Chapter 9
The man knew about the rebels. Everyone did. But nobody spoke of them. In their world it was the last secret that was worth keeping: the secret of men and women willing to sacrifice all in an attempt to free their world. It was the one thing that gave the population hope.
But the man had long since realised it to be nothing more than empty hope. What would it prove to overthrow the Ministry? Water would still be scarce and people would still die. He was honest enough to know that though it did not always seem fair from the dirt of their community, the Ministry was doing its best. In fact, without it the people would probably have long since squandered the last water.
At the end of his hope, he now neared the building rumoured to he the hideout of the rebels. The building was as dirty and drab as the rest of the city – as far as hope went, it did not offer it just by looking at it. And, if what the other rumours spoke of were true, it will not offer hope on the inside.
Finally he knocked on the dark wooden door. As he did small flecks of stone and mortar fell from the wall around the door. The earth tremors must have damaged the old building and for a moment he wondered why he even came here. Even if he could beg some water from them today, where would the water of tomorrow come from? And why beg water when the entire world was shaking itself apart?
A man with dark eyes and a dirty beard opened the door with a scowl.
"What do you want?" he demanded. Though they might be rebels fighting for the people, it had been rumoured they had little time for the problems of the people.
Looking as pathetic as he could – which was not difficult – he bowed his head as he spoke: "Please, sir, my daughter is dying. Please, could you spare me a drop of water? Please?" he added for good measure.
The dark eyed man glared at him in mute scrutiny for a moment. Finally, obviously deciding he could not be bothered with the pleas for water, he laughed out loud, throwing his head back as he did so. After a few moments his merriment abruptly ended and he once more scowled at the man begging for the life of his daughter.
"We have no water. What do you think we are fighting for?" he sneered. As he slammed the door shut, he shot a final parting shot: "Go beg from someone who can help you."
With the slamming of the door more pieces of mortar and stone fell down around him in mockery of the rain this planet had not seen in years and yearned for every day. Dejectedly he turned around and slowly made his way back towards his house, intending to at least be with his child when she finally died. And then he will die.
The sound of booted feet momentarily pulled him from his stupor. Familiar with the way the Ministry troops acted, he carefully stood aside to let the men pass. It was only as they drew level with him that his eyes fell on the boots of the men passing. Though the boots were obviously made for comfortable walking and protection, they were of foreign design. Slowly he raised his eyes to look who it was that was sharing the alley with him.
A few of the men he knew: they were the men that had come here a while back and now mostly led the resistance. But added to the group were four others he did not know. One was dressed similar to the Satedans that had joined the rebels. But the other three were different. For a start, they all wore similar outfits – a uniform of some kind, he surmised. As they passed one of the men's eyes met his. In the shadows of the alley he could not see what colour they were, but he could see the anger smouldering in them. In that instant he realised this was a man that would never stop fighting for what he believed in.
And then the group had passed and he found himself strangely alone in the alley. Looking up at the dark, dirty clouds that never brought rain, he came to a decision. Like the man he had just seen, he, too, would not give in for as long as his daughter still drew breath.