Duty and Deceit

Chapter 8

Roxas pushed open the compartment between Room 201 and 202, his guts twisted. The ship was being used to smuggle things in and out of Rehyt, Roxas was sure of it. He'd seen the workers sneak crates in while the taxing officer was preoccupied with the manager, but before Roxas could follow them, the manager had ordered him to do something else.

Imagine his surprise when Roxas found a list of unsanctioned names under the huge pile of documents in the manager's cabin. He'd already disposed of all the smuggled goods from all the crates he'd found until now. These were one of the last ones he had to check.

With a torch in hand, he walked down the narrow compartment, the fire lighting nothing but the bare walls. The hall was just two arms' length wide, closing in on him the farther he walked. He paused before a locked door and took a deep breath, stealing himself against what he might see on the other side.

He broke the flimsy padlock before slowly pushing the door open. He stifled a wince.

Two dozen pairs of eyes stared at him, some with fear or anger, others with a blank stare.

The children were scarcely dressed, few completely naked save for the tags around their necks.

One of the children started to wail.

Fuck.

"Shhh, I need you to stay quiet." Roxas went down on his knees, hushing her. She flinched as if he were about to hit her. His eyes glowed blue as he swept into their minds, calming their panic. "I will get you out of here and get you to safety. And for me to be able to do that, you can't make noises, alright?"

They looked at him wearily, their hope long diminished.

He called the oldest-looking child over, the boy came along with his friend.

"What's your name?"

The boy stared blankly at him, before opening his mouth. The boy's tongue had been cut.

Roxas schooled his face to not react.

"Suhail." His friend replied instead, "And I'm Nabil."

Roxas nodded, pulling out a piece of paper and jotting down a room number. "Cabin number 103," He announced, loud enough for everyone to hear. It was the room of a soldier travelling with his family on vacation. Roxas knew him well enough to know he would help them. "You'll find a man who will help you." He wrote down the manager's name, circling it three times before handing it over to the boy. "Give him this paper and don't let anybody else see you."

He waited until every last child followed after the boy before he went to the next compartment.

Fifty-seven children. That's how many children were being trafficked through this civilian ship. He sent them all to the soldier, waiting until he got confirmation that the soldier had received them all before he went to look at the rooms carrying the remaining smuggled crates.

Room 187 was where they had been placed. The cylindrical light Min had crafted for him cast a warm glow around the room as he walked around the tall maze of stacked crates, the wood stained with oil and grime. The floor creaked with every sway of the ship, the rhythmic sound muffling his steps. With the paper he'd stolen from the manager's room, he searched for the faintly circled crates.

Crate number 136 was too high up for him to reach for alone.

Roxas had always been a soloist. He preferred to do his missions alone, for having a partner was more trouble than helpful in most cases. But in times like these, he wished he had a teammate at his beck and call. At least then he wouldn't have had to bite the cylindrical light between his teeth and climb six crates up.