Planatae

Found

Ricardia very quickly fell into a rhythm of sorts during her imprisonment. Food and water would come periodically, and spaced between such visits were the doctor's appearances. He would bring her to the lab for more samples - blood, hair, skin - and once, he even had her exhibit her Factor under close scrutiny by the Purists.

In the long, idle hours in-between, she thought about the Sandroom and Dani. With a touch of dark humor, she wondered if the woman was out looking for her, even if it was just in effort to reclaim lost profits. Sometime's Sana and her sister would flash across her mind as well, and Ricardia felt a pang of regret and loneliness. She hoped they didn't think she'd run away, not after all the kindness they'd shown her.

Despite her inhibitions, she'd grown accustomed to the woman's presence over the last few weeks; enjoyed sharing stories from Cadaem and cracking jokes during their breaks at the Sandroom.

She'd always drag her mind away from those memories, raw and fresh as they were. It was that comfort - that sense of fitting-in - that had trapped her. She'd lowered her guard, and it had led to disastrous results. Now, she'd have to deal with the consequences.

Things so far were, at best, bearable. But she'd seen the scalpels during her visits to the lab, felt the constraints of the chair's bindings whenever she was forced into the chair. If Ito didn't get the results he was looking for, she asked herself, what would that mean for her?

But then, in the doldrums of her caged existence, something happened.

...

It was pure luck that Ricardia was between lab visits, and so she was in her cell when a faint, pulsing noise leaked through the walls, just loud enough for her to hear.

It had the consistent thrum of an alarm, or something similar, and the thought gave life to a long-dead kernel of hope. It could have been a week - a month, even - since her capture, and her soul had grown cold and hard. But this brief hint of excitement warmed her for the first time in a long time, and she clawed at the heat, coaxing the rage and fury to come rushing back.

But as the noise droned on, nothing happened. There was no team of rescuers, no hero arrived to tear down the impenetrable door.

Ricardia, suddenly frustrated by her lack of autonomy, began to pace the cell like a caged animal. She knew, somewhere beyond these four walls, that something was happening. A sixth sense set her hair on edge, encouraging her to hold on to her baseless hope. But the rational part of her mind clamored at her. It told her to let go of her delusions, to let the deep longing of freedom slip through her fingers. She needed to steel herself, prepare for the potential horrors ahead-

With a deep, resounding crack, the door of her cell began to grind upwards. A few moments later, and a bewildered Ricardia could see directly into the prison's central room, which was filled with a cacophony of light and noise.

Tentatively, as though walking on unfamiliar limbs, Ricardia stumbled out into the open. She peered around her, certain that this was a trick - that she would be apprehended at any moment. But there were no Purits - only a handful of figures also emerging from cells just like her own. These men and women's hesitation mirrored Ricardia's own trepidation.

With a jarring clank, all the doors had completely folded away. From the room's adjoining hallways, through the alarm's din, Ricardia caught snatches of sound - exclamations of prisoners in the distance. An image rose to her mind: spaces upon spaces lined with prisoners, all suddenly given the chance to escape. She wondered, with not a little glee, what sort of chaos might have suddenly been unleashed.

How many of us are there? She wondered, and compassion drove her to step towards the others. But she was stopped in her tracks by a particular strain of voices, one's that were growing louder as they approached. They could have been fellow prisoners, seeking the others out - but they could also be Purists, hoping to exact damage control.

She couldn't take the risk - couldn't allow herself to be captured again - and so with a twinge of guilt, Ricardia raced past the others, barrelling down the opposite hallway. Hopefully, she could keep ahead of any Purists and find the exit.

...

Erin strode straight into the prison with no hesitation.

"EMP was successful!" she shouted into her feed. "Return to the ship and cover our retreat." Not for the first time, Luka felt a tiny surge of appreciation, knowing she was speaking aloud for his benefit.

At a much slower pace, he followed her inside, his gaze sweeping across the space. In the monitors bolted next to each now-open cell, he watched as prisoners rose from floors and crept forward, their movements lethargic and wary.

Although he slowed to a crawl at the sight, Erin continued to surge forward, heedless of the now-frantic people that scrambled at the sight of her.

"Shouldn't we help them...?" He trailed off almost immediately, her glance backward at him enough to answer.

But her face seemed to soften after a moment. "We did what we could - set them free. Now they've got a fighting chance." She turned back around, the conversation over.

He couldn't do anything except follow her further into the prison complex. Still , Lukas tried to avoid looking directly at the ex-prisoners. The Purists are looking for us, he thought, but they'll find them first. Is that why his mother had opened all the cells - to provide them a distraction? He hoped not.

They passed through rooms that seemed to blur together, all copies of the same cell-cluster layout. While some of the clusters were filled with slowly-emerging inmates, others were completely empty, cells open and bare.

It wasn't long before they encountered Purists again, guards armed with stun-guns and staffs that buzzed with the same electric power. Lukas' Factor was at its limit, so he had to depend on Erin's sharpshooting to clear the way. At one point, she offered him a dropped stun-staff to protect their rear as they continued deeper into the warren.

At one point, they turned a corner and Erin suddenly charged ahead, barrelling towards a pair of Purists that were blocking the hallway. It only took a few moments for her to incapacitate them, and with the passage cleared, Lukas noticed they'd encountered something different; a doorway, less militaristic than the others - clearly not a cell.

He stepped carefully around the groaning bodies, and joined her in front of it.

"This is it," she said, and stepped closer, scrutinizing the panel affixed to the wall beside it.

But Lukas' attention was on the two Purists. It was strange to have found them posted in front of such a nondescript door.

"They don't put up much of a fight," he muttered to himself.

"The Purists aren't a military group," Erin must have overheard him. "They weren't expecting an assault, and they don't have the caliber of tech to quickly counter a threat." She quickly got to work on the control panel next to the door. "Thanks to their stance on Factor-borns, that's another advantage they've lost."

A few moments later, Erin hissed through her teeth, clearly frustrated. "The room's power is running on a closed-circuit, separate from the rest of the compound. That's why it didn't open."

Lukas was about to propose a tentative offer to take another pill when the door shot open on its own. Both him and his mother scrambled backwards, fearing an attack, but a flustered-looking man emerged, hand held high before him.

"Don't shoot! Don't shoot!" He was wailing, panic in his voice.

Erin stood up straight, and Lukas could almost see the tension flood throughout her body.

"It's you," she said. Then, directed at her feed: "we found the target. Rendezvous at the ship." Quick as lighting, her attention was back on the man. "Dr. Malachite Ito, my name is Erin Ademas. I've been sent here to retrieve you and offer sanctuary."