seba would likely not have another opportunity escape. When the two guards paused to chat Seba narrowly resisted the urge to let out a frustrated growl.

When the guards finally stopped talking and resumed their inspection, the second guard strolled towards Seba's cell even more slowly than the first had, pausing occasionally, presumably to look in on the prisoners. When the guard eventually reached Seba's cell, Seba struggled to keep his breathing slow and steady when the sound of clanking armour stopped.

Though it was probably only a few moments, the time the guard stalled in front of Seba's cell seemed as long as every other stop the guard had made combined. Ultimately, however, the clunking of armour resumed and the guard continued his slow way down the row of cells. Seba let out a sigh of relief and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting until the guard was well around the next corner before he shook the blanket off himself, pushed himself up, and exited the cell.

#

Sam braced himself on the edge of the roof and leant forward, studying the entrance to the prison and learning nothing new. He sighed and pushed himself away as he turned back to Diego.

"This assignment is pretty much scrapped anyway, at least for your team. So... going on the offensive is an option," Sam said.

Diego was leaning against the large chimney looking pensive. "I do have my gun. You have yours, I assume?" Diego asked and Sam nodded. "Does Kias have one?"

Kias looked over at the sound of his name and Diego gave him a quick smile before turning back to Sam. Despite everything, it made Sam smile too.

"No," Sam said. "I didn't have time to teach him before we left, and even if I had I don't think I would have been able to get one for him. I think they pretty much see him as an inconvenience rather than an asset." Sam paused. "They're wrong about that."

"Of course," Diego said. "I do recall years worth of lessons on the very things he's likely to know simply from having lived them. With time he'll learn the specific skills required to do the job, and then he will be at an advantage to us."

Sam nodded. He was ashamed to have ever dismissed Kias' usefulness. It wasn't the time to be worrying about that, though.

"So two guns, three of us... No, two. I won't bring Kias in there unarmed. Hmm..." Sam had begun to pace quietly on the roof. He was pretty sure there was at least nobody presently inside the building below. "We should be able to do it as long as we don't get trapped or anything. They won't know what they're up against and I don't think they have any ranged weapons. Way easier than drones, that's for sure."

When Sam glanced over, Diego was staring down at the roof and tapping nervous rhythms against the brick chimney with his fingertips. "Have you ever actually killed anyone, Sam? An actual person?"

Sam paused and after a moment deflated. "No," Sam said, and then after a moment's thought added, "and I'd really rather not."

"I've never killed anyone either," Diego admitted. "I'm fairly sure I could kill someone in self defence if I needed to, but to go in there with it as a plan... It doesn't sit well with me."

Sam let out a frustrated sigh and flopped down next to Kias, who had been curiously glancing back and forth between Sam and Diego as they spoke. Sam wrapped his arm around Kias and gave him a reassuring peck on the cheek.

Logically, killing those guards shouldn't be so morally challenging. Their days were already numbered anyway and, by merit of working as guards in a city that treated prisoners like shit, they were probably assholes. In certain areas of the mind, however, logic had no power.

#

Seba wanted to just curl up in a corner somewhere and hide, to wait for Sam to come and get him, but he didn't because even if Sam did come, it wouldn't be for Seba. Sam didn't even want Seba. Sam would probably have preferred to be rid of him, really. So Seba kept walking slowly, quietly down the row of cells. Though Seba's primary motivation for finding Sam's friends was so that they could escape together, a tiny part of him that he desperately tried to squash just wanted Sam to be pleased with him.

Hearing voices up ahead, Seba immediately paused to listen. Definitely voices, and somehow they didn't sound like guards. Seba wasn't close enough to make out words, but the accents didn't sound right. Plus one of them sounded female, and female guards simply didn't exist in this city. Seba hesitantly inched forward.

At the ridiculously slow, cautious pace Seba was going it took him a while to get close enough to make out individual words. Seba could just barely see them in the darkness of their cell a few cells away from where Seba stood pressed against the wall of the corridor. It was immediately obvious that the language the three occupants of the cell were speaking was a foreign one, but Seba didn't immediately recognise it. Then one of the men shoved the other and the one who had been shoved said something Seba did recognise. Sorry. He had apologised in Sam's language. Seba had found Sam's friends.

Seba desperately hoped Sam's friends weren't stupid enough to make enough noise to alert the guards when they saw him, but it was a gamble he'd have to take. Seba slipped out of the shadows and continued down the row towards the cell containing Sam's friends.

Their reactions might have been funny under other circumstances, three sets of wide eyes staring at him in surprise before all three of them simultaneously scrambled to their feet.

It appeared their clothes had been taken from them as the two men were wearing nothing but thin cotton shorts, with the woman being granted the same plus a sleeveless shirt made of the same dirty grey material.

Seba didn't particularly feel like lingering in the prison any longer than necessary, so once they were close enough to speak without raising their voices, the first word Seba spoke was in Sam's language. "Hello."

For the second time since Seba had encountered them just moments before, Sam's friends were staring at him with wide eyed looks of surprise. It was the woman who spoke, and when she did it was in Sam's language.

It was hard to follow someone talking to him in a language he knew so little of when they showed no consideration for his comprehension level, but after a while Seba was fairly sure she was trying to ask who had taught him to speak their language. "Sam," Seba said, still in their language. "Sam is my friend."

Seba wasn't sure 'friend' was the right word for his relationship with Sam, but he couldn't think of a suitable term for it in any language, let alone one he knew so little of. Sam had taught Seba several words for different kinds of relationships between two people, and that one was the closest he had.

The woman kept talking in their language and Seba realised they weren't going to get terribly far trying to communicate that way. "I'm sorry," Seba said in the language native to the city they were currently in, giving the woman an apologetic smile and nod. "I don't speak Sam's language terribly well. Do you understand this one?"

The woman laughed, more surprised and self conscious than amused. "Yes, sorry, I got carried away. Sam taught you that?"

She was looking at him a little too curiously, so Seba answered as honestly as he could. He didn't know what Sam doing such a thing might suggest to her. "I asked him to teach me in exchange for showing him the city. I enjoy learning new languages."

The dark skinned man cut in then, speaking to the woman in their language. His voice was deep and gruff and, now that Seba was looking at him more closely, Seba noticed the man was quite well built.

It was more the tone of the man's voice than his actual words which led Seba to interpret that he was trying to encourage the woman to hurry things along. She said something back and gave him a light shove on the shoulder before giving Seba an apologetic smile.

"Anyway, I'm Hannah and this is Nolan," she said to Seba, giving the dark skinned man another punch on the shoulder as she introduced him. "And this is our team leader, Tristan," she said, pushing the second guy forward slightly. "Uh, if the whole 'team' thing even means anything to you."

It didn't, but Seba filed it away with all the other bits and pieces he had stockpiled in his mind to try and understand everything that was happening.

Tristan was the least remarkable of the three of them, though that was likely because he didn't look a great deal unlike the people Seba had grown up around. He even reminded Seba of his older brother a little bit.

"I'm Seba." He inclined his head politely. "Nice to meet you."

"Yeah, you too," said Tristan, speaking up for the first time since Seba had interrupted them. "You don't happen to have a way out of here, do you?"

Seba chewed his lip. "Out of the cell, yes, but the prison..."

"That's okay," Tristan said, and hearing those simple words was surprisingly reassuring. "Just get us out of the cell."

Seba had braided his hair before Sam had come to fetch him, and it was from within the tight braid that he retrieved his hair clip now. He would have to break it in order to use it, but as this was the first time he'd ever truly put the skill to use, that was no hardship. He had more. If whatever events proceeded these allowed him access to those of his belongings he had left at the inn, anyway.

As Seba worked away at the lock, Sam's friends watched in suspense.

It was a harder than an average lock, as it ought to have been for its purpose, but eventually it clicked open and Sam's friends were free of the cell. Seba winced at the loud squeak the door made as they pushed it open. Yeah, that was really stealthy. Sam's friends seemed a whole lot less bothered by it than Seba was, though, and Seba wasn't sure if he should find that reassuring or disconcerting.

"Um," Seba said, and scratched the back of his neck nervously when all eyes were suddenly on him. "I think the guards won't be coming around again for a while, but there's a spot where they're gathered that cuts off the exit. I snuck past, but with four of us..."

Nolan made a dismissive sound. "I wasn't planning on sneaking," he said, then murmured something in their own language to Tristan. Tristan nodded and stepped back, allowing Nolan to lead the way.

Having a large, strong man between himself and any guards they were likely to encounter was something Seba found extremely reassuring. He wasn't sure how Nolan planned to fight them when he was unarmed and almost completely naked, but his confidence made Seba feel safe.

Though they made no attempt at stealth, it wasn't until they reached the fireplace that they encountered any guards. Five of them. The two who were there when Seba had snuck past, he assumed, plus the two who were checking on the prisoners and the one who had been upstairs. The moment Nolan stepped into the edge of the light given off by the fire, the guards noticed them.

Seba felt like running, and he might have done if Tristan hadn't taken a firm hold of his upper arm before he could move. As Nolan stepped further into the room, neither Tristan or Hannah moved to help him, even going as far as to take a step backwards, away from the fight that was about to take place.

As the first guard moved to attack him, Nolan smoothly liberated him of his sword and armed himself with it. Seba flinched and tried to back away when the second guard who attacked got the first guard's sword to his throat, but Tristan kept a powerful grip on his arm.

Seba had never seen a man killed before, but within the space of a few moments Nolan took out all five of the guards in front of his eyes. The realisation that Seba had been the one to let Sam's friends out of the cell, and therefore at least partly responsible for the slaughter, briefly occurred to Seba before he immediately pushed the thought away. He'd likely spend a long time thinking about that later, whether he wanted to or not, but for right then there were more important things to focus on.

Nolan was covered in blood by the time he'd finished, none of it his own. Seba tried to avoid stepping in the pools of it as Tristan quickly led him past the bodies and towards the corridor towards the stairs, but he was unsuccessful. It didn't occur to Seba that the blood would still be warm until his bare foot landed in it as they passed.

Seba hoped Sam would still be around when they exited the prison, because he wasn't sure what Sam's friends would do with him if Sam wasn't. Presumably not just leave Seba after he'd helped them escape. Though Tristan's grip was unnecessarily firm, the very fact that he cared that Seba might run off was comforting. Hopefully that emotion wasn't misplaced.

Once they were upstairs, into the room Seba had first entered with Sam, Tristan released Seba's arm and corralled him towards the ornate wooden chest located near the entrance to the stairwell. "Can you pick the lock on that?"

"Yes," Seba said, feeling as though he should tack some kind of honorific onto the end, but he didn't even know what would be appropriate. Tristan was their ‘team leader’, they had said, but Seba still wasn’t sure what that meant. The only thing he was sure of was that it had nothing to do with merchants.

The lock clicked open and Seba realised he'd gone through the motions of unlocking it while his mind was elsewhere. Seba stepped away from the chest silently to allow Tristan access.

Their clothes didn't seem to be in the chest, but Tristan did pull out some other items which he distributed amongst his friends. Each of the nearly identical silver items had a handle as well as another part that protruded at a right angle to the handle. Though Seba couldn't figure out how they worked or what they did precisely, the way Sam's friends held them gave Seba the distinct impression that they were weapons.

The only other item Tristan removed from the chest, after a bit of digging around, was a ring very similar to the one Sam wore. Seba remembered how Sam had been holding his hand out, the one with the ring on it, and somehow using it to direct their path on the way there. He remembered how Sam had passed by the chest, then swung back around to point his hand directly at it. Though he didn't understand what was happening at all, Seba was beginning to see some connections.