Emigration by Julie Steimle (best management books of all time .TXT) 📖

sing for a well to sit by

I’d sing for a well to sit by

And a sweet story to tell,

Yes, a sweet story to tell.

 

Dural Kordek glanced into the cell. He lifted his baritone to sing the next verse to the song:

 

If I were a captain of fifty drinking at a bar

I’d drink for a bar to sit inI’d drink for a bar to sit in

I’d drink for a bar to sit in

And a sweet lady not far,

Yes, a sweet lady not far.

 

Jafarr frowned at him though he continued the song:

 

If I were a Tarrn hiding all my life

I’d pray for a life to live by

I’d pray for a life to live by

I’d pray for a life to live by

And a world without strife,

Yes, a world without strife.

 

“Pity,” Dural Kordek said. “You could have become singer like your ancestor, Kerzan, if you had not joined the rebellion.”

Jafarr lifted his chin. “I’d rather take after the other Kerzan, his predecessor who nearly unseated the High Class.”

Dural Korad glanced at his superior as the head Dural sneered at Jafarr with loathing as he sauntered over to the guard, whispering something.

But Jafarr did not know any other verses, and no other song came to him then that would comfort him as he waited. He sat with his head on his knees.

“You need me?” Jafarr heard a new voice say from the hall. He looked up. Here was a brawny man, broad chest, built like a truck and armed with hot stick used in any interrogation.

“Yes.”

Dural Kordek had the guard shut off the security screen and all three Durals stepped inside the entryway. Jafarr stood up against the wall. His face grew pale as his palms went clammy as his mouth went dry. Dural Mezra smiled with pleasure, flicking on the switch to his heated club.

Wounds

Dural Mezra was not gentle. Of course, that was the point.

Jafarr crouched over on the floor holding his side while clutching his head as the man stood over him with his hot club. Durals Korad and Kordek stood off to the side, watching with folded arms as Dural Kordek asked the questions in between beatings.

“Where is your main headquarters, Zeldar?” he demanded.

Jafarr groaned but said nothing.

Dural Mezra gladly hit him with his club, smashing hard into Jafarr’s back while searing into his skin another row of blisters. Jafarr jerked in pain with barely a look at the men, his eyes clenched shut.

“Tell us where the main headquarters are, Zeldar, and this will stop,” Dural Kordek said again.

Jafarr let out a feeble laugh, fighting against his pain. “Do…do… do you actually think I’d tell you?” 

He sat up and spat out blood from his mouth onto the floor.

With a dirty look, Dural Kordek motioned for Dural Mezra to hit Jafarr again. Jafarr looked up at the ceiling, waiting for the blow. As he braced for the strike, he noticed movement on the other side of the air vent grate overhead. The hot club smashed into his gut. He doubled over, smelling his skin sizzle with smoke.

Dural Kordek hovered over him, his gaze almost pitying. “Just say it, Zeldar, and this will stop.”

Gasping for breath, Jafarr clutched his chest. It did not matter if they beat him to a pulp. What was the point to his life if everyone he cared about died? Betraying them would be worse than death.

The security grid in the doorway flickered momentarily, flashing a bright electrical ripple across the crackling screen. Dural Korad looked back with a shout to the guard outside. “What just happened?”

The guard shrugged. “Just a surge in the system. It happens occasionally. Nothing to worry about.”

Dural Korad nodded and turned back, yet as he did, something dropped from ceiling air vent to the floor. It was small, spherical, and it suddenly flashed a bright white light.

“Gah!” Dural Korad lifted his arms across his face, falling back.

There was laser fire.

He pulled out his weapon and started to shoot at the ceiling, but he could not see, and then something crashed on top of him, shoving him down to the ground. Jafarr was only less blind, his eyes already closed from the pain as Dural Mezra’s club hit him one more time before that man yowled, swinging at anything and everything around him. Then Dural Mezra fell right on top of him, landing on his already aching side. When the white light was gone, Jafarr blinked up through his swollen eye at the dangling ropes that hung down inside his cell and the three masked people who stood over him, heaving Dural Mezra’s dead body off him.

A grin broke on his already split lip.

“Hang on,” on of the rescuers whispered.

They immediately lifted him off the ground and carried him to a harness that now dangled out of the vent hole like a swing, strapping him in. As they heaved him up through the hole, Jafarr looked down at the three bleeding P.M.s on the floor. Dural Korad moaned for help as the other two lay still. One of the rescuers lifted his pistol to shoot Korad in the head, but the guard outside was already scrambling to open the door they had jammed, a large contingency of security guards waiting to spring inside once the field was off. So the man stuffed his gun back in and scurried up the rope back into the vent system.

“Zeldar!” Drual Korad screamed after them. “Zeldar!”

His voice soon muted then was overrun by the sound of gunfire.

The masked team carried Jafarr up another level in the uppercity out of the grid in the P.M. security net over ISIC as the other half kept the P.M.s off them, still holding him in the harness despite his protests that he could walk. The security grid snapped back into place, but they were already well out of the area when they stopped for a breather. They hiked him up again, carrying him by his arms and legs until they reached an open catwalk over an uppercity sky. There five more men stood waiting with a stretcher. When Jafarr saw them, he groaned. “You were expecting me to be thrashed, huh?”

One of the men took off his facemask and frowned. It was Alzdar.

“We knew we wouldn’t get there in time,” Alzdar said, gesturing for the others to help carry Jafarr to the stretcher. His face was taut with worry.

Jafarr closed his eyes. “Well, at least you came. I was beginning to wonder.”

With a groan, they lifted him onto the stretcher, strapping him in securely so that his head and all his limbs could not move. Then they activated the anti-grav mechanism so that it hovered off of the catwalk surface twenty inches. As it rocked, Jafarr let his body relax.

Alzdar walked along side the stretcher as the others led them back, fore-guards and rearguards watching and listening for any activity that would indicate they were found, guns ready. Glancing down at Jafarr in alternate moments, Alzdar’s guilt-etched face looked away just as often. Jafarr had opened his eyes once and fixed the one that wasn’t swollen on Alzdar’s face, frowning. He tried to reach over with his secured hand but could only move about an inch.

“Al,” Jafarr called out, his throat dry. He cleared it, calling louder. “Al. It wasn’t your fault.”

“I should have been watching your back, Jafarr.” Alzdar stared ahead, just shaking his head. “I knew you were going into P.M. territory. I should have known you’d be in danger of getting caught.” Alzdar glanced down at his friend. “I should have gotten there sooner.”

Jafarr laughed, but as he did his sides rippled with pain so he stopped, clenching his teeth.

“Careful, Jafarr. You don’t want to aggravate your wounds.” Alzdar laid a hand on Jafarr’s stretcher.

Jafarr tried to shake his head but it had been secured too well that he could not move it. “It isn’t your fault. That girl was there.”

“That girl?” Alzdar looked puzzled.

Closing his eyes Jafarr said, “Yes, that girl. That Surface Patrol officer, what’s-her-name, Zormna Clendar. That girl was inspecting something there or whatever. I don’t know. She was there.” He cringed, wishing he could move. “She nailed me when I was in a ship getting the shuttle codes.”

Alzdar’s mouth opened. “She spotted you? How’s that possible?”

“Personal vendetta? I don’t know.” Jafarr groaned and tried to move once more but the straps made it impossible. “She’s dangerous though, someone we really have to watch out for.”

Alzdar nodded.

Jafarr groaned again and tried to shift as everything hurt, but Alzdar stopped him.

“Lie still. You might have internal bleeding.”

Resigned himself to the rest of the trip, Jafarr closed his eyes.

 

The Unfortunate News

“What do you mean you lost him?” Zormna shouted at the vis-screen. The People’s Military officer on the other side seemed just as disgruntled as she did.

<<The rebels broke him out of ISIC, Anzer. They killed two of our men, one of them being Dural Kordek. This wasn’t just a lost prisoner. It was an attack.>>

Zormna nodded with a groan. “Fine. I’ll keep an eye out if he comes my way.”

The P.M. signed out. Switching off the vis-screen, Zormna turned around and looked at Alea Arden who had been standing behind her. He had a slight smirk on his face.

“What are you smiling about?” Zormna asked, seriously annoyed as she stomped from the com panel.

Alea Arden shrugged with a careless look and headed down the hallway with her. “You did your best, Zormna. That kid is just good at getting away.”

Zormna rolled her eyes. “The P.M.s expect me to get him back.”

He lifted his eyebrows at her. “You aren’t actually going to run around looking for him are you?”

She shook her head. “That’s P.M. business. Let the boy run free. As long as he stays out of my ships, my shifts, and my sight he won’t have any trouble with me.”

Alea Arden grinned. “Keen idea.” Changing the subject, he said, “You want to go to the Surface Gate and catch a game of runnings?”

Zormna nodded. “Yeah, that should burn off some steam.”

They walked out of the hall, grabbing their helmets and flight jackets. Zormna glanced back at the vis-com and shook her head. That boy better keep out of her sight if he knew his own good.