The Fall of the Infinite Empire

by dentedpat

Many thousands of years before the events of KOTOR the Rakatan Infinite Empire dominates the galaxy, with no enemies on the horizon. But an uprising on the world of Korriban and the capture of a family on the world of Tatooine will set the stage for the Fall of the Infinite Empire and the rise of the Jedi Order and the Galactic Republic

3. Chapter 3: Into the City

The Fall of the Infinite Empire

Chapter Three

Myra stayed awake throughout the trip from the cave to the city. One by one her family fell asleep. They had been caught because they had not been careful, at least not nearly careful enough. It had just been so long living with the thirst. They had squeezed every last drop out of their little pond. When she had found it first, years before, it had been as though the gods had seen through the rock, through the darkness, and smiled down on them. It had not been the first time Myra had been blessed with fortune. She had found their first underground pond early in their life after leaving the Great Tribe. After years of being last to get water, and getting scraps of food, they had set out on their own, expecting to find water of their own in one of the cave systems that was supposed to be almost empty. Then had come day after day finding nothing. Those days of disappointment had followed the night they had made the terrifying trip across the open ground to move from one cave system to another. Then the days spent descending, getting as far from the cave mouth as they could, looking for water all the time. Myra, always the explorer even at her young age, had been the one to find it.

Of course, in the days before the invasion she would still count as young, she supposed. The old stories told of men and women living with their family for years after their coming-of-age ceremony, and only leaving to make their own homes and start their own families in their twenties. Myra's own coming of age was years in the past now, but she had started her family almost immediately after. Their own little tribe needed more members, but there would have been pressure to have children when they were part of the Great Tribe as well. Her children, asleep with their father and other relations in the vehicle with her, had not yet reached their own coming of age. Myra wondered now, looking at the tall buildings reflecting the city lights, whether she would ever get to take part in the ceremonies, to give her daughters their cloth, to give her son his gaderffi. If they could have just stayed put a little longer Sani, her oldest child, would have had her coming-of-age ceremony soon.

But the water had run out. In the past Myra had always been able to find more water by going deeper into the caves, but not this time. Myra knew the dangers of getting too close to a cave mouth. She knew the Rakatans and their droids patrolled up there sometimes. She had told her family, but they did not listen. And could she blame them? They had needed to widen the search. Hunger you can live with, for a long time if need demanded it of you. But thirst? So they had climbed, and they had been caught. One of Myra's cousins had been killed by the Rakatans. He had tried to run when he thought they were not looking. It had been a foolish thing to try. They never missed anything. Myra remembered kneeling there, the glass cutting into her knees, knowing she would not allow them to kill her children in front of her. She would go first; she would go down fighting. She had been ready. And then the strange Rakatan had arrived. The others had feared him. Myra could not tell how she knew it, but she did. That was no consolation of course. To see the monster that other monsters fear is not a cause for hope. But he had not ordered them killed. He had ordered them taken. Again she could not tell how she knew it, but she did. When she had re-assured her children that they were not going to be killed, her mate, Tytus, had agreed, but given her a look which she could tell meant he believed she was just trying to soothe them with lies.

It was odd, she thought to herself, that he was sleeping, and she was not. But, she thought, if you really thought you were going to die, you could give up. You wouldn't need to watch the path they took to the great city. After all, you wouldn't be going back that way, for you wouldn't be going anywhere. She knew that was how he thought. But she knew also that he was wrong. Of course, she did not know why they were being taken and not killed. Didn't the Rakatans kill everything? Everyone? Was that not the role the gods had given them? To punish the people for their sins, their pride? That was they always said, anyway. Her parents, her grandparents. Old people. The same ones that told stories of a life lived entirely in sunlight. A life full of colors Myra only knew the names of. Green. Purple.

Some didn't only hear about them from the old people though. In the daylight it was said all the colors would spring from the clearest shards of glass. Myra had friends who had made the trip to the surface in daytime, just to catch a glimpse. Sometimes they came back and when they did there was nothing they could say, except that it was beautiful. How do you tell someone about a color? But eventually they either stopped going or they stopped coming back. Myra had never, before the day they were caught, been to the surface in the daylight. A color wasn't worth the danger.

But water had been. And now they were here. Captured and not dead. Who knew why? Perhaps in the end it didn't matter. Myra hoped though, if they weren't going to kill her family, the Rakatans would at least give them water. Her little ones were so weak.

All through the night, while thinking about such things, Myra kept her eyes on the stars. No one could find their way through the dunes of crumbling glass. One heap of shards looked like any other, and besides, the wind blew them around too much to even try to memorize their locations. But the stars were true. So Myra had been told. She had of course never navigated by stars herself. She had only seen the full night sky twice. Once in the trip between caves, and then again tonight. But she had been told. Those were stories that had been kept alive. If you were ever out on your own, don't move at daytime, and when you moved by night, use the stars. There were shapes the stars made, people said. Shapes of animals Myra had never seen, that she would never see, because all that was gone. But she wasn't. Her children weren't. Not yet. So she kept her eyes on the stars, confident that she would get them out and get them home. She had trouble finding those animals in the stars, trouble even keeping track of which star was which. But that didn't matter. Watching the stars improved her odds, and that was what life was, playing the odds.

The vehicle they were in came to a stop at walls which separated two sections of the city. A city was where many people lived together, Myra knew. More people than a single tribe. More than many tribes. Her people had lived in cities when the Rakatans had come. Cities were where they had fallen into wickedness. The gods had watched and had brought down the invasion. Now there were no more cities of people, there were only cities of the enemy. But nonetheless the gods' anger seemed undimmed, because the Rakatans didn't seem to be going anywhere. This was what Myra had heard her entire life, but she had never quite believed it. Nothing those people did could have earned them what happened, and no god would let such a thing befall its people.

A door opened toward the front of their compartment. Myra had been in the back, so she could look out the window. She moved toward the front, putting herself between the door and her family. Tytus saw and moved to do the same. A Rakatan stepped up and into their compartment. He said a word in their harsh language which none of the prisoners spoke. But the Rakatan seemed to realize this because it gestured out the door. Her family looked unsure and turned to Myra, looking for her response. She extended her hand to help her son, Brun, up. Tytus did the same for Sani, and their youngest child, Corus. At this the rest of their family, the few of them there were, also began to stand.

This all was moving too slowly for the Rakatan apparently. More harsh commands followed. Myra didn't understand the words but was sure he was ordering them to hurry up. Tytus' parents were the first to make for the door. They were hesitant, obviously afraid, and trying to get a good look at what was outside the door before they left the compartment. The Rakatan lost its temper at this and pushed Tytus' father on the back and out the door. He then grabbed his mother by the neck and tossed her out too. This caused Myra's son to stop in his tracks, afraid to approach the Rakatan. But this further delay did nothing but increase the Rakatan's rage. He took a step forward and punched Myra's son in the stomach. At least that was what it looked like to Myra at first. Her son collapsed and fell to the floor. Myra covered him with her body, both protecting him and pulling him along. Her left arm was curled around his shoulder and her right arm wrapped itself around his midsection.

That was when she felt the blood. She looked up to see the Rakatan's clawed hand glistening red. It screamed and it was as though Myra could hear him saying 'You will be next!' Myra didn't know what to do about his injury, so she just pulled her son with her out the door to find Brun's grandparents on the ground, too scared to get up from where they had been thrown. Tytus and her daughters exited the vehicle behind her. Finally came Myra's young sister and her mate. Her parents and grandparents were long dead. They were all that was left, and now, now her son was bleeding onto the pavement. Myra was speaking softly to him, trying to calm him. It was a stomach wound. She had seen such wounds before. If left untreated and untended someone with that wound would die, and would die slowly. There was time, she thought frantically. If they could get him treatment he could live. She had to get him treatment, or figure out a way to do it herself. She had, as a child, seen the tribal elders treat people with wounds, but Myra was not sure she believed in their remedies anymore than their stories. It would have to be the Rakatans.

A voice inside her mocked her plans and hopes. Why would the Rakatans help save her son? They were killers?

They haven't killed us yet, she thought in response, and if they want us alive maybe they will keep him alive. She had to keep the despair away. Despair did nothing but slow you down, stop you from doing what was needed. Despair would not help her family, so Myra refused to acknowledge her despair. Nothing could get in the way. Nothing would.

Out of that cockpit of the vehicle they had been transported in stepped two more Rakatans. Myra looked at them and realized they were two of the guards who had caught them, including the one missing his eye. It's one eye made contact with hers and it looked down at her son. For a moment Myra thought the alien looked afraid. The one eyed Rakatan spoke, in the language she knew she could not understand, but which she felt more and more confident ascribing meaning to. He was expressing his fear. His fear about what the other guard had done to Myra's son. There were four other Rakatans present, the other guard from the cave entrance, the guard who had injured her son, and two others. Three of them began to make sounds that Myra was sure were laughter of some kind, though there was nothing she recognized as mirth or joy in the sound.

The other guard from the cave entrance, the one with two eyes, did not laugh though. He spoke. He was agreeing with the one-eyed guard, Myra felt. This seemed to anger the three laughing guards, who stopped laughing. They spoke quickly and sharply.

This disagreement came to an end when a sixth Rakatan arrived. Myra recognized him as well. He had been there at the cave. It was the one who was dressed so colorfully, with jangling bits of metal hanging absurdly from his bright and garish robes, not the one who had cut off the eye. The other guards went silent when he said, "The old man will be angry."

Myra could not tell why she felt so certain that this is what he had said. She could not tell why she thought she had any idea of what any of them were saying. None of her people could speak the Rakatan language. There were stories that some had once known how, after the invasion but before the rebellion. They had served the Rakatans and needed to be able to understand commands. But there had been so few, and most of them had been put to death during the rebellion. Those that would not take part in the rebellion put to death by their own people, those that would by the Rakatans. No one survived to pass on the knowledge. But Myra was sure that there was an old man, and that he would be angry at what had been done to her son. The little voice in her head told her it was wishful thinking, and for this trespass it was swiftly silenced.

She looked at the guard who had hurt him, and knew the alien was shaken, terrified in fact, again in a way she did not understand. The other guards' complaints had been met with scorn. The mention of the old man's anger had left the guard immobile. He was so scared he was frozen, like he was trying to remember how to move.

The brightly colored Rakatan, who was obviously not a guard, gave an order. The guards immediately began to move. They began to move Myra's family into a line, grabbing them by the elbows or the shoulders to do so. But the Rakatan's touch was far gentler now, as though she and her family were made of glass and might shatter if handled too roughly. One of them stepped towards Myra and her son. She instinctively pulled him closer, which made him moan and whimper. The brightly colored Rakatan made a kind of loud clicking sound, and the guard approaching her stepped back and stared at the ground. The brightly colored Rakatan turned to address Myra directly. Without a word being spoken it was as though Myra could hear the Rakatan saying "Come. Safety. Healing." Her son seemed to hear it too because he tried to move towards the Rakatan in colorful robes. His attempt at independent movement only lead to him falling down and shrieking in agony after he hit the ground.

Prone on the pavement as he was, the brightly robed Rakatan got his first good look at the injury. Its head turned to stare at the one responsible, whom it addressed with a hiss. "Not yours to spoil!"

So they belonged to some Rakatan, but not these ones, Myra thought. Maybe this old man. This old man who so terrified these monsters. Let him be as terrible as he wishes, Myra decided, so long as he saves my son. She bent down to pick him up, to carry him wherever it was they were supposed to go, when his body began to rise off the ground on its own. It was as though there was a blanket beneath him and there were people lifting from each corner. Except there was no blanket, and no people. He turned to his mother, and reached out one hand. He was crying. Not the tears of sadness, but the tears of terror. Myra stepped toward him and took his hand in hers. Then, suddenly, he stopped. His eyes closed and his arm went limp.

For a single, horrifying, second Myra was sure her son had died. "Not so suddenly" said the calm voice which had been dueling with the hopeless voice all night. However, that voice would not stand before the thousand screams Myra felt unleashed inside her, each an arrow headed towards that lonely hope. But she needed that calm voice. It was right. He didn't die. He wasn't dead. He needed her, and she needed the calm voice. The screams had to stop. So they would. And so they did. The arrows fell from the air, the screams were bottled up. Myra looked at her boy and saw the faint movement of his nostrils, the gentle rise and fall of his chest. He was breathing. He was asleep. She looked up at the brightly robed Rakatan, but he was not looking at her. He had one clawed hand hanging lazily in the air, as though he were holding a rope, the other end of which was tied around her son. And as the Rakatan walked, her son's sleeping form followed.

This was their magic. As though their great ships, and hulking, powerful bodies were not enough, the invaders were sorcerers. Myra had known this. She had been told all her life about it. They had just been stories she thought. But of course she had seen that magic a few hours before, when the spear had leapt from the one-eyed Rakatan's hand, when he had still been a two-eyed Rakatan. It had flown through the air and landed in the hand of the plain clothed Rakatan. Then the spear came down and the eye came off. It takes time to fully absorb new information of course. The invaders really did have magic. Myra knew it, but not deep down. Not in that part of your mind that takes over when you child is screaming for help that you cannot give him. But now she did. The Rakatan had lifted her son without touching him, was pulling him a long through the air, and he had put him to sleep.

Myra looked back at the others. They were following. Tytus and her daughters looked scared. She gave them a smile. Silently she mouthed "It will be alright." Again she could tell Tytus thought she was lying. Maybe she was. It didn't matter. It might be true. That was all she needed for now. The other Rakatans encircled her family. The one with the bloody claw did not walk with the characteristic grace of the others. Its steps were halting and uneven. Let the fear take you, Myra thought spitefully. Live in it for a while. Die with your mind full of it.

They walked for a long time. Myra could not tell how long. Watching her son as she walked behind him, she could see he was still breathing, and sleeping soundly. This was their magic. She hoped they had magic enough to save him. It was after having this thought that she realized she had forgotten the stars, forgotten to keep track of them. She looked around at the night sky and couldn't tell one shape from another. Most of the stars she had seen from the vehicle were missing now that they were in the heart of the city. Maybe she would remember them later, when she was calm, when her boy was well.

After that unknown amount of time the party came to a halt in front of a building. It was not the largest building she had seen in the city. Some of the buildings were as tall as the cliffs in which the cave entrances were found. This one was not. But what it lacked in height it made up for in breadth. It stretched so far in either direction that Myra could not make out where it stopped in the darkness of the night. For most of their trek the city had been illuminated by the lights coming from the buildings. But this one had only one light, and it was under it that they came to a stop. As far as Myra could tell the light showed nothing but a stretch of wall. But just as she began to feel the fear rise again within her at the delay, she saw the wall slide away.

Then they began to walk again, through the door and into a hallway. The hallway was blue, or maybe it was just the lights that were blue. Myra could not tell, nor could she tell where the lights were coming from. She did not know why she was wondering about such things when her son was bleeding out in front of her, and her whole family was being led around at spear point behind her. But, she reasoned, there was nothing she could do about any of that, and the mind will find things to occupy it. But since there seemed to be no way of telling where the lights were coming from, she hoped some other occupation would soon present itself

They turned so many times down so many identical hallways that Myra gave up trying to keep track. She was so tired. They had been travelling through the caves for hours before they had been captured, and they had waited, kneeling in the crushed glass for hours to await the brightly and plainly dressed Rakatans. It seemed odd to Myra that she was still in the day in which those things had happened. The weariness and the thirst were starting to push their way through the fear. She needed water and some sleep. And she hoped she would get them after her son was safe.

The party came to a stop as the hallway opened up into a large room. In the room were other things Myra had seen in drawings and heard about in stories, plants. It was not as though she had never seen plants, of course. In the larger underground lakes there were things that grew. Fungus and moss and algae. But these plants were those she had been told about, those that once covered the surface of her world. Tall brown centers, seemingly exploding green from their insides. Trees, she knew they were called. Splashes of bright colors, like the robes on the Rakatan whose magic carried her son, could be seen here and there. Flowers. And water everywhere. Pools of it. She could smell the water in the dirt out of which the plants grew. She could feel it in the air. It had hit her as though she were running into fabric. One moment the air in the hallway had been dry like the air outside, and the next the air had grown thick. The moment of fear that she couldn't breathe properly was replaced by the feeling that she was taking the first real breath of her life. The first, at least, that her body was made for.

In the center of the garden, another word from stories, stood another Rakatan, the plainly dressed one from earlier in the day. Myra thought, again with the feeling of certainty whose source she could not identify, that this was the old man. It, or Myra supposed, he, was standing with his hands behind his back, looking away from them and at the plants. He seemed to be considering something about them very deeply, for he did not move as they entered the garden, nor seem to acknowledge them at all. The brightly colored Rakatan, their leader through all of the twists and turns in the hallways, came to a stop a few feet from the old man, struck a rather grand pose, and waited to be recognized.

After a few more seconds of looking at the plant in front of him, the old man turned to consider the small parade that had disturbed his contemplation. His eyes moved quickly over all of them. Myra thought, though, that she detected the slightest pause as his eyes passed over her son. A few words were exchanged, quickly and quietly between the brightly dressed Rakatan and the one Myra thought of as the old man. She should stop thinking of him that way, she thought. He wasn't a man. He was a monster. It was just some silly idea she had caught hold of to call him that. Something else her mind had found to focus on.

But he did seem old to Myra, in a way the other Rakatans did not. If asked she would have said it was something about the way he stood, about the way he moved. Slow and smooth motions, as contrasted with the sharp and energetic movements of the guards and of the garishly dressed one that Myra could only assume was the old Rakatan's servant. The old man walked toward her and her son. As he did so her son, who had been lying more on his side during the walk, rolled onto his back, while remaining asleep. The movement had been so gentle that in a normal night Myra would have been unable to distinguish it from the normal rolling around her boy did while sleeping. But he had not moved on his own during their whole march through the city and building. This was their magic, used for the gentlest nudge.

The old Rakatan considered her boy for several seconds like he had been considering the plants. Myra thought at first he was simply inspecting the wound, but then the horrible thought occurred to her that he was considering whether her boy was worth saving. The fear rose again within her. While they had been moving she could tell herself that they were moving toward the solution, toward what would save him. But now was the moment of decision. Whatever reason they had for not killing Myra and her family immediately, did it extend to saving her son? Myra's breathing grew faster. She tried to control it but there was only so much you could do. And if her son was going to die, what did it matter if she lost control in front of the beasts who did this to him?

It matters for your daughters, she said silently to herself. Her daughters had marched every step she had, and they would need her. They would need her to be strong. And so she would be. There was nothing to do now but hope. She could not bargain with these monsters, and she could not convince them. All she could do for him now was hope, and so that is what she would do.

When Myra's gaze, which had been directed at her son returned to the old Rakatan, she found that he was looking at her, seemingly impassively. He turned to his brightly colored aide and nodded. Then, without another look at Myra or her family, he turned back to his garden. The brightly colored aide turned to his left and began walking out of the garden. Her son's body followed and so, of course did Myra. The Rakatan guards began to move with them, until the old Rakatan, without turning around said something, quite loudly, in their harsh tongue. All the guards' heads turned. The one-eyed guard and the bloody handed one who had gutted Myra's son stopped walking and turned to look at the old man, while the other three guards continued marching as they looked at the two Rakatans who were not.

Their slightly diminished group turned a corner and Myra lost sight of the old man. The old Rakatan, she reminded herself. There were more turns down the brightly lit blue hallways, and Myra briefly thought about trying to remember the way to the garden, until she remembered that she had already given up on finding the way back from the garden to the door which let them outside. She was not sure she could even open the door if she found her way back to it. The wall had just seemed to open up for them. Magic, she was sure. It was her fatigue getting to her, she knew. She needed to think clearly, she insisted to herself.

So Myra and the healthy members of her family trudged through the bright blue maze, until they reached another door, which again opened itself as if by magic. Beyond this one were two more Rakatans in a long room, working at tables. The brightly dressed aide called out something that felt to Myra like commands, though she felt less certain of what was being commanded, and the two new Rakatans leapt to their feet and came to her son. One of them reached out its clawed hand, and her son dropped a small amount in the air before coming to rest again, still levitating. Then the Rakatan turned and began to walk down the table in the long room, and her son's body followed. The brightly dressed aide, on the other hand, started marching away from the room, seemingly intent on Myra and her family following.

This was a foolish thing for the Rakatan to assume. Myra would later deny to Tytus that she had yelled, and she was partly right, since it had been more of a growl that escaped her throat as she moved towards the two Rakatans with her son, rather than away. There was no way she was leaving. The thought that this was the last moment she would see her son had found its way into her head, and she could not bring herself to disregard it. She would not allow herself to be separated from him. For a second Tytus and their daughters hesitated, and then followed her into the room, while the remaining members of her family waited outside. The two Rakatans who had taken her son seemed startled by what she had done. The brightly dressed aide on the other hand seemed incensed. Loud yelling in their horrible language followed Myra into the room. The two Rakatans in the room responded with raised voices of their own. Myra ignored them all and put her arms around her boy when she reached him. She stared defiantly at the nearest Rakatan as the yelling between the monsters continued. The second of the two Rakatans grabbed her arm and pulled her off, but as soon as it let go of her Myra went right back to her son.

At this the Rakatan who had pulled her off him simply hissed and turned its back. The Rakatan holding her boy moved its hand in the air and his body floated onto the table. The table had two benches connected to it on either side, and they were too wide for Myra to keep holding onto Brun. She started to climb over the bench but was pulled back, not by Rakatan claws but by Tytus.

"Look!" he said. She could hear the hope in his voice. She could hear her daughters crying. Had they been crying the entire time? Myra felt ashamed that she did not know the answer. But then she realized what Tytus had told her to look at. The Rakatan who had hissed at her was returning with a cylinder in its hands. It walked up next to Brun and pointed the bottom of the cylinder at his wound. A sound like a sharp exhale came from the cylinder and then so did a kind of twinkling liquid. The liquid was thicker than water, and it did not splash. It simply fell onto his stomach wounds. For a moment nothing happened. Then Myra could see, to her amazement, the bleeding stopped and the puncture points, where the guard's claws had cut into his flesh, began to close.

Myra just stared at her son as the wounds began to heal, seemingly on their own. She was aware the Rakatans were still speaking to each other, but she was not listening. Sani, her oldest, slipped her hand in Myra's and squeezed it. Myra did not immediately feel relief. Tension and anxiety do not leave promptly, and besides, Myra, thought, they were still captured. Corus, following her sister's lead took Myra's other hand, wrapping her small, delicate fingers around Myra's and together they watched Brun sleep. Tytus walked up behind and put a hand on each of his daughter's shoulders. The Rakatan who had applied the sparkling substance to Brun's wounds passed its clawed hand over his head and said a word. It sounded to Myra like 'restored.' That was foolish though, she thought to herself. It didn't sound like anything, except gurgling and barking all mixed together. She was tired, she thought, and so she was imagining things. And it was true she needed a good night's sleep. They all did.

And sleep seemed to be what was ahead of them. As it became clear that her son would be alright, she allowed her family to be lead once again down hallways. The brightly dressed aide no longer carried Brun in the air by magic. Instead they had woken him up with a slap to the face. Myra had stopped herself from lashing back at them for that, both because she did not want to press her family's luck in not having all been killed, but also because her boy was confused and disoriented.

"Momma…Momma…too bright…," he muttered weakly. Tytus picked him up, and arm beneath his knees and another cradling his head, and followed Myra as she walked with her daughters behind the absurd shimmering tunic and the even more absurd Rakatan inside of it. Another wall opened up before them. The room beyond was large and empty. The walls had little alcoves in them, long and narrow. They were beds. But not beds built for them. They were much longer than any bed for a person would need to be. These were beds for the Rakatans. This is where they slept. Or would sleep, if anyone was here. She and her family walked into the room and looked around. The light in the room was lower and softer than that in the hallways. The beds didn't look soft, exactly, but they would be softer than the floor. The door closed behind them, with the Rakatan on the other side of it. Only when it did so did Myra realize that they needed water. They had each had a small sip earlier in the day before setting out on their journey in the caves. There had been none after they were captured.

They would bring them water, Myra was sure. There was no reason to bring them all this way, and save her son, just to let them all die of thirst. Maybe in the morning there would be water. But for now, they all needed sleep. Her daughters pulled their hands free to go sit on the beds.

"We are just supposed to go to sleep?" Tytus asked, either less tired or less confident they would live through the night than she was. They had not spoken for the entire ordeal since arriving in the city. It was frightening to speak in front of the aliens. Who knew what would set them off? His voice was hoarse, both from weariness and thirst. Despite his question he placed Brun down on one of the beds.

Myra turned to him, put her hands on his forearms and squeezed them. He sometimes needed reassurance and help calming down. She was impressed that he had kept control of his anger this night. He had always bristled at being treated disrespectfully, a less obnoxious trait in him than it often was in others, given that he was always very conscientious to never treat others that way. It had been a characteristic that had gotten him in trouble back when they were children in the Great Tribe, where his family had been of marginal status. It had also drawn Myra to him. He had been a good choice for a mate Myra thought. Many would have done worse. Their eyes met and his worried expression met her softer one. She smiled at him.

"What else is there to do? Do you want to try to escape before they bring us something to drink?"

"Maybe we taste better dry," he whispered, so that the girls would not hear. Brun was asleep already. His dark humor was often not very funny, but Myra knew he wasn't trying to make her laugh. We all have our ways of keeping ourselves level, Myra thought. Myra let her hands slip down his forearms until they ended up in his.

"Nothing tastes better dry my dear, try though you might with the rats."

At that her daughters laughed, and Tytus smiled in spite of himself. The touch of banter had done the trick. Sani was obviously more relaxed after hearing her mother trade jokes with her father, and while Corus hadn't really been listening, she had been comforted by the sound of laughter. The release of tension, however, made the weariness feel more pronounced. The four other members of their family had already picked out beds for themselves and laid down, apparently so tired that the talking on Myra and Tytus' end of the room did not keep them up. There was nothing left but to try to sleep. Tomorrow might bring answers about what they were doing here. At the very least Myra hoped it would bring water.

But before they could go to their bunks, the doors opened again, and a droid came in. This was not like the droids in the caves, which were large, armed, and armored. This droid was no more than half Myra's height. It had no legs, but appeared to roll around on a single wide wheel at its base. It had approximately eight metallic arms protruding out from his slender trunk. At the top of its squat body was an orb with lights dancing across its face. In four of the arms were large jugs of water, clean and clear. Each of the jugs was almost as tall as the droid itself and a few feet in diameter. If these four jugs had been found by anyone in the caves it would have been a joyous thing. But tonight, in this odd place, all it occasioned by way of response, as the droid wheeled its way back out the door, was Corus, who, pulling at Myra's raged robe, looked up at her and asked, "Momma, where will we pee?"