Page 3 of Zahhn's Mate
I enjoy everything about running the bar, but my favorite part of all is creating a welcoming atmosphere where the regular citizens of theJansonnamight socialize and unwind. The command team, security officers, and descendants of Founders reportedly have their own illicit meeting places, underground bars where they might go for an evening of forbidden fun. Illegal or not, why shouldn’t the regular citizens of theJansonnaenjoy the same type of respite?
My speakeasy is a labor of love. I brew the beer and distill the stronger spirits myself, using materials and credits secretly donated by my regulars. Each day, the minute my shift at my official job as a mess hall worker ends, I always head straight for the bar.
I’m not stupid. I’m fully aware that rebels frequent my bar, and I know I’m providing them with a place they might congregate in secret. But most of my patrons are regular citizens like me who simply want a cheerful place to spend their evenings. A place where they can forget about the constraints of life on theJansonna.
My best friends in the universe help staff my bar, volunteering to serve drinks, provide security, and clean up after closing time. Ellen, Angelo, and Michaela, to name a few. God, they’re going to be worried sick when I’m a no-show tomorrow evening. My co-workers in the mess hall will likely be frantic over my absence too. I started working there when I was fifteen, and during the last twenty years, I haven’t missed a single day of work.
The elevator comes to a stop and the doors jolt open. I’m greeted by the dimly lit corridor of the brig’s entrance, as well as a gust of frigid air. I shiver and wish I were wearing something more substantial than threadbare pants and a thin t-shirt. Myteeth practically chatter as the security officers lead me deeper into the brig, past several stern-faced guards and through three bolted doors.
Panic descends and dark spots mar my vision. This can’t be happening. I take deep breaths and pray I don’t faint from fear.
In all my life, I’ve never been so afraid.
I’ve heard the brig is an awful place, though this is my first time here. Whenever my father was detained, he always forbade me from visiting. Once, he’d even gone so far as to threaten to tell the authorities about Leona’s Speakeasy if I dared to visit. To say our relationship is a bit complicated would be an understatement.
I can’t help but wonder if he’ll visit me. Will he try to help? Will he attend my trial and speak on my behalf? I doubt it would make a difference. The drugs, after all, are about to be logged as evidence. Even if I call Commander Hampton out for his treachery, it will be my word against his. But if my father attempts to help me, it will mean he cares. Knowing he cares, even a little, will bring me comfort.
The guards lead me past several occupied cells, but the light is so dim that I can’t glimpse the faces of the prisoners. All I see are dark forms huddled against walls or curled up on the floor. Some cells contain over a dozen people, while others only contain one or two.
Please don’t let them toss me into a cell by myself.
I’m scared shitless and could use some companionship right now. Especially in the dimly lit brig. I’m not proud to admit it, but I’m used to sleeping with the lights on, and the thought of being tossed into a dark cell all alone causes worry to clench in my stomach.
To my great relief, I’m taken to a cell at the end of the corridor that contains six women. The security officers remove the manacles from my wrists, then unlock the cell door andshove me inside. The force of the push sends me sprawling on my hands and knees. I hiss in pain and turn on my side, gasping for air. The men chuckle as they walk away, and their cruelty sends a wave of despair through me.
I exchange curious glances with the six women. One of them, a young blonde, scoots closer and places a gentle hand on my shoulder. She gives me a sympathetic look, and it does me in. I burst into tears. Though we’re strangers, she gathers me close and hugs me.
“There there,” she says in a soothing tone. “It’ll be all right.”
“It won’t be all right.” I sniffle and try to get my emotions under control. “Commander Hampton planted drugs on me. I’m so incredibly fucked.” I peek up to find the other women moving closer, all wearing looks of concern.
A woman with curly dark hair clears her throat. “I’m so sorry. If it makes you feel any better, we’re all here on falsified charges too. Drugs. Theft. Fornication. Curfew violations.”
“Thanks, but… I feel bad for all of us,” I say. “If we didn’t do anything wrong, why waste the worldship’s resources keeping us here? At least if we’re free, we’re working and contributing. I must’ve counted over two hundred other prisoners in the brig.”
“More than that,” replies the blonde who’d comforted me. She sits back on the floor and sighs. “There are three additional wings. I overheard the guards talking the other day and it sounds like there are over five hundred prisoners down here. Most are being held on suspicion of rebel involvement. I’m Sheila by the way.”
“Hi, Sheila. My name is Leona.”
The other five women give me their names. Erin, Nancy, Isabella, Karlie, and Camilla. I briefly study each woman’s face and commit their names to memory.
“There’s been a surge of arrests since the Darrvasons showed up,” Erin says. “People are scared and worried that whateverdeal is being brokered with the aliens won’t serve humankind very well. So, naturally, there’s been an increase in rebel activity. A lot of people think they could do a better job of commanding theJansonnathan Captain Warren and his minions.”
“Human females,” says Nancy, the one with the curly dark hair. “My brother is a guard, and he witnessed the first few meetings betweenJansonna’scommand team and the alien leaders. The aliens want human women between the ages of nineteen and twenty-five for breeding purposes, and they’re demanding a minimum of two thousand of us in exchange for their help.”
My mind reels. Holy shit. The Darrvasons want two thousand women? I can scarcely fathom it. Only about fifty thousand people call theJansonnahome. Losing two thousand women of childbearing age will be a huge loss.
I peer more closely at my cellmates. At thirty-five, I’ll be safe from the aliens. But my present companions are younger than me. If I had to guess, I’d say all are within the age range the aliens are seeking. My heart goes out to them.
“Try not to worry,” I whisper, giving each woman a comforting look. “Maybe the deal won’t happen, and even if it does, that doesn’t mean all of you will be taken.”
“I work in engineering. TheJansonnais just days away from a complete systems-wide failure,” Camilla says. “Well, we have a week and a half left at most, if we’re lucky. Captain Warren will have no choice but to accept the deal. And look at us. We’re in the brig. We’re considered expendable. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out how this is going to go down.”
A week and a half left at most? I don’t volunteer that my father is one ofJansonna’stop engineers. That’ll only invite questions for which I don’t have answers. I can’t help but wonder why he hasn’t breathed a word about the seriousnessof the worldship’s predicament to me. Does he know about the trade the aliens are trying to make with humankind?
My heart sinks as I peer at my frightened cellmates. I try to think of something comforting to say, but nothing comes to mind. Camilla is right. If the captain agrees to give two thousand human females to the Darrvasons, he’ll likely pillage the brig for women first.
A long silence ensues, and we eventually situate ourselves against the cell walls. I lean back on the cold, hard surface and wonder if this is the type of cell I’ll be kept in during my years-long incarceration. A cell devoid of furniture and blankets. The only item in this small, chilled space is a toilet that’s tucked into a back corner.
