Liin Terallo
Freedom for New Cov!
I had spent years trying to convince other people that New Cov was worth saving. Governors. Scientists. Military officials. Nobles. Representatives of organizations whose names carried considerably more weight than mine ever had. I had spoken to them carefully. Presented evidence. Discussed logistics. Explained the dangers of the occupation and the consequences of leaving it unchallenged. I had asked for assistance. And I had waited.
For a long time, I had convinced myself that patience was wisdom. That gathering enough support would eventually make the difference between a successful liberation and another catastrophe. But sitting alone in a dimly lit establishment on a world I had no particular reason to care about, I was beginning to wonder whether I had simply been afraid.
My little companion rested against my shoulder, tucked partially beneath the collar of my jacket. He had grown accustomed to travelling with me over the years, but even he seemed to recognize that something was different tonight. His tiny head occasionally lifted as unfamiliar voices passed nearby, his dark eyes following strangers before disappearing beneath the fabric again.
I absently touched his back. "I know," I murmured. He gave a quiet chirp. "I don't like it either."
My attention returned to the datapad lying on the table before me. There was very little on it's screen. A list of transports. A handful of names. Two potential contacts. And one address. None of it was particularly reassuring.
The problem was simple enough. I needed to get home. Yet the solution was considerably less so. New Cov had changed since I had left. The access codes I had once known were useless now. Security protocols had been replaced. The systems that I had helped design were no longer mine to access, and attempting to use the old credentials would accomplish little beyond informing the occupying authorities that someone with my particular knowledge had returned.
I couldn't simply walk into one of the domed cities. I couldn't even guarantee that I could approach one safely. So I needed someone who could get me there without asking too many questions. Someone capable of falsifying an identity. A smuggler, perhaps. A forger. Someone who specialized in making people disappear.
The irony wasn't lost on me. For years, I had worked very hard to make sure that nobody could find me. Now I was paying someone to make sure they couldn't find me again.
I glanced down at my hands. They looked exactly as they always had. No weapon. No armor. No uniform. Just a scientist who had spent far too long pretending that laboratories could solve problems that belonged to people. I had brought enough credits to make the arrangement worthwhile, though I suspected that money alone wouldn't be enough. Criminals were rarely motivated by credits when information was worth more. And I had a great deal of information. The trick would be convincing them that I wasn't worth turning in.
I looked across the establishment once more. Most of the people here had no reason to know who I was. I intended to keep it that way. New Cov didn't need an army. It didn't need another politician making promises on its behalf. It had survived before. It's people had fought for their independence before. Perhaps they could do it again. Perhaps they were already trying.
My fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the datapad. The thought of seeing my home again should have brought comfort. Instead, it frightened me. What if my family was gone? What if the Underground didn't want me? What if they remembered exactly who had helped design the systems that had eventually been compromised? What if they looked at me and only saw the person responsible? I swallowed quietly. Those were questions I couldn't answer from here. And for the first time in years, I wasn't going to wait for someone else to answer them for me.
I closed the datapad. Then I glanced toward the establishment's entrance as another group entered, my attention lingering for a moment before returning to my companion. "One way or another," I whispered, "I'm going home." The little creature chirped softly. I smiled faintly. "And preferably without being arrested before I get there." That, I decided, was probably the first problem I needed to solve.
For a long time, I had convinced myself that patience was wisdom. That gathering enough support would eventually make the difference between a successful liberation and another catastrophe. But sitting alone in a dimly lit establishment on a world I had no particular reason to care about, I was beginning to wonder whether I had simply been afraid.
My little companion rested against my shoulder, tucked partially beneath the collar of my jacket. He had grown accustomed to travelling with me over the years, but even he seemed to recognize that something was different tonight. His tiny head occasionally lifted as unfamiliar voices passed nearby, his dark eyes following strangers before disappearing beneath the fabric again.
I absently touched his back. "I know," I murmured. He gave a quiet chirp. "I don't like it either."
My attention returned to the datapad lying on the table before me. There was very little on it's screen. A list of transports. A handful of names. Two potential contacts. And one address. None of it was particularly reassuring.
The problem was simple enough. I needed to get home. Yet the solution was considerably less so. New Cov had changed since I had left. The access codes I had once known were useless now. Security protocols had been replaced. The systems that I had helped design were no longer mine to access, and attempting to use the old credentials would accomplish little beyond informing the occupying authorities that someone with my particular knowledge had returned.
I couldn't simply walk into one of the domed cities. I couldn't even guarantee that I could approach one safely. So I needed someone who could get me there without asking too many questions. Someone capable of falsifying an identity. A smuggler, perhaps. A forger. Someone who specialized in making people disappear.
The irony wasn't lost on me. For years, I had worked very hard to make sure that nobody could find me. Now I was paying someone to make sure they couldn't find me again.
I glanced down at my hands. They looked exactly as they always had. No weapon. No armor. No uniform. Just a scientist who had spent far too long pretending that laboratories could solve problems that belonged to people. I had brought enough credits to make the arrangement worthwhile, though I suspected that money alone wouldn't be enough. Criminals were rarely motivated by credits when information was worth more. And I had a great deal of information. The trick would be convincing them that I wasn't worth turning in.
I looked across the establishment once more. Most of the people here had no reason to know who I was. I intended to keep it that way. New Cov didn't need an army. It didn't need another politician making promises on its behalf. It had survived before. It's people had fought for their independence before. Perhaps they could do it again. Perhaps they were already trying.
My fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the datapad. The thought of seeing my home again should have brought comfort. Instead, it frightened me. What if my family was gone? What if the Underground didn't want me? What if they remembered exactly who had helped design the systems that had eventually been compromised? What if they looked at me and only saw the person responsible? I swallowed quietly. Those were questions I couldn't answer from here. And for the first time in years, I wasn't going to wait for someone else to answer them for me.
I closed the datapad. Then I glanced toward the establishment's entrance as another group entered, my attention lingering for a moment before returning to my companion. "One way or another," I whispered, "I'm going home." The little creature chirped softly. I smiled faintly. "And preferably without being arrested before I get there." That, I decided, was probably the first problem I needed to solve.