Hans felt bad trampling the Flowering Shortgrass–the delicate white flowers cried beneath his feet as he marched forward, his footsteps heavy with the two backpacks he carried, each stuffed with provisions for the trip. Behind him, V’han carried the green chair. Hans sometimes wondered if he should leave the chair behind, but he couldn't bear to part with it. It was a piece of home, a memory of Zak, a token declaring that despite the loss of nearly everything, he could still afford a little vanity. The two were making good time, walking east with the Tablelands of Selfar to their right. Low cliffs rich in marble rose into the sky, the legs supporting the long, flat Tablelands that covered the southern half of Selfar. Hans and V'han kept in their shadow, but the region was remote and they had not seen a soul since they left the road. They had passed a few villages, but each time they waited until nightfall to sneak around the towns, avoiding detection.
It was midday, and the orange sun burned above them, seeming hotter than usual. To the left of the sun was a smaller star, faint but visible even in the light of day. Hans occasionally cast it a wary glance; he had never seen anything like it before–even during the night the light remained in the sky to the north. It seemed to have grown brighter since its first appearance, an omen of luck for his journey; though good or bad he knew not. He thought about the prophecies of the Seven Scrolls, which claimed that such a star would appear above the Sheeks' Land forecasting the arrival of a leader who would free the Hakes from the Sheeks. On the one hand, it was an encouraging thought. On the other, it could explain the increased aggression of the Sheeks–they had no love for the Seven Scrolls or any other thing that gave hope to the Hakes.
Ahead, he spotted a tiny waterfall cascading down the side of a stern cliff, its misty spray filling the air with tiny rainbows. “Ah,” he said to V'han, “let's stop here for a rest.”
Hans drank the cool water eagerly, enjoying the smell of the prairie and the sound of the trickling water mixed with the wind blowing off the Tablelands high above. V'han set the green chair down, but did not drink. Instead, his head turned to the east and he listened intently.
Hans heard the noise as well. “To the cliff!” he shouted in fright, grabbing the packs and chair and flinging them towards the shelter of the marble face.
A helicraft roared over the bluff, appearing in the sky overhead.
“Well, V’han, this could be the end of our journey. I think it's spotted us.” The dull roar of the whirling blades increased as the helicraft turned and dropped towards the prairie. The Hake Insignia was painted on its side, a red star in a field of white. When Hans saw it, he breathed a sigh of joy. “Hakes!” he exclaimed. “What luck!”
He handed the green chair to V'han, grabbed the packs, and hurried across the stream toward the helicraft setting down in a ring of bowing shortgrass. The door to the craft opened, and two Sheeple stepped out.
“Good day,” said one, spotting the red symbol affixed to Hans' shirt. “Need a ride?”
“Possibly. We're trying to get to the Hakes' Area.”
The Sheepel gave an odd laugh. “I'm sure you are. Do you have a residence there?”
“No, I am from Talmyn.”
“Then I think you are about to change your travel plans. The Hakes' Area is now controlled by the Sheeks; you will find no refuge there.”
“What? How could it have fallen?”
“We just left it. Trust me, it's Sheek property now. The Army rolled right through it.”
“What do the Sheeks want with the Hakes' Area? Is this planet so small that every last city must be taken by them?”
“The Hakes brought it on themselves. The Sheeks demanded they turn over Quinn, but they refused. So the Sheek Army came in and took the land by force. Every last flyr and craft in the Hakes' Area is now the property of the Sheeks. All that remains is to find Quinn himself, and then the war will surely end, with the Sheeks as victor.”
“All this has happened in a few days,” cried Hans in astonishment. “Yet you have escaped with your helicraft! Are you with the Hake Army?”
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The pilot sneered. “We are with the Sheek Army. You are foolish to have thought the Hakes’ Area would mean freedom.” He motioned, and Hans blinked in surprise as the other Sheepel cuffed his hands. “You are under arrest for fleeing and crossing regional lines in an attempt to escape your local government. Since you spurned your life in Talmyn, we will escort you to a new paradise of sorts: Seoltin. You may yet enjoy a week or two of your life; then you will be put to a torturous death.”
V’han was shackled in the same manner as Hans.
“What is happen?” protested the V’hogel.
“Your Hake friend here just found out that no matter where he goes, the Sheeks are always watching,” answered the Sheek who had drawn the handcuffs.
“Come on. Let's get these two into the hold. And put their luggage–”
The Sheek froze as he stared at the green chair. It blended in with the Flowering Shortgrass; at first he hadn't noticed it. The other followed his gaze and grinned.
“Well, well… what have we found?” He lifted the chair into the air, inspecting it. He marveled, for the chair was unlike anything on Shamonj. “This is it–I have no doubt. Today is certainly our lucky day! Though, I suppose it makes sense–this Hake lived in Talmyn, home to the largest market on the planet.”
“What a break! Last I heard, Barthy was offering ten thousand yar for it!”
“We would live as kings!”
“Forget the Prison of Seoltin. Let's bring this loot to Barth! He's been asking for it ever since Quinn disappeared; to deliver it personally would bring us great favor.”
“Isn't he in Seoltin?”
“No, haven't you heard?” The pilot looked at his personal-information-center. “There’s some big experiment at Filstar and he’s been invited. It's closer than Seoltin anyway.”
“Then let us make haste for the Mintorn!”
The Sheeks threw Hans, V'han, and the green chair into a dark storage hold in the helicraft's belly. Hans' other possessions were left lying in the grass, marking the end of his flight to the Hakes' Area. The craft lifted off and sped north, leaving the Tablelands behind.
“V'han is scared.”
Hans looked out into the blackness, wondering what emotion was on the creature's face. “Do you miss your home? What was it like?”
There was a moment of silence before the V'hogel answered. “Is like dew in morning sun. Many were we, strong yet delicate, satisfied yet weary. The stars rise too swiftly for us; few is there now, hiding in the shadows from the Betrayed. Is no home for us.”
“Who are the Betrayed?”
“They is like us, but not like us. Their home is taken, thus they take ours.”
Hans frowned. “Who has taken your home? We don't settle the hills–it’s protected habitat.”
“Is not you, but they who say 'Gulah'.”
“So it was a rabadon who brought you to me,” Hans said, more to himself than to V'han. Somehow, he'd known it all along, but hoped it wasn't true. He had been afraid to ask; afraid to find out if the rabadon he'd seen was more than a mirage. “They are not dead, then.”
“They is alive.”
V'han began to hum an alien tune which flooded the cramped hold. In the corner, veiled by the darkness, the green chair quivered with energy. Though the V'hogle could speak Shamonjian, it was in music that they communicated with one another. Hans heard only tones and notes, but in his soul, the thoughts of V'han seemed to float out of the sad, hoarse melody and come to him. The V'hogel sang thus:
O'er Belvadore's golden fields
The starry host descended
With gifts of pow'r they should not wield
They found us undefended.
Those they sought they did not find
Their anger raged like thunder
And in their haste to right our wrong
They rent our kind asunder.
The King whose gift they'd poorly used
Wept beyond the Endless Sea
But we were left fore'er changed
Loathsome beasts of misery.
The song continued in haunting tones until Hans interrupted. “Shhh. The helicraft’s slowing. What can you hear?”
The V'hogel stopped his song and listened. “Wall is thick. They is talking; we stop. V'han does not know why.”
The two remained silent as the vessel landed. They heard a commotion outside, then the hatch opened, flooding the cargo space with brilliant light. Hans and V'han turned away to shield their eyes as a large object was tossed into the hold. The hatch slammed shut and darkness returned to the cramped space.
“What is it?” asked Hans nervously.
The object groaned. “Who's in here?”
“Is Nyck,” remembered V'han.
“Nyck? You mean that scarecrow is in here with us?”
“Uh, hi guys. I guess you didn't make it to the Hakes' Area.”
Hans frowned at the darkness. “I guess you haven't found the Reason for it All.”
“No, still working on that.”
“Well, enjoy the ride. I think they’re stopping at Filstar, but it sounds like Seoltin is our final destination. If you have any ideas on how to get out of this mess, I'd appreciate it.”
“Er, I'll work on that as well. How did you two end up in here?”
Hans related the tale of his capture to Nyck, and Nyck confirmed that both The Zone and Hakes' Area had been taken over by the Sheeks. They discussed the war until at last the helicraft reached its destination. Hans, V’han, and Nyck were pulled out of the hold and dragged to a dark stone lined room deep below Filstar Labs.
“I thought we were going to Seoltin,” protested Hans as a musty stench overwhelmed him. He'd heard bad things–no: terrible, gut wrenching things–about Seoltin, but somehow this place seemed worse. There were no other prisoners; instead there were rows of empty cages. The floor was covered with a foot of black, slimy water.
“Nah, we're gonna leave you here. It sounds like the scientists need some new test subjects. Enjoy your stay!”
The lights went out, and the sound of footsteps faded away. The three prisoners sat in shocked silence, listening to water drip around them.
