Helotry

Chapter 5

Tréy groaned; the throbbing in his chest a constricting band of pain. He opened his eyes and blinked up at the gray ceiling of a jail cell.

"Prisoner-452 awake," a sentrybot announced in its nasal voice. Footsteps ricocheted down the corridor. Tréy swung his feet off the pallet, forcing himself into a sitting position, despite his body's protests.

"Fine mess you're in this time," Sera said as she swiped her access card and entered the cell. "What the hell were you thinking?"

"Where is he?" Tréy asked once he'd worked his tongue free from his palate. His mouth was a desert, as arid as Thiaki. At least they'd given him a clean t-shirt, gray and itchy as it was.

"In holding. Waiting for the paperwork before they take him off-world."

"Off-world?"

"He's a Thiaki. He'll be tried there according to their system."

"Thakkan," Tréy corrected. He glared at his sister. She leaned against the opposite wall with her arms folded.

"Thakkan. Fine. It's out of our hands now," she said.

"Could I get some water?"

Sera tossed him a bottle, and when he'd slaked his thirst, Tréy continued. "There's no justice system on Thiaki. Are Kishari police really that naive?"

"The extradition order is in place."

"You know what'll happen if they take him back. Summary execution. Some public spectacle to set an example." Tréy fought the rising tide of vomit and swallowed another mouthful of water. He didn't want to imagine Darik back in chains, at the mercy of those who'd already left him scarred.

"Slavery is legal. This is the way it is. I can't do anything about it."

"Yeah, and who cares anyway, right? Just a bunch of natives, barely human." His voice hitched up with anger and desperation as guilt needles his insides. Before he met Darik, he'd been exactly the same, never sparing a thought for how his family earned its fortune, never mind the unscrupulous industry it supported or the Thakkans subjugated and treated like chatel.

"That's not fair, Tréy. If I had any kind of jurisdiction-"

"That's okay, Sera. Hide behind the politics and bureaucracy of it all. I'm sure you'll sleep better at night." Tréy poured the last of the water over his face and rubbed his eyes.

"Don't get so self-righteous with me, little brother. If Darik wasn't so good-looking, you would've left him where you found him."

Tréy bit his lip, silencing his retort. Sera was right. Tréy's usual MO involved picking up beautiful strays he could use for his art and turfing them out as soon as they proved troublesome or clingy. The realization that he was a pretty shitty human being hit Tréy square in the solar plexus.

"I have to do something," he said softly. Not that helping Darik would make up for all his past mistakes, but it would certainly be a step in the right direction.

"Perhaps you should be more worried about yourself," Sera snapped. "You're being charged with obstruction, aiding and abetting-"

"Yeah, whatever. Can I have my phone call now?" Tréy met her stare. Her lip trembled as she nodded and gave the order allowing Tréy access to the external comms network.

"I did all I could for you, Tréy. I put my career on the line for you. You're my brother. I only care..." She clenched her jaw, silencing the emotional tirade on her tongue.

"I'm sorry, Sera. I know you're only looking out for me. But I've got to do something to help him."

"Why?"

"Because my whole life is built on the exploitation of his people." His childhood spent in lavish mansions, his expensive arts education, his trust fund - there was nothing Tréy had earned for himself. He'd been sucking on a nassidium his entire life and now he was choking on it.

"You're taking this way too personally," Sera said. "It never bothered you before that Incarnadine, Inc. owned slaves."

"Made it should've," Tréy said, balling his hands into fists. "I've got to do something." Activating the comms device, he said, "Call Dad, mark priority one."

"Dad?" Sera asked, eyebrows raised. "You haven't spoken in ages."

"Time to change that." His father took a long time answering. Sera shook her head sadly, left the cell, and locked the door.

"Tréy. What's wrong?"

"Hi, Dad." Tréy took a deep breath before trying to explain.

"Let me see if I understand you correctly," his father said. "You want me to intervene on this slave's behalf because it's people like us who are the real problem?"

"Yes. We sit on Kishar blissfully and deliberately oblivious to the plight of a race we exploit for cash."

A moment of silence was followed by Dad's barrel-belly laughter. "That's absurd."

"What is?"

"That you think I have any sway at all. This slave ran away; the consequence of his crime is death. I can't change that. And selfish as ever, you got your sister mixed up it in it all, too."

Tréy ignored the barb and continued, "He wouldn't be a slave in the first place were it not for greedy Kisharis determined to strip the planet of nassidium." His words were steeped in vitriol.

"Don't be so sanctimonious, Tréy. You've spent your whole life spending my money in your hedonistic pursuits."

Tréy swallowed, the truth of his father's words curdled his blood with guilt.

"It's time I changed," he said softly.

More laughter.

"Please, Dad."

"Then go and join some activist group with a catchy acronym. Isn't that what you arty types do when you want to play politics?"

"Damnit Dad, I'm not asking for a miracle. I'm not asking you to liberate a hundred thousand slaves. I'm just asking for a stay of execution. Take him back, chain him up, do whatever it is you corporate gluttons do with these people, but just don't kill him." Tréy's voice broke. He listened to his father's measured breathing.

"Your naiveté never ceases to astound, son. It's not the corporations that want the slave executed. It's the Thakkan government. This situation is far more complicated than you can possibly understand."

"Please, Dad..." Tréy started, but the comms line went dead.

"What did he say?" Sera asked, stepping into the cell.

"Nothing helpful." Although the allusions to the problem being more complicated had Tréy's neurons firing mortar rounds inside his skull. If his own government was behind the execution order, Darik had little hope of a reduced sentence, never mind freedom.

"I'm sorry, Tréy."

Tréy shook his head and ran his fingers through his hair.

"Good news for you at least." Sera consulted a datapad in her hand. "The slave alleged he forced you to help him, so you've been fined fifty-thousand shars and will be placed on probation for six months."

"And you let him lie for me?" Tréy balled his fists until his nails were digging into his palms.

"You want me to tell them you willingly aided this convict? You want to spend three years in prison?"

"Fifty thousand shars." While he paid a mere fine, Darik would pay with his life.

"It's better than doing time." Sera joined him on the pallet and tousled his hair. "Come on kid, I'll take you home."

"This isn't over, Sera." It couldn't be. Tréy had to do something, even if it meant doing jail time. If it could save Darik's life and improve conditions on Thiaki, then it would be worth it.