Pathways - Jeri Taylor [242]
Those dreams were gone by her ninth year, when Gammi died at the hands of drunken soldiers and the greatest aspiration Coris could imagine was simply surviving for one more day.
Her own capture and imprisonment by the Subu reduced the circumstances of her life not at all, as she believed she would have died soon had she remained free. Dying in this prison camp was no different.
Until the Voyagers had come along.
She had never met such people, never even imagined them. Gammi had taught her that in the life after death there were such great beings, full of goodness and joy, but never had she thought it possible for people of this dimension to embody all those grand qualities.
She was ashamed that she’d been introduced to them because of trying to steal Harry’s boots, but she was still grateful to have met them, to have sat with them and listened to their stories, to hear of their strength, their generosity, their selflessness. Night after night she had sat quietly, discovering in them a nobility that both fascinated and intimidated her.
She finally felt that she knew why one was born into low estate, into pain and squalor: it was so that one could transcend those circumstances, could toughen and hone oneself against adversity and in so doing, become noble and selfless.
She hadn’t thought her opportunity would come so quickly. She’d hoped to go with the Voyagers when they made their escape, so that she could continue to learn from them, could grow stronger and more certain of herself.
But she hadn’t the slightest doubt that fate had given her the very opportunity she sought right at this moment.
At the rate the Subu guards were moving, the Voyagers would never be able to move everyone out of the shelters before they were discovered. Something had to slow them down, and that was what Coris intended to do. The tiny flame nicked higher, warming her with a feeling she’d never had before, something she couldn’t even identify, but which she knew she must follow.
The old transtator was heavy in her hands. This was the very first component the Voyagers had procured; she’d been with Harry when he found it and traded some food for it. It turned out not to be functional, even though it sparked and hummed and emitted a weak beam of light.
But tonight it would become invaluable.
She had now circled around so that she was ready to intercept the guards from a direction well away from the Voyagers. A few minutes was all she’d need, and she was sure she could endure the attack of the Subu tentacles for a few minutes. Pain was familiar to her, and surely in her young life she’d suffered worse.
She noticed that a few puzzled prisoners stared after her as she marched through their midst, ordinarily an undertaking fraught with danger. But with the presence of the guards, no one would think of doing anything to draw attention. She was safe from the unwanted attention of prisoners.
The guards were only a few meters away now, rampaging through a small encampment of the Yottins, who shrank in terror from the guards, their monstrous weapons, and their deadly tentacles.
Now.
She planted herself directly in front of the guards as they moved away from the Yottins and lifted the transtator, pointing it directly at them. The thin beam of light wasn’t visible in the daylight, but now that night was almost on them, it shone right at the first Subu guard.
He stopped in utter bewilderment. Then took a step back, hand raised to stop the others.
His orifice opened slightly, an expression Coris had never seen on these creatures. It looked almost like a smile, but she couldn’t imagine these beings smiling.
It occurred to her that it must be a strange tableau, she, a small girl, holding the heavy transtator pointed at the guards; they stopped in their tracks, uncertain, caught unawares by her strange behavior.