Dara, Page, and the Secrets of the Multiverse

▷ 15.5

The hallway was silent when Page made it inside the prison wing. It took every ounce of her Senior Lieutenant rank to pull certain reconnaissance records about where the Laics stored all of the dissidents they captured. One of them must be Dara.

The Premier had chewed Page out that day, when she returned with a complete mission but with one less soldier. Page could have reasoned that Dara disobeyed a direct order, that she didn't respect Page as a leader, hence her capture. She could have, but it would prove her incapability to command respect and discipline among her team. It was a bittersweet mission. Erne got the bag to the Domain, with Lila and Fianhe on the rear. Page got back a little later, mostly because she was busy losing a tail from the facility until the edge of the Domain. A persistent one, that was.

But one thing remained clear: Dara was gone, taken by the Laics and stored elsewhere. The only saving grace left was that Dara's response to mana was weaker than average. She wouldn't get sent to the lab if that was the case. It was either the prison or the labor system. Page promised the Premier she would free Dara and a couple of other mystics imprisoned by the Laics. It was a perfect gateway to strike back on the Empire, and if it meant getting Dara back, Page would do her best.

That was how she ended up in the middle of a dark prison hall, sneaking her way past occupied cells in search of a familiar face. On her way, she took signal-jamming keys and threw them between the cells' bars. They would temporarily disable the security sensors and encourage the mystics behind them to start figuring their way out.

She arrived at the last cell on the block to find Dara's head bowed in silent defeat. Upon hearing her footsteps, the girl's head snapped up. "Page," Dara breathed, hurrying towards the rails just as Page threw a key into the cell. Then, she crouched by the ancient lock and started working. Dara joined her on the ground, eyes looking at her in question. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving your goddamn ass, that's what," Page answered through gritted teeth as she twisted the tools and popped the lock open. She bowed at Dara when she swung the cell door out. Next, she tossed the lock-picking tools to the next cell, looked at the trapped mystic in the eye, and gave them a brief nod. They understood the agenda, setting to work on their cell's lock.

Page led Dara past the length of cells, all the way back to where she punched a hole in the air pipes and snuck her way in. "Let me be clear this time," Page said as she climbed after Dara into the chute. "Do not disobey a word I say."

"And the things you do not say?" Dara prodded.

"Well, if it gets you killed, don't do it," Page replied.

A few minutes rolled by in silence and whispered grunts. They cleared the chute and dropped out into the back. Page stepped forward. A wide burst of light rained upon them, followed by a string of garbled words fed through an amplifier. Page gripped the rifle slung on her shoulder. Tanks milled about, all eager to catch the dissidents. Her mana rippled under her skin, equally eager to tear them to pieces. She glanced at Dara.

"Run," she said.

They burst forward, Page staying behind to cover Dara's tracks. Her mana wrapped around the soil underneath all that paved cement. With a grunt, she formed spires of rock, impaling unsuspecting Laics. Some smart ones wove around the jutting points, rifles raging to get a taste of Page's blood. Unfortunately for them, Page was a master mystic, not just a soldier. She whipped spell after spell, emptying her mana to the point of exhaustion. It didn't matter if she didn't make it. Dara must. The Premier liked her better than Page, anyway.

A bullet rammed straight into Page's defenses, shattering the last of her suit enhancement. Svitsvak. Not now. She flexed her fingers, drawing the clouds from the sky to flood the prison with thick fog. Then, she turned and ran, squinting through the haze in search of Dara. Come on. Where was that girl?

Movement from behind. Page whirled too late. A rifle fired, the sound reverberating throughout the entire field. A weight slammed into Page, pulling her down. They rolled on the ground, coming to stop on the spot beyond the prison gates. With the last of her magic, she bent the metal rails and swung them shut. The locks clicked in place. It would take awhile for them to climb up their own fortress.

"Dara, hey. Come on," Page said, shaking Dara whose entire body slumped all over her. "Get up."

The girl didn't move. Heart pounding, Page checked her more thoroughly. Dara's eyes were closed, her breathing shallow. Where...

When Page shifted, her hands pressed against a damp spot on Dara's back. What—

She drew her fingers to her face. They glistened with blood. Bright red against the strobe lights peppering the prison walls. No. "Dara, come on. Answer me," Page said, climbing out of Dara's weight and laying her on her back. Tears threatened to fall, but she blinked them away. She was a soldier, not a freaking diva. This was no time to cry. "Dara?"

Two fingers felt for the pulse. Nothing. Svitsvak. "Dara, wake up," Page said again. And again. The girl never answered. Just stayed there, motionless. "Dara."

Silence.

Footsteps came alive from the prison walls. Page glanced at Dara one last time before picking her up over one shoulder. "Let's get you home, darling," Page said more to herself than to the body she lugged with her.

She looked back at the prison walls, the towering buildings behind them, and everything this building and the people controlling it stood for. They would all pay. And Page would be the one who would bring their reckoning, even if it was the last thing she ever did.

Then, Page started walking to the place where she would get what she wanted—home.