Eternal Hope

Eternal Hope
Chapter 2

During the next two months, they spent everyday together.
They talked together, they drank together, they laughed together, they stole together, they got in trouble together, they ate together and they starved together.
They found themselves a cozy little home, the basement of an old abandoned building. The top floor had caved in, but in the basement there was enough room to build a cozy little fire and to drag an old mattress into for them to sleep on. In the morning before they left to wander the streets, they always boarded up the small window through which they crept in and out of.
From the outside it looked like an old abandoned wreck. Nobody walking by could have guessed that two fourteen year old guys lived in there.
They lived everyday by whatever happened to stumble across their path. They stole and begged for food and money, sometimes even resorting to beating up other younger kids for food. It was a desperate fight against death everyday.
It wasn’t until half a year after Seamus had first met Pez that dark night that they got a job. A real job.
He hadn’t believed Pez at first when he had come stumbling in through the window, babbling excitedly about some job offer that he had gotten that morning.
“What job, Pez? Shit, you drunk or something?”
Pez collapsed onto the mattress and grinned up at him. “Never been more sober in my life.”
“Really? What the hell are you talking about? Job offer, my ass.”
Pez smiled. “Shay, I ain’t joking, and I ain’t drunk. This guy, Sib or something like that was in the bar where I was sitting, flirting with some hooker. Comes in there and starts complaining to Charlie (the bartender) that he didn’t have any more runners. All got caught or something-”
“Runners? Pez, are you talking-”
“Just listen, Shay. So anyway, I says to him that I’m looking for a job, and so are you. He looks at me and asks if we would be interested in being runners.”
“And you said?”
“I told him we’d love to. He says to meet him tomorrow on Berkling Street.”
Seamus covered his eyes with his hands. “Running, Pez? That’s illegal, you know that.”
“So what? We do illegal crap everyday. Plus, everybody else does it. Plus, it pays real good.”
Shay looked at him from between his fingers. It did sound appealing. The pay really was good. He had known a few drug runners back in the camp.
He thought it over for a few minutes. It was dangerous as hell. If they got caught, they’d be dead. But, on the other hand, the pay was good. They’d never have to worry about starving or freezing ever again.
Slowly, he let his hands slide off his eyes. He looked at Pez. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Pez grinned up at him.

* * *

Harper smiled to himself. He had to admit to himself that those next two years had been the most fun he had ever had.
The best part of the whole deal which Sib had given them was that they got their own little glider to fly around in. Her name had been Twinkie. It was a piece of crap. The engines were nearly blown out, the sensors wouldn’t have noticed if an enormous ship were headed right for them, and the slipstream portal had been ripped out by vandals years ago. But it could still fly.
Harper chuckled. Nobody would have guessed that he had learned how to fly enormous Commonwealth starships like the Andromeda by flying a little crappy bucket of bolts named Twinkie.
But he had. Neither him nor Pez had ever flown a ship before, but Sib had told them that that was their own fault. So Seamus had strapped himself in, told Pez to hang on and had let her out full. After jerking them around in wild circles and nearly tearing the roof off of the docking station, Seamus slowly got the hang of driving the old glider.
After flying her for a while, Seamus got to know her small little habits like the back of his hand. The one thing he learned pretty quickly was, if her one remaining engine threatened to overheat, all he had to do was kick it a few times and the lid would pop off and it would start to cool. Not the best way to fix the problem, but it worked.
The actual picking up of the drugs wasn’t the funnest part, but it was all part of the job. Sib would call them to his headquarters and tell them when and where the next shipment would be waiting for them. They’d hop into Twinkie and fly over there.
Mostly, they’d arrive in the dead of the night when the docking station was mostly empty and silent.
They’d land their precious bucket of bolts and get out. Immediately, darkly dressed men would come over to them and demand to see their papers. Seamus would abruptly interupt them and tell them that they were here for Sib and that he didn’t have the time to waste talking to them. He hated the delivery boys. They all thought they were the best. Thought they were the best looking and talking things around. He couldn’t’ stand them. After he would rudely cut them off like that, they’d just stare back and forth between the two boys before slowly starting to move enormous crates of drugs onto the glider. Pez and him helped too if the shipment was big. When all the crates had been stored safely inside Twinkie, Seamus would pull out the small sack of thrones Sib had given him to give to the delivery boys for payment. They’d grab the cash and melt back into the darkness.
Then, Pez and him would jump back into Twinkie and take off. Within a few minutes, they’d be back to their own docking station where they would help unload the crates. Then, they’d head off to catch a few hours of sleep before Sib would call them in to pay them.
It was a good life.

Until that one fateful run.
As soon as Sib had told them that the station they’d be docking at would be right next to some Nietzschean headquarters, Seamus had refused to go.
But Pez had reasoned with him, telling him that they wouldn’t even have to get out of Twinkie before taking off. The shipment was small. Just some Flash and Nethyl. Not much.
Reluctantly, Seamus had agreed.

* * *

“Okay, Pez. We’re here.” He said, gently landing Twinkie on to the station floor. He glanced out of the window. With expert eyes he scanned the area. Yup, he could see a couple of the delivery boys lurking there in the shadows.
Sib always said that running could give you the best eyesight in the world. Now, Seamus really understood what he had meant. Well, when your life depended on what lurked in the shadows, anybody would learn how to pierce through the darkness and catch the slightest movement.
Pez moved up beside him and looked through the darkness. He nodded.
“I see ‘em. Idiots. Always think that we couldn’t tell apart a crate from their own heads.”
Seamus smiled and turned off the engine.
“Open the airlock, will you?” Pez asked over his shoulder as he made his way towards the door. Seamus pushed the old rusted lever over and he heard the airlock slowly open. Pez hopped out and he heard him arguing with the delivery boys.
“Give me the crates.”
“I’ll need to see some papers first-”
“Screw the papers. Both you and I know that Sib sent me.”
“I’ll still need to see some-”
“I’ll get you the papers later and stuff them up your ass when I do, but until then, get moving. There’s a fucking Nietzschean guard station just down the block from here. If they catch us now, you won’t be alive enough to stuff those papers up your ass and I hate not getting what I came for.” Seamus heard Pez hiss.
He heard the delivery guy snap his fingers and slowly, other men melted out of the darkness and started swiftly moving crates onto the ship. When they were done, they melted back into the darkness and stood there. Seamus shook his head. The dumbasses always thought that nobody could see them. He heard Pez jump back into the ship and he pulled the lever over and the airlock shut.
“Ready to go?”
Pez came and leaned over his chair. “Ready as ever. The faster we get home, the better. The hairs on the back of my neck refuse to sit still.”
Seamus turned the engine on and turned Twinkie around.
They had hardly left the station when a loud whining sound reached their ears.
“What the hell is that?” Seamus asked, his eyes darting around nervously. Pez ran over and peered out the back window.
“Shit. It’s the alarm at the station. The delivery guys must have been caught.”
A small chill ran down his back as he pushed the controls a little further and the old ship flew a little faster. They had to get out of here quickly.
But then-
“Person’s on board the small craft flying away from docking station Delta 16 are instructed to halt immediately and surrender.”
Seamus swallowed hard as Pez swore. They had been spotted.
He pushed the controls a little further and Twinkie shuddered but speeded up.
He glanced at the voice intercom beside him from where the voice had come from.
“Oh, yeah? Says who?”
“Head commander of the docking station you just picked up a load of illegal drugs from. Halt immediately and surrender.”
Seamus gritted his teeth and shoved the controls even further. They started shaking in his hands and the whole ship was rattling.
“Yeah? Well, here’s what I have to say. Fuck off.” He spat, glaring at the voice intercom.
Pez grabbed onto the railing behind the piloting chair, the railing shaking in his hands as the old ship went faster and faster.
“Shay! Just stop. We can’t outrun them. I just looked back. They’ve sent out two swarmers after us. We can’t get away from them. It’s impossible.” Pez yelled over the whining of the emergency siren which had started ringing throughout the ship.
Seamus swore. The engines were overheating.
“We can do this, Pez. I know we can.” Seamus screamed back. “Just trust me.” He pushed the controls as far as they would go, gripping them so hard that his knuckles were going white. The emergency siren screamed louder, nearly drowning out his voice.
“Shay, we can’t-”
“Just trust me, Pez.” He screamed. He glanced over at the engine which was starting to shake. He reached over with his foot and started kicking it.
“Come on, Twinkie. You’ve come through for us before. Come on.” He muttered, trying to watch where he was flying and trying to see where the lid of the engine was at the same time. Finally, the lid flew off. He didn’t even stop to glance at it again. He just pushed the controls further.
“Shay! They’re getting closer. They’re getting ready to fire.” Pez screamed over at him.
He gritted his teeth and yanked Twinkie around just as the swarmers started firing. He madly swerved around the bullets, trying to avoid as many as possible.
But he couldn’t avoid all of them. When the first one hit them, Pez went flying across the entire ship, slamming into the wall. The lid of the engine flew across the floor and Seamus was nearly thrown out of his seat as the whole ship was nearly torn in half.
“Hang on, Pez. We’re nearly there. Just hang on.” He screamed over at the unconscious form of his best friend. “Just hang on.”

* * *

The Nietzschean guard who had lead him all the way down the hallway from the chamber where he had been, roughly threw him through the open door of the courtroom.
He painfully landed on his face, his hands still handcuffed behind his back. He couldn’t help but let out a yelp of pain as the ground made contact with his broken nose.
He was roughly hauled up and thrown into the middle of the room. He slid to a stop and quickly stumbled up. From the past few days, he had learned to always get up before being told to do so. It was always less painful.
He warily gazed around himself. The room was empty except for a long table infront of him where five Nietzscheans sat. They were all gazing at him with that haughty, snobby look they all had on their faces.
He sneered back but as soon as the Nietzschean guard who had followed him inside, gave him a look, he quickly wiped the look off his face. He hated that guard.
For the past few days that guard had had the most fun anybody could have possibly had. He had even told Seamus that numerous times.
He had first been beaten to pulp. Chained to a wall and punched, kicked, bitten, anything he could think of. He had ended up with a wide gash across his forehead (thanks to those damn Nietzschean bone blades. He hated those things.), numerous bruises and cuts on his arms and chest, a black eye and a cut lip. And just when he thought it was over, he had made some stupid remark about the guard being a sissy. He had right away regretted saying it, but it was too late. The guard had grabbed him and had slammed him into the wall, breaking his nose to pieces.
After that, they had torn his shirt off of him, strapped him down onto a table and whipped him. He had known what was coming as soon as he had been dragged to a room with a table in it. He had screamed and tried to run away, but the guards had just laughed that infuriating laugh of theirs and had easily grabbed hold of him and slammed him down onto the table. No matter how hard he struggled, how much he pleaded or how loudly he screamed, they had ignored him, only laughing from time to time. Then, the guard who had slammed him into the wall had put on the tough leather gloves Seamus knew only too well and had cracked the rawhide whip through the air. Seamus bit down hard on his lip, determined not to scream. After the first few lashes, sweat pouring down his face, tears of pain stinging his clenched shut eyes, he couldn’t hold the screams in.
It seemed to last forever. Even when he found himself sliding around the table on his own blood and he could barely hear or feel anything anymore, it went on.
Finally, as if in a far away dream, he heard a woman’s voice ordering the guard to stop. He didn’t open his eyes and didn’t stop biting his lip while the guard tore the straps off his arms and legs and dragged him off the table and down the hallway to a little cell.
He had been roughly thrown inside, his nose painfully slamming onto the cement floor, but he barely felt it.
Now, as he stood there, glaring at the judges sitting in front of him, he felt a little bit more alive. His back had stopped burning and he could stand up and sit down without screaming out in pain. His nose was still broken, but it wasn’t bleeding anymore. The swelling on his face was slowly going down.
He found himself wondering where Pez was. He hadn’t seen him since they had dragged his still unconscious form off of Twinkie that night.
He started shifting around uncomfortably. He was hungry. And cold. They hadn’t given him his shirt back. All he had on him was a pair of old, filhy pants. He glanced up at the judges but then quickly looked down at the floor. Never make eye contact with any Nietzschean who was within pain inflicting distance.
“State your name.” One of the judges said. It wasn’t even a question. It was a command.
Seamus was about to mouth him off, but his guard gave him another look and cracked his knuckles. Seamus closed his mouth again.
“Seamus Zelazny Harper, my lord.”
“Age?”
“Sixteen, my lord” He replied, his bitter eyes nearly burning holes into the cement floor.
“Born in a camp or the city?”
“A camp, my lord. Number X5.”
He made some notes on the paper in front of her. “Sub division?”
He licked his dry lips. Damn, he wanted some water. “C.”
He made some more notes and then glanced up at him.
“Drug trafficking on this planet is a rather minor, but still punishable offence. I sentence you to a year in jail. No parole before the term has been served.”
Seamus bit his lips to keep his mouth shut. A year? A whole fucking year? He glared at the ground, not daring to look up. God, how he hated them all.
Before he could say anything, the guard grabbed him and walked him out of the room and down the hallway to the row of cells.
He stopped by one, rummaged around in his pockets and pulled out a key. He unlocked the door, opened it and threw Seamus inside the cell. He landed on his knees. He heard the door being slammed shut behind him.
He didn’t even turn around when he heard the door being locked and the guard walking off.
He crawled further into the cell, falling over the sleeping form of another prisoner. He crawled to the corner of the cell, igoring the stench of urine and death which crept up his nose.
Once he had crammed himself into the corner, he glanced around the cell quickly, and then, satisfied that nobody would harm him for a while, he dropped off to sleep.

When he woke up, he sleepily looked around the cell. There wasn’t anything in it except for a small hole dug in the corner which reaked of urine and crap. He wrinkled his nose. Oh well. From experience, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to smell it in a few days. He glanced around at the other sleeping inmates lying all around him.
There were three others, asides from him. An old man with white hair and a long tangled beard lay sleeping in the other corner. Two younger men who appeared to be a little older than Seamus lay sleeping on the floor. One of them was snoring.
Seamus slowly sat up and yawned. For a while, the only sounds in the cell were the snoring of his cell mates and the squeaking of a rat somewhere beside him. Seamus hardly noticed either sound. He was used to both.
One by one, the rest of his cell mates woke up. The old man in the corner sat up and glanced over at him. He didn’t seem at all surprised to see him and just wished him a good morning. Seamus, not daring to trust anybody too soon, just continued staring at him.
Then the two sleeping on the floor woke up too. One of them, a rat faced sleezy looking type with black eyes immediately stared at Seamus.
He found his eyes very unsettling and he looked away. The man slowly smiled at him. But something about that smile made a shiver run down his back. The other man turned around and stared at Seamus too, that same smile spreading across his face.
Both of them continued smiling and staring at Seamus, their eyes slowly travelling down his body. Seamus tried not to notice when their grins got wider.
A few hours later, a guard came walking down the hall, pushing an enormous trolley filled with chunks of bread. He reached into the pile and pulled out a few slices and tossed them into the cell. Immediately, the two men leaped forward and grabbed the bread. Seamus too, after a moments hesitation jumped up and tried grabbing a piece. He got elbowed in the face for his efforts. Clutching his swelling cheek, he backed off, getting ready for a hungry day ahead. Oh well. He had starved before. He could do it again.
Just then, he heard a small whistle coming from the corner.
It was the old man. He sat there, holding up two pieces of bread. Seamus crept over and took a piece.
“Thanks.” He said, chewing on it.
The man smiled at him. “Conchikva.” He broke off a piece of the bread and held it out on one finger. Out of the darkness, a rat scurried towards him, grabbed the bread crumb and just as quickly, vanished into the darkness.
Seamus stopped chewing and frowned at him. What the hell did he just say? “What?”
The man looked at him. “Fera kurichia netva Dyra?”
Seamus stared. “I’m really not getting it.”
The man laughed. “You don’t speak Dyrillian?”
He shook his head. “Never heard of it.”
The man smiled. “Ah, so you are one of the silent ones.”
“Silent ones?”
“Yes.” He held up his hand. “You will understand in time. For now, just eat.”

The man’s name turned out to be Daxus. He was in there serving time for a terrorist attack. He had blown up a Nietzschean headquarter somewhere. He was there for life. Not because he was a menace, he explained, but because they had to make an example out of him.
Seamus spent his entire day talking to Daxus. The man had been sitting in that jail cell for 33 years already. It might not have seemed that way, but the man knew more about the world than Seamus did.
The only two thorns in his sides were the other two men in the cell. Rodney and Sliver. They were both murderers. A few years ago, they’d chopped up some old sap who wouldn’t give them the money he had supposedly owed them.
Seamus couldn’t stand them. They just sat there the entire day, staring at his every more. He hated the way their eyes were constantly roaming around his body. He loathed the way they would chuckle to themselves when he had to go to the bathroom over the tiny little hole in the corner of the cell.
He ignored it for most part until one night, he couldn’t.
He woke up from where he lay in his little corner when he felt a hand moving around at the top of his pants. His heart leaped up to his throat and he squirmed.
“Fuck. He’s awake.” He heard Sliver hiss.
“Doesn’t matter. You keep him quiet. We’ll still get it done.” He heard Rodney’s rough voice.
Panic seized him and he tried to squirm out of Rodney’s grasp. A hand suddenly grabbed his mouth and he felt himself being turned around so he was facedown on the floor.
He tried to scream but his voice was muffled by Sliver’s hand.
He started shaking as he felt Rodney straddle him. He screamed again and bit down hard on Sliver’s hand.
He heard Sliver’s sharp painful intake of breath just before he was punched in the face. His face slammed onto the cement floor.
“You ever do that again and I’ll beat your face in, got it?” he heard Sliver hiss as a hand covered his mouth again.
He desperately tried to squirm away but Rodney’s strong tighs prevented him from moving anywhere.
He started shaking even more, terrified sobs racking through him. Damn it. He had to get away. Damn it. No!
He felt Rodney’s hand slowly going down his still painful back and down towards his pants. A moan of pain tore out of his throat.
“Hurry up, Rodney. I can’t hold his mouth shut like this forever.” Sliver said.
He felt Rodney slowly pulling his pants down.
“We’ll be done in a minute. Just one minute. You can hold out for that long, now can’t you?” he heard Rodney hiss into his ear. He felt his warm breath on his cheeks.
Oh, God! Oh, God! He had to get them away. He had to get himself away. Damn it. This couldn’t be happening.

Hours later, Seamus woke up. He was still lying facedown in his corner. He glanced around. Sliver and Rodney were lying on the floor in front of him, snoring loudly.
He tried to curl himself up into a little ball, but as soon as he moved, a flash of pain coursed through his already battered and bruised body. He bit down on his lip to keep from screaming and slowly sat up.
That day, he refused to eat. Daxus brought him a piece of bread, but Seamus refused to eat it and didn’t meet the older man’s eyes. Daxus sighed. He knew what had happened. It always happened. He went back to his corner, looking over at the younger man who was staring at the floor, shame burning in his blue eyes. He would get over it. They always did.

Two night later, Seamus woke up again in the middle of the night and felt Rodney’s hand starting to slide down his pants.
An involuntary shudder ran down his back. He closed his eyes and forced himself to stop trembling. This time, he was ready.
He waited until he heard Sliver asking Rodney if he were awake. He heard Rodney answer back no and then heard Sliver relax and drift off to sleep again.
Seamus silently allowed himself to take a small breath. So far, so good. All he had to do was wait until Sliver was asleep.
Ignoring the spasms of revolt which coursed up and down his body as Rodney slowly pulled his pants down, Seamus strained to listen to Sliver’s breathing pattern. Slowly, he recognized the sounds of his snoring. Sliver was asleep.
He silently waited until he felt Rodney starting to straddle him. Then, he rolled over suddenly and sharply kicked Rodney’s knees out from under him.
Rodney fell forward, giving out a small yelp of surprise before slamming onto the floor of the cell. Seamus twisted around, kicking his legs out from underneath Rodney’s heavy body. Then, he jumped onto Rodney’s back, turned the bigger man over and grabbed him around the throat with both of his hands.
He felt Rodney’s hands come up to his throat, desperately trying to rip his hands from his throat. But he wouldn’t let go. He just squeezed harder, gritting his teeth as his arms screamed out in protest. Rodney started making small choking noises as he struggled for breath. He squeezed harder, hate burning in his eyes.
Suddenly, he felt somebody loosening his hands from around Rodney’s neck.
It was Daxus. The old man leaned down and felt Rodney’s neck.
“He’s dead.” He said, sounding completely indifferent.
Seamus started shaking as he slowly stood up. He kicked Rodney’s lifeless body out of his corner and collapsed in it.
He was gasping for breath, staring at the body with wild eyes.
He’d never killed anybody before. Nearly killed somebody, yes. But never like this. He’d never murdered another person before.
But then, he quickly pushed aside the guilt.
Rodney had deserved it. Yes, he had deserved.
He kept on repeating that to himself, even as the guilt seeped back.
Suddenly, he found himself sobbing, tears running down his face.
He felt Daxus come and embrace him quietly, rocking him back and forth as he wept. He buried his face in the old man’s shoulder, sobbing.
“He deserved it.” He sobbed.
Daxus just continued rocking him back and forth, stroking his back.
“I know. I know.”

The next day, the guard came and took Rodney’s body away. No questions asked. Fact was, they didn’t care. If the prisoners killed each other, they couldn’t care less. It only made room for more of them.
That same day, Sliver got transferred to another cell. Seamus didn’t know why or how, but he didn’t care.
That night, a new inmate got brought to their cell. The other side of the prison had gotten too crowded, so some inmates were being moved to this side of the prison.
When the guard opened the door and shoved in the thin, dark haired prisoner, Seamus didn’t even recognize him.
But as soon as he turned around and looked at Seamus, he recognized the pale blue eyes.
“Pez?” he breathed, staring up at his friend.
Pez blinked, staring at him, confused, until suddenly, he recognized him. “Shay?” he asked.
Pez stumbled forward and Seamus caught him in a huge hug. The two friends embraced each other, smiles on their faces.
It had been half a year since they had last seen each other.
As Seamus looked his friend over, he saw that his friend had probably been off no worse than him. A bruise still darkened one of his cheek bones and there was a deep gash across one of his eyes. But other than that, the smile was still the same.
“Shit, man, it’s great to see you.” Seamus grinned.
Pez lightly punched him on the shoulder. “Yeah, I’d been going crazy trying to get transferred to this side. When it started getting too crowded, I asked if I could be moved over here. I just got one dirty look, but then they agreed. Said something about two inmates from here having left this morning anyway.” Pez grinned at him.
Seamus couldn’t stop smiling. He had his best friend back.
“Hey, Pez, so, you ain’t planning to run out on me any time soon, eh?”
Pez looked at him. “Nah. I’m sticking right by your side, no matter what and whether you like it or not. I promise.”
Seamus grinned.

The last half of their prison term was indescrivably better than that first half had been. Daxus was an amazing story teller and kept them entertained during the day. And at night, after a few weeks, Seamus managed to sleep through the entire night without waking up, his heart in his throat. Things calmed down considerably.
But then things hyped up again when one morning, right after the bread had been delivered, Pez handed Daxus his piece.
Daxus nodded at him. “Feria.”
Pez stared. “What?”
Seamus glanced from where he was sitting, munching on his bread.
“Oh, yeah. That’s some screwed up language Daxus has. He uses it sometimes when he forgets I have no clue what he’s talking about. Dyri something or other.” He said, his mouth full.
Pez continued to stare at Daxus.
“It’s called Dyrillia, Seamus.”
“Right. Sorry.”
Pez frowned. “What’s it called?”
“Dyrillia.”
“Hey, I heard a couple of guys on the other side of the prison talking about that. It’s some special language the humans made up, ain’t it?”
Daxus nodded. “We prefer to call it human common. It was started years ago by some inmates in another prison somewhere on earth. They made it up just so they could talk comfortably by themselves without the Nietzscheans understanding a word they were saying.”
“Cool. Is it hard to learn?”
Daxus shook his head. “It’s a relatively simple language. No tenses whatsoever except for the present. For example, if want to say you went to jail three years ago, you’d say, I go to jail three years back.”
Seamus snorted. “Sounds weird.”
Pez was staring at Daxus. “Weird, maybe, but it’s a great idea.” He said carefully, then he suddenly turned to Seamus. “Shay, listen. If we could speak Dyrillian, just think of what we could do with it. We could talk to each other whenever we wanted and about whatever we wanted.”
Seamus stopped chewing and stared at Pez. He knew that look on his friends face.
He sighed. “Well, we’ve got six months left of sitting here doing nothing. We might as well learn something while we’re at it.”

It took them a month, but by the end of it, both of them were fluent in Dyrillian. Daxus had to admit that Seamus was nearly better at it than he was.
One day, while they were sitting there in the cell, Pez humming something and Daxus staring off into space, they heard a commotion from down the hall.
Pez stopped humming and Seamus stood up and went to stand infront of the bars. He clutched the bars and craned his neck, trying to see down the hallway.
“Berich kia nerva derika ba?” Pez asked him. (Can you see anything?)
Seamus shook his head. Just then, a Nietzschean came into view, dragging a screaming man behind him. The man was struggling to get away and tried grabbing onto the cell bars as he was dragged by. The Nietzschean had hold of the back of his shirt and was dragging him down the hallway.
“Kara vendri baus ka mey.” Seamus said, staring at the prisoner as he was dragged by, screaming. (Just some prisoner going for punishment.)
Pez stood up and went to stand next to the bars with Seamus to watch the man being dragged by.
As the man went by them, he turned to them and stared at them with wild, terrified eyes, sobbing with fear.
“Keria meka! Keria meka!” he cried. (Help me! Help me!)
Seamus raised an eyebrow. The man could speak Dyrillian.
Daxus too went and stood by the bars. He stared at the man with sad eyes.
“Crystallia Roxia.” He said to him. The man stopped struggling for an instant and stared at Daxus.
Pez turned to Daxus too. “What?”
Daxus briefly smiled. “I said ‘long live hope’.”
Pez continued staring at him. “A guy is being brought in for torture and you tell him ‘long live hope’?”
“When you have nothing left, when you are all alone, and when you feel that life is no longer worth living because you have nothing left, there is one thing which you do have. And that one thing is hope. As long as there is life, there is hope.” Daxus said quietly. “If people have nothing to fight with, they still have hope to fight with.”
Seamus tore his eyes away from the prisoner and stared at Daxus.
None of them said a word as they continued staring after the prisoner who had calmed down after hearing Daxus’s words, but whose terrified sobs still drifted over to them.
Seamus clutched the cell bars.
“Crystallia Roxia.” He whispered to himself. “Crystallia Roxia.”


Eternal Hope Chapter 3
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