"Force/SuperNova chapter 2" by Emily Ramos

The Tracker dropped River on the cave floor with no concern for her well-being. She had already bound her hands and feet, gagged her with her own yellow bandanna, and made it to the rendezvous point with no trouble. Now all she had to do was wait. And she was good at waiting. She lit a fire with her old-fashioned flint and knife and then stared out at the rain as it fell in waves, filling the cave with both its scent and sound.

            River grunted and groggily came awake. As soon as she had taken in the situation, she began to struggle against her binds.

            “No point,” the Tracker warned in a disinterested tone. “Those be my knots. Won’t come undone easy.”

            The Tracker paused, waiting for River to stop her struggles. She watched with a bored gaze and then nodded when River finally stopped moving.

            “Now, I don’ know what you done to make folk want you, but if you be good I will take that gag out so you can breathe proper.”

            River nodded enthusiastically. The Tracker got up with the grace of a cat and walked around the smoking fire to stand over her captive. She crouched down and pulled the bandanna from River’s mouth.

            “Let me go right now! I ain’t done nothin’ and if some sort o’ warrant went out on a Loner it weren’t me so you let me go right now! Else I’ll - ”

            The Tracker shut River short by pushing the cloth back into her mouth.

            “Now girl, that be just the sort of ruckus we can’t be havin’. Now, much as I’d like to chat with you and hear why folk be interested in you, I ain’t totally adverse to silence. ‘Specially when any sort of commotion’ll bring all them Force troops down in that valley right up here. So don’t be drawin’ attention to us or you gonna be stuck with silence. You promise to keep quiet?”

            River glared at the Tracker, her crystal blue eyes sparking with an icy fire.

            “I figured that would be the way of it. Shame.”

            As the Tracker stood, River clenched her jaw. The fire in her eyes died and the Tracker raised her eyebrows.

            “Give up?”

            With a slow, deliberate nod, River gave up her silent fight and with it half of her painstakingly gathered beliefs that captors and captives should never negotiate on any level. The Tracker knelt again and pulled the gag, tossing it on the ground when River held her silence.

            “Good girl.”

            “Tell me, Tracker, what is your name?” River hissed.

            “Name? Do Trackers have names?” she asked back whimsically, a clandestine smile playing across her lips.

            River considered the question seriously, careful thought masking her face. “I don’t know. You are people, are you not, who were born to those who would have you named, so why would you not have names still, as much as they go unused in your current profession.”

            The Tracker smiled, finding she almost liked the girl. “I used to be called Jayne. Now, I am simply one of many Trackers.”

            “So. Jayne Tracker,” River said, giggling half sarcastically. “That’s funny, really. I figured you would have a little more exotic of a name. Not some common name from the Ancient Times. Really, so old fashioned. It’s almost a disgrace.”

            Jayne’s new-found feelings of camaraderie evaporated instantly, as if they had never existed. Scowling, she scooped up the bandanna and shoved it back into River’s laughing mouth.

            Several hours later a pair dressed in Nova colors appeared in the mouth of the cave. River regarded them fearfully, her heart pounding rapidly. This she had not expected. Not them.

            “Bring her,” the woman hissed to Jayne.

            Jayne hoisted River up and followed the monstrous pair into the transport just outside of the cave.

            “Where are we going?” Jayne asked, dropping River just inside the safe-lock ramp.

            “Somewhere we can work in peace.”

            “I am frustrated, Glau,” Nathaniel said through clenched teeth.

            “I know, sir.”

            “You know? You know? Mr. Glau, you cannot possibly know. This is why I hate dealing with Trackers. Whenever we want to hire them they always refuse to take the job until they know exactly what it is we want! Glau, go see if you can find some less…principled Trackers to take this job.”

            “Yes sir, right away,” Fox said. He began to turn but upon seeing Iysen scowl behind Nathaniel, he paused.

            “Why don’t you just tell them what I told you?” Iysen said crossly.

            Nathaniel rounded on her, throwing his hands in the air. “What! You want me to tell them that we want them to find a damn teenage girl – who we don’t even know the name of – that is going to be the key to our survival?”

            “Yes. You understand me perfectly,” Iysen said, smiling sweetly. She turned and departed from the room.

            Fox watched her as she left; finally realizing what was off about the pair’s relationship. He had always sensed that something in them was strictly strategy. Now he saw that she, as much as she may need Nathaniel to give her social standing, was simply a tool to the high-ranking Force Officer.

            “Teenage girl?” Fox asked quietly, trying to ascertain whether or not his new theory was correct.

            “Iysen knows things. She sees and feels things that no one else does. There are some others like her. They were called witches and psychics in the Old Days and Ancient Times. Even in the Forgotten Times there were those like her that were feared. It is part of evolution.”

            “Is she the one who saw these ‘Others’ coming?”

            “Yes.”

            “How do you know she is telling the truth?”

            “Do not question it. However, because I trust you…. Iysen has seen many things, told me, and never been wrong. I have learned to trust her judgment. She has never lied to me.”

            “Alright. So…do you still want new Trackers?”

            Nathaniel crossed his arms indecisively, causing the metallic silver of his shirt to bunch up and turn dull. “Yes. Put out a call for more. I will, however, tell those that we have already drawn. Please inform Lord Isaac of my decision.”

            “Yes, sir.”

            Nathaniel and Fox departed from the Strategy Room and went their separate ways in the hall. Nathaniel strode towards the holding rooms, pulling on his light blue Force jacket as he went. He tapped once on each of the doors as he passed and the Trackers emerged into the spacious corridor. They trailed after the unpredictable Force Officer, strapping on their various weapons as they did so. Many of the Trackers were unhappy with the way they were treated and distrustful of every member of the Force, hence the weapons. They did not combine well with each other, and that fact was only made worse by the fact that they were cooped up together on one of many levels of only one of the Force Operations building.

            Upon entering the meeting room, Nathaniel stood to the side of the wide door and watched the Trackers silently fill the room. They didn’t sit civilly upright in the plush velvet blue chairs. Instead, they lounged, swinging their feet up onto the polished glass tables or over the armrests. Some ignored the chairs altogether and sat on or leaned against the tables, walls and window ledges. One even sat cross-legged on the floor.

            Nathaniel concealed his disdain for them behind a carefully cultivated mask. Before he had become a Force Officer, he had made a point of using his power of influence to keep Trackers and Gypsies from his City by any means necessary. Once he had joined the Ranks, however, it had become essential that he keep his personal opinions just that – personal.

            It was a constant struggle. Not only were the Trackers ungoverned by his precious laws, but they had an antiquated style that disgusted Nathaniel. They wore old leather vests and jackets over what had once been considered dress shirts. They also wore blue jeans from the Old Days. Their weapons holsters were like that from the very beginning of the Old Days, when “cowboys” were an ideal.

            Nathaniel shut the door and walked stiffly to the front of the room. He turned to face the Trackers and crossed his arms, his jacket pulling tightly across his soldiers.

            “So,” he began curtly. “As you refuse to take this job without further knowledge, I have been forced to tell you what it is we need. If you don’t take the job once you know, it will be up to Lord Isaac to deal with you.”

            “Is that a threat?” one of the Trackers demanded.

            “That depends on Lord Isaac’s decision. And if you don’t take the job. You are needed in the search for a weapon that could prove indispensable in the fight to save our unified way of life.”

            Some of the Trackers snickered at Nathaniel’s blind belief in the Force. One, however, swung his legs from the arm of the chair and leaned against his knees. “A weapon that will save mankind. That original,” he said sarcastically.

            “Yes.”

            “What does this weapon look like? Or perhaps you could give us a location of sorts?”

            Nathaniel shifted to a slightly more defensive stance. “I don’t know a location or any sort of appearance.”

            “Then what be the point of bringing us here?”

            “We believe that you can find her. We need you to.”

            “Her?”

            “Yes. The weapon is a teenage girl. She is probably already captive to a Tracker hired by another party. She is a Loner.”

            “So your weapon is a teenage Gypsy?” a Tracker asked skeptically. “Well maybe we can scour the world for her.”

            “Finding one person in the whole planet surely can’t be that hard.”

            “That is why there are so many of you.”

            “It’s a pointless task, Mr. Officer. The world is too large to find a single person.”

            “It is not as large as it used to be. Thousands of miles have been lost to the Ice Melt.”

            “We don’t need a history lesson, Officer.”

            “The point is that when one of you delivers the girl, you all get paid.”

            The Trackers looked around at each other and then one rose. “We will accept your proposition.”

            Teyla sat on the edge of the bottom bunk, her chic but somewhat beat-up silver duffle bag beside her. She looked nervously down the row of bunks and then across to the others, trying to spot someone who didn’t look terrified or like they were ready to fall over from exhaustion. But as far as she could tell, no one was free from the ravages of war.

            “Hey there, young one. You be Teyla Wheydon?”

            “Yes, I am.”

            “Well. I’m Allie. You can take the bottom bunk. Here be some new sheets. Well, not new but clean.”

            “Please don’t mind me asking, but what happened to the last person who occupied this bunk?” Teyla asked nervously.

            “Same thing that happens that opens every bunk. She was killed in a run yesterday.”

            Teyla’s mouth fell open in shock. “What?”

            “Happens all the time, kid. This be war.”

            “Yeah. It is.”

            Allie sat beside Teyla, her hazel eyes compassionate. “Sweetie, why are you here? You don’t seem like the type of girl who should be volunteering for a fight.”

            “No?”

            “No.”

            “What unit are you with?”

            “I lead Red Squadron, run with unit Red-1. Which are you with?”

            “I have been assigned to the Joint Unit, I believe it is called, under Adah Beckett and Ethan Tahms.”

            Allie whistled. “I guess you won’t really be needing the sheets then. Don’t bother unpacking.”

            Teyla’s breathing immediately quickened. “What do you mean? Why shouldn’t I unpack?”

            “Sweetie, A-Beck is second in command of this whole operation. She should really be at the SuperNova Headquarters but…. She refuses. Ethan does too. The Joint Unit, they be goin’ on the most runs. They got one scheduled for tonight.”

            Allie stood with a smile and then walked away. Teyla stared after her, her eyes wide with fear. She shook her head, not wanting to believe what the woman had said. Somehow, though, she could not doubt that this would most likely be her last night alive.

            “Hey, you be in our unit. I’m Naomi Wayk.”

            “My name is Teyla.”

            “I know who you be. C’mon, I’m to get you new girls ready for your first run.”

            Teyla got up without a word and followed Naomi and the five other new Novas out of Barracks C and down the long, straight hall line with both branching halls and Prep-Room doors. Naomi led them into a room labeled “JOINT-UNIT BECK.” Inside, Naomi pulled uniforms from storage. Most of them had messy patch-up jobs that had obviously been meant to mend bloody holes and tears. Each of the girls received two pairs of olive-green cargoes, three black tank-tops, two black T-shirts, an olive green jacket, and the same shade of green hat. On the back of the jacket, shirts, and side of the pants was emblazoned a black wolf.

            “Most of the articles been used afore, but can’t help that. Boots are along the wall there. Through that door righ’ there are some showers. They don’t have much hot water, but you won’t much notice after a few weeks. This be our Prep-room, where we come to get ready to go on a run and where we clean up after. Ya’ll get dressed now.”

            Hesitantly, Teyla pulled off her clothes and shoved them in one of the spare lockers as the other girls were doing. She then pulled on one set of her uniform, minus the T-shirt. As the girls did so, Naomi began preparing their weapons, which Dana had explained earlier. While Teyla was still lacing up her boots, Naomi began to speak.

            “I ‘spect that y’all know how t’ shoot a gun, so I ain’t gonna go over that. However, once you surrive for a while, you can order yer own guns and then you don’ have to rely on these crappy ol’ things. We do except y’all to take care o’ your weapons, so anything that looks sloppy after a run and you get to do some extra work. Also, when we ain’t out on runs or the like an’ you got some spare time, some of us older Novas can teach y’all how to use knives an’ the like. Until then, your gun be your best friend.”

            Naomi continued to explain how things worked at Base-Primary until the girls were all ready. Contrary to popular belief, Base-Primary was not SuperNova headquarters. SN-HQ was hidden away with a reserve of Novas that would take over the fight if all six of the bases should fall, which two had already.

            Finally, Naomi stood and the young Novas followed suit.

            “Excuse me,” one of the girls said softly before Naomi could lead the way out. “What exactly we be doin’ this run?”

            “We be takin’ on a brigade of force soldiers.”

            “A brigade? Isn’t that a mite dangerous?” Another girl asked.

            “Of course it’s dangerous,” Teyla snapped, her nerves getting the better of her. “They are the Force. They are trained to kill.”

            “Well said, young one. The Force is trained to kill, but we won’t be alone, Summer. Ethan Tahms’ unit’ll be with us, an’ two other unit-pairs gonna be attackin’ from the north and west.”

            “How much will we be outnumbered by?”

            The door opened quietly and to other Novas entered. Naomi nodded to them and then turned to the girl who had asked the question.

            “By enough that it ain’t a fair fight, but this is war and it ain’t fair. ‘Sides, bein’ outnumbered ain’t never stopped us afore. Now. These two fine girls are Chloe Cooper and Natasha Viedra. And now if you don’ mind, we really should be headin’ out.”

            Naomi hoisted her weapon into a better grip and led the way from the room. Spilling into the hall were five other units, dressed similarly, but with identifying Unit Insignia on the backs of their jackets, and presumably their black shirts as well, in the color of their unit. Teyla thought of the image of a black wolf on the back of her units’ jackets and shirts. Together they all strode to the Transport Bay, where three of the medium sized transports waited at the ready.

            Teyla watched as the unit members went to their transports as she followed Naomi into their own. Another unit joined them, also with the black wolf insignia, though their wolf had amber eyes instead of crimson. From what Naomi had told them, Teyla knew that this was the companion unit of her own – the Joint Unit.

            The new Novas, the replacements for those killed, stood in a tight group beside the skeleton steel staircase. Teyla gripped her gun tightly, her face white, her knuckles paling to the same shade.

            “I’m Anna,” the chestnut haired girl beside her said.

            “My name is Teyla. Do you – do you know where Adah is?”

            “No. I don’t. Why?”

            “I think I’d feel better if I knew who she was?”

            “I heard she doesn’t get to know the people she commands because she eats their hearts when they die,” another girl hissed.

            “That’s absurd,” Teyla retorted, but the comment put her ill at ease.

            Just then, a commanding woman with red hair pulled back in a tight ponytail strode up the safe-lock ramp. She paused for a moment, talking to a young man who had hair that was the same shade of red. She then walked over towards the group, but did not stop. In stead she raced up the stairs two at a time until she reached the landing. There she took on an authoritative stance, her feet shoulder width apart, her hands gripping the rail in front of her.

            “I know there be some new to this sort o’ thing, but I expect you, on the behalf o’ Tahms an’ myself, not to run an’ hide as soon as th’ bullet’s start a-flyin’. So just fight as you can an’ don’ back down, else I’ll kill you myself. Got it?”

            “That’s Adah for you,” the girl who’d warned Teyla and Anna whispered.

            Adah seemed to look directly at Teyla, and she looked away, unable to bear her commander’s gaze.

            Nathaniel halted in front of one of the last surviving relics from the Ancient Times. It was a true wooden door, not just a mimic that many used. It was a shame that the True Trees had to be so carefully guarded, but when the Ancestors had expanded their cities…well, many things were different. But this, this was a real wood door, complete with carvings of strange creatures around the edges.

            Beyond the Ancient Time’s door was Lord Isaac’s office. It was for this reason that Nathaniel buttoned his jacket and ran a hand through his hair, attempting to tame it into laying the way it would have if he had used the gel that morning, the way all soldiers were supposed to wear it. When he was satisfied that his appearance was as good as it was going to get, he reached out and knocked twice on the door. It was instantly opened by an Under Officer and Nathaniel stepped inside.

            Lord Isaac’s office was completely opposite of anything that you would think, seeing the Ancient Door that hid it from view. Everything was crisp and organized, all with clear-cut boundaries. The walls were the precise shade of a cloud-covered blue sky. A black chair of mimic wood, nowhere near as nice as the true wood, waited on the near side of a blue stainless steel desk. On the other side of the desk was a dark, high-backed chair of golden realwood. In the throne-like chair sat Lord Isaac.

            “Nathaniel. Sit.”

            Nathaniel sat rigidly on the edge of the mimic chair. His back was straight and his hands were tightly folded in his lap.

            “Mr. Glau has informed me of your plan,” Lord Isaac said without any preamble. “Although I am not sure of the possibility for success, I support you. Therefore, along with my fellow Lords and Ladies, I have decided to promote you to Force Agent.”

            Nathaniel’s only show of shock was the slight raising of his eyebrows and a swift blink. “Agent, sir?”

            “Yes, Nathaniel. You will, of course, still be in complete control of this investment, and once we find the weapon you will control that as well. And you will still work with Mr. Glau, as he knows so much about this particular operation.”

            Nathaniel smiled tightly. “Mr. Glau,” he began harshly, “I could do without.”

            “Unfortunately, Mr. Glau is an important part of this operation. Besides, with the information he knows he could be very dangerous if he were to go to the Nova.”

            “Ah, yes. And I suppose he is good help. Very smart, that one.”

            “I am glad you see it that way. Now. When do you expect to have the weapon?”

            “That is uncertain, sir.”

            “Very well. Dismissed.”

            As Nathaniel rose, the comm-device in his ear buzzed and a code streamed through in a soft, but rapid, female voice. It was one of the Force Officers’ Identity codes. All of the Unified Peoples had an Identification code, but the Citizens’ were only six numbers instead of the nine numbers and three letters of a Force code.

            Nathaniel waited until he was back in the hall before answering the comm. “What is it, Wheydon?”

            “Sir, three SuperNova transports have been sighted. They are moving towards our encampment at The Crater. It is possible that they have sufficient numbers to overpower our brigade there.”

            “Take a battalion to reinforce, Wheydon. Take prisoners when possible. Kill when it is not.”

            “Yes, sir. Right away.”

            Jayne Tracker stood as from the sadistic man and tortured girl as possible. She didn’t understand why she had to be there, but she accepted it as part of the job. So, leaning against the wall in a shadowed corner, she’d watched as the man drew a knife across the girl’s skin in slow, painful lines.

            Finally the man stepped away and dropped the blood-stained knife on the dirty floor.

            “Tie her.”

            Jayne stepped forward and did as told, showing little consideration for the girls injuries. The man left the room and River spoke.

            “You ever heard of the Floods?” her voice was cracked and raw, mirroring her outward appearance.

            “The Floods?” Jayne asked, her curiosity briefly stilling her hands.

            “Yes. Noah and Atlantis and New York. You ever heard of them?”

            “Myths,” Jayne snapped.

            “I don’t think so. Our ancestors destroyed this world. Why would they waste time with myths?”

            “They weren’t like us girl. They had time for indulgences.”

            Jayne yanked the rope tight, and the pain in itself overwhelmed River enough to cause her to black out. Then Jayne left the room and found the man just down the hall, sitting with the woman.

            “We will resume the sessions tomorrow,” the man said matter-of-factly, showing no hint of emotion.

            “Why do you torture her?” Jayne asked.

            “To awaken what power she may possess. By causing her pain, we can learn if she is the one.”

            “What powers?”

            “Woman, do you not know of the Powers? This girl is the carrier of a power so great she could destroy everything in her path. Besides, you will be killing her anyway.”

            “Then why cause her more pain?” Jayne asked, slightly unsettled.

            “Lessons, Tracker. Pain teaches lessons.”

            “So Anna, why did you decide to join the SuperNova?” Teyla asked, trying to forget about what was sure to be her imminent death.

            Anna sighed. “Well, my brother joined a few months ago and then he got killed…. It just seemed like the right thing to do, I guess.”

            “But won’t it be very hard on your parents if they lose you too?”

            “My parents are dead.”

            “Oh. I’m very sorry.”

            “There isn’t anything you could have done. They were hunted down by a covert Force soldier, a commander of some sort. A colonel, Silver Rank, I think my brother said.”

            “Why did the Force kill them?” Teyla asked, resting her elbow on the arm that was wrapped around her torso, her hand covering her mouth with curled fingers.

            “They left the City. Just after I was born. The Force was…unhappy.” Anna shook her head and then smiled. “So what about you? Why did you join?”

            Teyla’s brow furrowed. Her face quickly smoothed and she smiled sadly. “It is the only option left for me. Excuse me, I would like to go speak with Adah Beckett, and I believe she is free now.”

            Without waiting for a response, Teyla pushed herself to her feet and ran to stop Adah before she got a chance to climb the stairs.

            “Adah, I wish to speak with you.”

            “You will address me as captain.”

            “Right, sorry, Captain. Is it often that we go into situations like this where chance for survival is so slim?”

            “Yes.”

            “Really?”

            “Ev’ry time we go out on a run we face death. We are ou’numbered simply by nature. We mus’ go forth, else we have no reason to fight. Our lives would be worth nothin’ if we did not carry through with our beliefs.”

            Teyla nodded, but her mind had already jumped. “You speak strangely.”

            “As do I. Simon Beckett, at your service.”

            Beckett?

            “To us, youngin’, you are th’ one with th’ accent.”

            “I’m sorry, it’s just…. What is it?”

            “Scot’ish,” Simon said quickly.

            Adah tossed him a sharp glance. “’Twas wha’ our fam’ly was considered afore th’ World Council destroyed distinctions o’ nationality.”

            “What were you?” Simon asked.

            “I do not know,” Teyla said warily. “My parents never said.”

            “Your accent is strange…seems a mix of sorts.”

            “Like I said, I do not know. Besides, I doubt it even matters, what since Unification.”

            There was an angry glint of fire in Adah’s eyes. “For all they say we be unified, there ain’t much they can do abou’ the way folk speak. Though they’re tryin’ to take that away even, what with their relocation camps.”

            “Excuse me?”

            Adah turned a cool gaze on Teyla. “If you have nothing left to ask, I mus’ be getting’ on. I try not to get too attached to my girls. At least not those who are goin’ to die.” And then Adah whirled away and trudged up the stairs.

            Both Teyla and Simon stared after her, Teyla a bit put out and Simon embarrassed. He turned to Teyla and attempted to explain Adah’s behavior.

            “My sister is…. Adah can be a bi’ touchy.”

            “Yes, I can see that. But I don’t…. Why does it matter so much if there are no more nationalities? I simply don’t understand why we cannot be one people.”

            “You speak of Unification. And in support?”

            “No,” Teyla said, a little too quickly. “I am just trying to understand.”

            “Well. You are SuperNova. Talk like that could get you killed by your own.”

            “Right, I’ll keep that in mind.

            Teyla turned from Simon and went back to sit beside Anna.

            “What was that?” Anna asked lightly.

            “Nothing. Nothing at all.”