The Price of Freedom
Shit.
She closed her eyes, forcing herself to calm down and think for a minute. She had to get free and she had to get out of there quickly. She moved one leg experimentally, and felt the fabric pulling against whatever had it hooked. If it was rough, she might be able to saw through the fabric and free herself.
Bethany moved her leg slowly back and forth, rubbing the fabric against whatever had caught it. Then she pulled, testing to see if anything would happen. She felt a small piece of it tear. She twisted her leg a bit and managed to hook one foot in the hem of her dress. She pulled down, slowly and steadily, and was rewarded with a ripping sound. She was free.
She started scooting backward again, taking care to avoid the rough spot that had caught her in the first place. Then she was past it. She had no idea how long it had been since she’d made her escape. They could already be in the main station, and she had no idea where to go next.
She’d have to risk coming out in the first room she could find that had a vent large enough for an adult to crawl through, and take things from there.
It took her several tries to find a way out; she was hopelessly confused by now. As a child she had never gone through these shafts alone, and certainly never without a light. Finally she found what looked like it might be a way out. She could see a faint light at the end of one of the shafts. It looked large enough for her to pass through, so she went for it.
She moved as quickly as she could, but it still took several minutes to reach the vent. By the end, she was scooting along on her belly, moving mere inches at a time. When she reached the vent, she peered out of the grill to find that she’d stumbled across someone’s fresher. The light was a small one to help the occupants find their way in the dark.
Some family was going to get a big surprise, she thought grimly.
She had pushed open the vent and was halfway through before she realized she had another problem, a big one. This vent was nearly six feet from the floor, and all she had to break her fall were her own hands.
"Hello?" she called, trying to maintain her balance as she hung halfway out the opening. "Is anyone here?
I need help."
She called several times, but there was no response. Suddenly an explosion rocked through the dome, knocking her out of the vent. Instantly the air was filled with sirens and she heard someone in the apartment scream. Even with the noise around her, the crash she made as she landed was loud enough to catch the attention of the apartment’s occupants. The door swung open, and a man dressed only in his drawers brandished a blaster at her.
"Don’t move," he said, his voice harsh. A woman peeked around behind him, one hand held to her mouth.
"The slaves," Bethany gasped out. "The slaves are escaping. I got away from them. You have to do something."
Another blast rocked the building and the lights flickered out. Then they came back on as the emergency power supply kicked in.
"It’s Bethany, Dom," the woman said, plucking at the man’s arm. He slowly lowered the blaster, giving her a suspicious glare. Then he turned to his wife, running his fingers through his hair nervously.
"I need to join the men," he said. "If the slaves are escaping they’ll need me. Marta, you get dressed and get ready to defend the children. And you," he said, turning to Bethany. "You get to you father’s apartment. Once we get this taken care of, the elders will want to talk to you."
Bethany nodded, and stood up rather shakily. Marta led her quickly through their rooms to the door, her daughter clinging to her mother’s side.
"Be careful," she whispered. "I don’t know what’s going on out there, but the men will be quick to shoot."
"I will," Bethany said, trying to smile at her. Another blast rocked the station; both women winced.
Marta was one of the younger women who worked in the kitchen. She had often slipped a roll with some meat in it to Bethany when the older women weren’t watching. Visions of what her dead body might look like rolled through Bethany’s mind and she quickly turned away. She couldn’t think about that right now.
Marta unlatched the door and Bethany slipped out into the hallway. She had done her best to sound a warning. Now she needed to get home, where father’s body was still wrapped in a sheet in his bedroom.
The traitorous thought she’d had earlier crept back into her thoughts—if the revolt succeeded, the slaves might not be the only ones to escape the hellhole that was Bethesda Station.
Chapter Seven
The escaping slaves worked their way through the dome that housed the mining complex as quickly as they could. They kept expecting to hear alarms. There was only silence. Jess murmured a prayer of thanks to the Goddess for that; something had happened to slow Bethany down. Briefly he wondered if she was all right, and a pang went through him.
He pushed it out of his mind.
People would die on both sides before this was over. If she had stayed with him, she’d be perfectly safe right now. He had planned to leave her locked in the slave barracks; eventually all the prisoners would end up there. If she got caught in the middle of the fighting at this point, that was beyond his control.
They had decided to stick with their original plan for now. They were betting that the mining station had been built using standard, pre-fabricated domes set in a pinwheel formation. It was the most likely set up; the main question was how many domes there were and how many people lived on the station. He’d probed Bethany for information as much as he could. They calculated the station had a population of about 170. About fifty were men. The slaves were outnumbered, but they had the element of surprise on their side, at least for the moment. They also had decent firepower. The Pilgrims had rather foolishly located their arsenal right outside the slave complex. Logan had actually burst out laughing when he’d found it, amazed by their short-sighted stupidity.
In record time they made their way through the mining complex and reached an area that could only be the central hub of the pinwheel. Jess noted with satisfaction that there were four portals leading into the hub, each of which had a large shield capable of cutting off the corridors if there were an emergency. The mining dome was already theirs. If they could close the doors, they would be able to pick off the inhabitants of the other domes at their leisure. One of the domes appeared to be a greenhouse; the second public rooms and the kitchen. The third housed the apartments, and would be their primary target. Jess marveled at the foolish arrogance the Pilgrims showed yet again. Everything was clearly labeled. It had simply never occurred to them that they might have a security risk in their slave compound. They’d made moving through the station laughably easy for the escapees.