Welcome Home
"A star… Never really dies, right? She just… Waits for he—"
They were the last words Freesia heard before the world exploded in front of her. There was no way anyone could have seen it coming. The mission was to search and clear the building – they were just doing their job. By the same token, though, the Imperials were just doing theirs – and they'd done it better. As the door Edy threw open swung on its hinges, the S-Mine's trip wire came with it. There wasn't any time to get out of the way. All the young starlet could do was stammer before the explosive jumped into the air and shot its deadly payload into the two womens' position at the door. Freesia was left half conscious on her back before she realized something had gone very wrong. Even though she was delirious and bleeding out, she'd later have to admit she'd been lucky; the metal balls from the mine had torn through Edy like they'd shot through the paper thin drywall next to them. She'd never made it to the ground.
Freesia had made it to the ground though, and at the moment that was all that mattered to her. Even if she'd known her friend was dead next to her it would have been a secondary concern. All she cared about at that moment was staying alive. That concern didn't last long either though. It seemed as if as soon as she'd closed her eyes the room had shifted around her. Fina was over her now. She had grabbed her by the back of her gear and had begun to drag her across the floor. Another blink later and there was another body across the room. Freesia wasn't conscious enough to tell who it was. She couldn't even remember who'd gone into the building with them, let alone what unit she belonged to. All she could remember was dancing. Dancing and swans. She'd only ever seen the animals once, back when…
The thought was lost with the next blink. Fina was gone now. Instead, the medic kneeling above her now wore a suit of armor. Who still wore suits of armor? It was 1935 for goodness sake. And why was he touching her? Struggling, Freesia tried to bring her hands up to fight the man off. Somehow her arms suddenly weighed a tonne. Still, she couldn't just let him do whatever he wanted. She had to fight him off before she passed out again. Focusing all of her strength into her arm, Freesia willed the limb to push the man away. She felt a finger move. The arm stayed put. All she needed was a little more push. Just a little more power and she could…
Blink. There were more suits around now. They stepped in and out of her view. Every one of them looked the same, so there was no telling how many there actually were. The one who was kneeling above her was still there, but now he had some sort of metal instrument in his hand. It dropped out of view as he brought it down towards her stomach. Freesia still couldn't get her arm to move. Her finger wouldn't even budge this time. That didn't seem to matter to her anymore. Whatever tool the man in armor had been bringing down drove into her stomach, and the cool metal burned as it made contact with the skin he was prodding. It was painful, but the uncomfortable searing the device brought with it seemed distant. Even his hand on her stomach felt like it was supporting itself on someone else. The man might as well have been working on another body for all Freesia could tell. Nothing felt urgent or close – except for a sudden bump on her shoulder. Whatever had just hit her was definitely close. It didn't seem to have anything to do with the man in armor. In fact, it almost didn't seem real. It almost felt like…
Jerking, Freesia's eyes shot open and took in the sights of the bed of the dimly lit transport truck. The canvas covering blocked all view of the world outside, and what she could see within the fabricated event horizon wasn't particularly uplifting. Prisoners sat shoulder to shoulder on the benches lining the sides of the bed. Most of them were asleep, but every so often her gaze would fall upon one who was sitting in silence. She couldn't tell whether they were lost in thought or just waiting for the ride to end. Either way, they were all stuck in the same situation. Nobody could get off the transport until the armed guards who sat in the middle of the large vehicle and behind the truck's cabin gave the order.
Once her eyes adjusted to the dim space of the transport vehicle, Freesia realized what the heavy thump on her shoulder had been. The prisoner next to her had dozed off, and in her sleep she'd slumped over onto the Gallian at her side. The snoozing woman hadn't noticed that she'd woken Freesia up. It wouldn't be fair for Freesia to blame her, but she was too tired to care about fair. Pushing the woman with her shoulder, she watched the other prisoner's head loll for a moment before falling over to the other side, landing on the shoulder of the other prisoner she'd been sandwiched between. He didn't wake up either. Fitting.
With a long groan Freesia shifted in her seat. As she settled into position, she noticed a slight discomfort in her stomach. With her hand, she checked to make sure the bandages that had been placed over her wound were still holding. They were. She'd already known the injury wasn't the problem though – it was motion sickness. No matter where Freesia was sent, she'd always felt sick on the way there. Boats, trucks, trains… They were all the same as far as her stomach was concerned. Even before she'd been transferred to reconnaissance and worked as a motor vehicle operator she'd been out of commission within minutes if she wasn't the one behind the wheel. Luckily, she'd gotten into the habit of making sure she sat next to the rear flap on the trips to and from the prison camp. Though they weren't happy about the special treatment, the other prisoners were more than willing to let her take the seat. It had only taken them twice to realize that refusing her the position didn't end well for anyone. Nobody was particularly eager to go for round three.
The heavy canvass flap slid through Freesia's hands as she pushed it aside and stuck her head out the back of the truck. It would have been tempting to jump out and make a run for it, but at the speed the vehicle was moving it wouldn't be likely that she would be in any condition to make a run for it after hitting the ground, let alone make a crawl for it. Even if she survived the drop the armed guards would stop the vehicle and shoot her on the spot, no questions asked. She'd never seen it happen with her eyes, but Freesia had heard it once. The distant sound of a machinegun was almost lost under the dull thuds of her hammer. Word of what had happened took two days to spread to her, and after that Freesia had no desire to attempt an escape of her own. Freedom may have been the one thing she desired most, but she figured it would be tough to enjoy that freedom if she were dead. Whether through a Gallian victory or not, the war would have to end someday, and when it did she'd be free to go. Until then it was a waiting game.
The sun had set, and the night was dark. Looking up, Freesia could see a number of stars where there were breaks in the clouds. The bright points in the sky broke through in clusters, each one separated from the others by the coverage above. It wasn't much of a view. Bringing her gaze back down, Freesia looked out in the distance for a landmark. All she needed was to visualize her movement. The fresh air was great, and her stomach was already starting to settle a bit as compared to what it was in the sardine tin of a transport. What would really help, though, would be to see that she was moving. She searched the horizon for a moment, but it didn't do her any good. It was too dark to see anything except for the road behind her, only visible in the headlights of the following truck. The road wasn't perfect, but it was better than nothing, and within a couple of minutes Freesia was able to bring her head back behind the flap without instantly feeling like she was going to throw up all over the back of the truck.
Nothing had changed while she had her head outside the back of the canvass. Those who were still awake still sat and waited, and those who were asleep still dozed through the journey. Looking to her left, Freesia saw that the man sitting next to the sleeping woman she had pushed had himself toppled over, and the two leaned against one another, each keeping the other from falling flat. If they hadn't been covered in dirt, sweat, and grime it might have been cute. Instead, it just reminded Freesia of how dirty she was herself. There wasn't a clean face in the truck, and in the confined space it certainly smelt like it. Not wanting to get sick again, she rested her head back. If she could doze it off then everything would be alright. Making sure she wouldn't fall over herself, Freesia readied for sleep and closed her eyes.
When she opened her eyes again she was in a bed. A real bed. With sheets and a blanket. That didn't happen too often anymore, and whenever it did she had to savor the moment. Freesia wasn't sure how she got there, but that wasn't exactly a new experience either. She knew how to deal with that by now – just follow the checklist. Am I the only one in bed? Check. Was someone there before? Nope, it's a single. Do I check out OK? Yeah, I'm just –
Freesia's attempt to sit up was cut short by the stabbing pain in her stomach. Before she had made it half way up she dropped back down into the mattress. It wasn't nearly as graceful as she'd hoped. Pain wasn't particularly conducive to grace, she'd come to realize. Luckily, nobody else could have seen it. Her bed was surrounded by a large, white curtain. Freesia could hear people moving around on the other side, but she couldn't see anything through it. Until somebody decided to come get her it didn't seem like she was going to be able to get up and look for herself either. The pain in her stomach told her she was in a field hospital. Someone would be by to check up on her shortly. Shortly wasn't too far off.
Parting the curtain, Fina stepped through and walked up to Freesia's bed. Smiling, she took a seat in the one chair available. "Are you alright?" she asked.
"As alright as it comes, I guess." Freesia had tried to get a glimpse of the room beyond the curtain as Fina had moved past it, but the corpsman had only parted it enough to step through, and she had closed the gap behind her before advancing on the bed. "What happened?"
"The outpost we were checking out was still occupied. Imperial special forces. You walked into a mine. Luckily we were able to save you. We almost weren't."
"So we made it?"
Fina smiled, but she didn't look happy. "Yeah," she said. "We made it."
Lifting the blanket off of her, Freesia took a look at the damage the mine had done. Sliding the hospital gown up her stomach, she cringed when she saw the large bandages that wrapped around her waist. She wouldn't be wearing her dancing dress anytime soon, if ever again – at least if she wanted to turn a profit. "How long was I out?"
"About 16 hours. We pulled out as soon as you and Wavy were cleared to move. If we'd have waited any longer I don't –"
"Wait," Freesia interrupted. "Wavy got hit?"
"Yeah." Turning her head, Fina seemed as if she were trying to look through the curtain herself. "He's in the men's ward right now. They know what they're doing there. He's in good hands."
"That's good." Having checked herself out, Freesia slid the hem of her gown back down. There wasn't anything left to do about the wound except for let the doctors take care of it. "How's the rest of the squad?"
Fina sat for a moment before answering. "We're it," she said dropping her head.
"What do you mean?"
Raising her head, Fina looked Freesia in the eyes. "Nelson and Dufor are dead. I don't know what happened to the rest, but it didn't look good."
Freesia's mind drifted back to the battle. Edy had been in front of her. She must have gone down when the mine exploded. Probably took the brunt of the blast. If Edy hadn't been standing in front of her, she probably would have been killed herself. That left Dufor. She must have been the second body. As it settled in, Freesia was left with nothing to say. "Oh."
"Yeah."
"So where does that leave us?"
"We uh…" Fina started reluctantly. "We should probably talk about that…"
"York."
Once again, Freesia was pulled out of her slumber. This time her eyes didn't jerk open. They slowly came apart until she could barely make out the fuzzy silhouette in front of her. "Hm?" she said groggily.
"York, scoot over. I need some air."
Though it was too dark to make out any features on the silhouette, Freesia recognized the voice. Colin Walsh – Prisoner identification number 505, former soldier of the Atlantic Federation. Without bothering to respond, Freesia saddled herself over and made room for the man next to the canvass flap. In order to make the space, she had to push the sleeping woman next to her further away from the back of the truck. She stirred a bit, but she didn't wake. Whoever she was, she slept like a dead man.
Once she'd made herself comfortable again, Freesia tried to catch a peek out of the truck's flap as Colin got his air. She couldn't see much, but what she did see didn't look any different than what she'd seen before. "Anything out there?"
"Nah," the man said as he pulled his head back in. "Just the road. I don't care a whole lot about the view right now though. It smells like something died in here."
Freesia glanced over towards the woman next to her. "Wouldn't surprise me."
"No." Making himself comfortable, Colin rested his head against the siding of the truck. "I guess it wouldn't."
Though he was from the Federation, they were both prisoners of war. That distinguishing trait came first. Just before they'd left for Marberry, Federation troops stormed Randgriz in disguise and attempted to abduct Princess Cordelia. At the time Freesia had sworn never to forget about the Federation's deceit, but after the first couple of weeks in a mixed camp that never had come and gone. All told, the Federation prisoners weren't all that bad. There were a couple here and there that could use a beating or three, but there were a couple of Gallians she knew that could use those beatings as well. At the end of the day a prisoner was a prisoner, regardless of whose army he or she had served before being captured.
Although she didn't particularly mind the company, Freesia was surprised to see the man in her truck. He'd been in the group working the machinery with Fina, and she hadn't seen the other woman board the truck she was in. "Hey Walsh," Freesia said, "You see where Fina went?"
"Yeah. She's in one of the other trucks with the rest of the guys. There wasn't enough room for all of us so we split down the middle."
"Well, at least she won't be wanting for company."
"No, she won't," Colin said with a laugh. "Mary hopped in next to her when I left. You know how that woman can talk."
"Ouch. Stuck next to Chatty Cathy for the ride back. I can't say I'm jealous."
"Not at all. Poor girl probably hasn't slept a wink."
"Probably not." Smiling, Freesia looked over at the man who'd taken her spot. It was still way to dark to make out any distinguishing features. While she was sad to see her spot go, she knew that if she needed to Colin would let her get to the flap before she made a mess of the truck. That freed her up for more important things. "I'm going to see if I can't get a little more sack time." She said. "Wake me up when we get there."
"Will do."
It really didn't matter whether he woke her up or not. If it wasn't him, it would be the guards. One alarm clock was as good as the next. Colin was likely to be more delicate though. Forgetting about both the guards and the man, Freesia tried to focus on something nice before drifting off. Those swans had been nice. They'd danced in the water, sending splashes and ripples in all directions before taking off into…
It had been four weeks since she'd first gone down. Freesia was walking again, but she still hadn't fully recovered. That didn't seem to be an issue though, as the doctors who'd taken care of her had cleared her for discharge. Almost immediately after she'd regained consciousness, the three Gallians had been transferred deeper into Imperial controlled territory. The first move was the worst. Freesia's wounds were still fresh, and the jostling around she'd done on the way to the second hospital couldn't have been the best thing for her. She could only imagine how the experience had gone for Wavy.
Despite the haphazard nature of their early care, however, both Wavy and Freesia soon began to recover, and four weeks after being hit they were on their way into the Imperial Alliance proper. The journey itself wasn't terrible. Freesia had no idea how long the trip was, or how far into Imperial territory they were going, but the roads were wide open and the air was fresh. Although she was going against her will, the Empire would be the first foreign territory Freesia stepped foot in. If nothing else, there was an undeniable thrill about that. Every look at her escort, however, reminded her of why she had to go, and every ounce of excitement dripped out of her and was replaced by a sick, hanging dread. While they didn't wear their helmets when off of the front line, the Imperial soldiers still wore their combat body armor when outside of the Empire. It was hard enough for Freesia to look at the armor. It was even harder because their escort was the same unit that had captured them.
If circumstances had been different, they might not have been bad guys. Their medic had saved her life, after all, and even the riflemen of the unit were friendly and cheerful. Not one of them abused Wavy because of his Darcsen heritage. By the end of their journey together, Freesia had almost forgotten that these were the same people who had killed her friends. Almost.
The group's destination turned out to be a small city just across the Imperial border. Heading straight through town, the group was marched into the train station. Moving them forward, the Gallians' escort pushed them into line full of other people in uniform. Every one of them was Gallian. While the majority of the uniforms belonged to the Militia and the Army, every once in a while Freesia could pick out a Navy or Royal Guard uniform. The number of prisoners at the station was staggering, but Freesia had to admit that she was glad that they weren't alone. She watched as each uniform moved in and out of the crowd until she was slowly pushed towards the front of the line herself. At a small desk, an Imperial official documented the identities and destinations of everyone moving through the station. Five minutes after reaching the desk, Freesia had her train number and destination – H394. It didn't mean anything to her, and probably never would, but at least she had a concrete end point now. Fina followed her through a few minutes later.
The official dropped his pen when Wavy walked up to the desk. "You're in the wrong line," he said. "This one's for prisoners. You want that line over there." With his finger, the man pointed out a second line. Across the other side of the station, Freesia hadn't seen it before the man had pointed it out. Nobody was wearing a uniform in that line. They weren't soldiers either. Every one of them was a Darcsen.
"I was told to register here."
"Here? Right here?"
"Yes, sir," Wavy said.
Sighing, the official laced his fingers and placed his hands on the desk. Carefully, he looked over Wavy's uniform before glancing up at his hair. "Who told you that?"
"My unit's escort. Their Captain said that–"
"Well I'm telling you that your line is over there." Once more he picked up his pen. "I can't help you here."
Looking over at the other line, Wavy hesitated. There was only one place a line like that would end up. "Where are they going?" he asked. He already knew, but he had to hear it from the official.
Annoyed, the man behind the desk threw his hands up in the air. "They're going where you're going. That's the line for your people. This one is for POWs. If you have a problem with that you need to take it up with somebody else, because I can't help your kind here. Now get the fuck out of my line and register at your own desk."
Wavy unconsciously took a step back. "I…"
"No," the man yelled. "I don't want to hear anything from your mouth but 'Yes, sir!' If you can't do that then–"
"Is there a problem here Lieutenant?"
The man looked away from Wavy and towards the new speaker. It was the Captain who'd brought them in. "I was just–"
"I assume you were just registering this man for the POW camps."
"Of course, sir."
"Good. Make sure he gets through." Before turning around, he placed his own hands on the man's desk. "Everyone in a uniform goes to the POW camps, regardless of heritage. If I ever hear of anything different happening here I'll have you investigated personally."
"Yes, sir!" Visibly sweating, the man picked up Wavy's papers and handed them over. "I'm sorry for the mix up. You're free to go through."
H394. Taking a quick once over of his papers, Wavy turned his attention to the other line. "Sir… Where's that line going?" he asked the Captain.
The Captain took his own look at the line. Grunting, he quickly averted his eyes. "Your train is on platform 4. The guards will take you from there." After a quick nod, he turned around and left.
Joining Fina and Freesia in the area past the line, Wavy put a hand on each of their shoulders and pushed them forward. "What was that about?" Fina asked as a pair of guards escorted them to their platform.
"Nothing," he lied.
Stepping onto the platform, Freesia viewed the surrounding area. There were a number of other Gallians with them, but the majority of the prisoners had been sent to other camps. It was a bit lonelier now that many of them had gone. Nervously, she shifted her attention towards the train. Just looking at it made her stomach turn. The train was the only way to their destination though, and the armed guards at her back ensured that – like it or not – she would be on it. Freesia took one last look at a free city before boarding the train that would take her to prison.
A bright light shone into the bed of the truck. As Freesia awoke, she noticed that the truck had stopped. That could only mean one thing. With a large flashlight, one of the uniformed Imperials made sure that the prisoners in the vehicles were ready to disembark. Every one of them had been ready even before they'd gotten on in the first place. Next to her, Colin rubbed his eyes and stretched his arms. So much for a delicate wake up. "We there already?" he asked.
"Home again, home again." Stepping around the Federation soldier, Freesia pushed the canvass cover out of the way and hopped out of the transport vehicle. It was still a dark night, but the lights of the prison camp kept the area surrounding the prison walls well lit. Anybody who tried to run would stand out like a sore thumb. That didn't matter to Freesia at the moment. She didn't have the energy to run anyway. Somewhere within those prison walls was a bed with her name on it. Anything else she could possibly have to worry about could wait until tomorrow.
