Timefall Saga – Book 1 – Chapter 20

It wasn’t long before Darian was able to leave the cell for
lunch and exercise. The first time he entered the mess hall he was absolutely
amazed that a room could be so large. He vaguely recalled that rooms did come
in this size, and could be even larger than that, but the memories didn’t seem
to be able to solidify into something tangible.

He heard other prisoners complain about the size of the
place. Incidentally, space stations were not known for being roomy, but that
didn’t particularly matter to Darian at this particular point. Devin made a few
tentative sidelong glances at Darian’s look of wide-eyed wonder but made no
comments as usual.

In Darian’s defense, he did the best he could to hide his
bewilderment, knowing that it would make him noticeable. The shards of memory
left in his head along with his instincts told him that prison was a dangerous
place and that he should remain quiet and discreet if he wished to continue to
live unharmed.

It was right after lunchtime on the second day he had been
allowed out of his cell that the same guard he had spoken to previously
approached him. He was performing his rounds again, walking up and down the
cells checking and ensuring everyone was present. He kept glancing over at Darian’s
cell as he performed his duties while Darian waited patiently.

Devin was partially asleep, lying on his bed with a book on
his chest. Darian felt like whatever was going to happen next was important, although
he didn’t know if it was some part of his intuition or merely a natural
feeling. Eventually, the guard approached him, stopping in his tracks. After a
few moments, he sighed and turned towards the cell glancing at Darian.

“How…” the guard coughed, looking embarrassed
for a second before regaining the confidence to continue,” How did you
know?”

“About the girl?” Darian asked questioningly.

He didn’t know about a girl, but he had presumed by the
conversation he had had prior that a girl might have been involved. Darian
realized that he couldn’t remember what girls looked like. It was a rather
silly thing to think about. He knew men spent a really long time concerning
themselves about women, but he had trouble remembering why.

“Yes, yes, she loved them, her favorite color she said,
but how do you know, well, anything?” the guard said, a tinge of annoyance
in his voice.

Darian ran through the possibilities in his head and
compared them with whichever direction gave him the best feelings. He could
tell the guard about his intuition, but he realized it wouldn’t be something
the guard would grasp very easily. After all, he wasn’t exactly seeing the
future, he was just seeing what the best words to say at the right times would
be.

“I’m psychic,” he said bluntly.

The guard blinked, but after a few moments, he began shaking
his head up and down. Darian avoided sighing in relief.

“My stepmother occasionally goes to a psychic. I always
thought it was crap, but every now and then she comes up with something unexpected
that her psychic told her, and it turns out to be true… Have you…?”

“My whole life,” Darian lied, “In fact,
that’s how I ended up in here, told a woman her husband was going to be
cheating on her, turned out he was a noble.”

The guard burst out laughing, “Isn’t that exactly like
the nobles!” he put his hand to his lips and lowered his voice,” you
didn’t hear it from me, but tough luck on the chances, must have been a higher
noble, no, no, I don’t want to hear who. The last thing I need is to become an
accomplice.”

Darian forced a grin as well. He knew it was strained, which
probably helped contribute to his charade. He found himself uncomfortable with
lying. He was actually a tad surprised at how easy it felt but wasn’t
particularly fond of it. Still, his instincts told him to lie. He considered
this as he touched his side, which was merely a dull ache at this point.

“So…” the guard looked around nervously,”
We have a second date tomorrow, do you have any advice for me, to you know,”
the guard blushed nervously.

Darian chuckled before responding, “Well…”

“Wait,” the guard interrupted, “Do you need
to read my palm or something?”

Darian blinked; he had never considered that physical
contact might help. Perhaps he could see things more clearly if he had a
physical connection to the person he was “reading”. The guard put out
his hand and Darian grabbed it. He noted the level of trust the guard had
already put in him just by putting his hand into a prisoner’s cage.

To Darian’s disappointment, there appeared to be no
additional insight by touching the guard’s hand. He knew nothing more than he
knew before, and the instincts he seemed to be letting guide himself were no
clearer. Nevertheless, the guard seemed to be more comfortable with a reading
that fit his views of what a reading should include, and that was enough for Darian.

Nothing came to him, which was a little frustrating. Should
he lie? His instincts told him nothing as he stood there, squinting at the
guard’s hand. As the seconds rolled into minutes, a look of irritation began to
form on the guard’s face.

“Your name is Joseph,” Darian stated, trying to
stall.

The guard shook his head up and down enthusiastically. Darian
had heard one of the other guards call him that, but desperate to believe, the
guard was willing to suspend disbelief.

“This girl, she’s pretty…” Darian struggled
onward, Joe the guard becoming increasingly excited.

“She’s a Brunette?” Darian saw a look of confusion
in the man’s eyes,” but she dyes her hair…”

Joseph gasped, “Amazing… I didn’t know she wasn’t a
natural blond, but now that you say it, it seems pretty obvious, but the date,
what can I do to amaze her?”

Without thought, an answer emerged from Darian’s lips,
“Dorek Do.”

Joseph’s brow furrowed, “What?”

Darian wanted to hesitate, but his instincts had already
pushed him forward. This didn’t come from a need to impress or get through the
conversation with his skin. He simply believed the answer to be correct.

“Dorek Do, take her to Dorek Do,” Darian responded.

The guard’s face became very solemn, he pulled his arm back
away, a look of confusion on his face, quickly followed by a tinge of disappointment.
After a moment he shook his head and walked away, muttering to himself as he
left. Darian cringed. That did not go nearly as well as he had hoped. His
instinct has been so sure that time.

Devin, awake from his nap, came up beside Darian as the
guard walked away.

“Giving him more advice?” the old man asked.

“I told him to take his girlfriend to Dorek Do,” Darian
responded.

Devin chortled, “Well that explains the look on the
guard’s face!”

Devin burst out in laughter, slapping his knee as he walked
back to the bed to sit down.

“What is Dorek Do?” Darian asked.

Devin’s eyebrow rose, “Sometimes I forget how spotty
your memory can be. But you probably should have thought of that before you
recommended it for a date. Dorek Do is the name of a fighting championship.
It’s an extreme sport, very bloody. Also, very geared towards young men.
Scantily clad women in cages, large quantities of alcohol, frequent crowd
fights; most certainly not the kind of place for a first date.”

“It’s technically the second date,” Darian
mumbled.

Devin laughed again, “Well then, she might give him
another chance after he messes this one up by taking her to Dorek Do, but I
suppose that depends on how good the first date was, now doesn’t it.”

Darian joined him in the laugh. Inside he contemplated what
he learned from this encounter. His instincts helped him, sometimes, other
times it flopped. So what was the point of having them when they seemed to be
only about as effective as flipping a coin?

Later that day, Darian had the chance to stretch his legs in
the gym. The gym was easily twice the size of the mess hall, causing Darian to
once again have to readjust his perceptions of the size of an enclosure.
Prisoners were routinely circulated by wing to the gym twice a week for three
hours.

The gym had areas to use weights, a track to run, and a few
other areas. Groups of prisoners sat around and talked or worked out to build
muscle. Darian decided to take several laps around the track while Devin mostly
sat in a corner and kept to himself.

After a few laps a group of prisoner approached him. There
were three in all, a taller, larger man taking the lead. He had long hair, an
earring, and a grizzled look to him.

“You, you’re the guy that came in a few months
back?” the man asked while his companions waited back a few steps.

“Yeah…” Darian responded flatly.

“I heard about the beating you got. Five guards at
once, they say you didn’t even provoke them. They just felt like it.” he
replied.

Darian nodded, wondering where this was going.

“Tough break man, but hey, anyone who can take a
beating like that and keep on going is OK in my book, the names Frez,” the
man responded.

His companions nodded their heads with him, each giving their
names.  Frez slapped Darian on the
shoulder a tad harder than Darian would have liked before turning around and
walking away, his followers joining him. Darian turned back and was able to do
another lap before the next group came up to him.

That is how it went, with one group after another coming up
to him and offering him their condolences. Not every group was as well informed
as the first. Some reasoned out that he had fought back, or even taken down a
couple of guards in the process.

In one story he had seduced one of the guard’s daughters, in
another he had spit in the Warden’s eye; still another he had poisoned several
of the guards. The fact that the roster of guards on the station remained the
same seemed irrelevant for that theory. Either way, the story seemed to grow in
size and intricacy with each telling. By the end of the gym period, he had
taken down the five guards single handedly, and would have escaped too, except
that he was betrayed by a comrade. However, he claimed his vengeance and the
comrade was never heard from again.

For all of this, Darian just smiled and nodded. The pain in
his side seemed a little less as he began to realize that being attacked by the
guards had somehow validated him to just about every prisoner. If he was an
enemy of the guards, he was a friend of the prisoners. 

So it was starting to seem like his instincts did have a
method to their madness. Perhaps the reasoning was not immediately clear to Darian,
but the effects would undoubtedly come out in Darian’s favor. At least he hoped
this was the case.

When Darian and Devin returned to their room, the cell
across from them was now occupied. Darian immediately recognized the man from
the vision he had previously had. So this was Beiromon. He knew very little
else besides the name. This could either mean that he doesn’t ask Beiromon any
questions in the near future, or that if he asked, Beiromon wouldn’t answer.
Devin, whom had been steadily growing more introverted as time progressed, lied
down on his small bed and closed his eyes. He seemed to be sleeping a lot more
of late.

Beiromon was a large man. He had bushy graying side burns
that traveled down the side of his face to his chin, almost long enough to be
considered a beard. He wore the same jumpsuit as any other prisoner and also
had the same hunched over, beaten, persona that Darian had seen by most of the
people here.

Despite that, he also had a regal air about him that seemed unfitting
for a prisoner in this place. The way he sat and moved seemed abnormally
formal. Darian fought the urge to speak to the man. The words formulated in his
head a dozen times, but right before he spoke, something told him to wait and
not speak. Darian quickly began to get irritated with himself. He wanted to
speak to the man, and he was starting to become irritated that his instincts
always seemed to disagree with him. It was a strange kind of internal struggle.
He felt the pull of the internal premonitions devising him what he should do,
but his own stubborn desire to do something else.

Just as he opened his mouth to speak, he really was going to
say something this time, he found himself interrupted by a guard. It was the
same guard he had spoken to before, Joseph. He broke his eye contact away from
Beiromon, who was starting to notice his staring, to acknowledge the guard. He
realized that Joseph was not alone, but had another guard along with him and
they were having a conversation in front of his cell.

“This is the guy I told you about Tifran,” Joseph
spoke excitedly.

The other guard was quite a bit fatter than Joseph. Darian
had not seen the man before, there were a lot of guards and he lived in only
one wing of the massive space station that housed the prisoners. He had small
pinpoint eyes that sat narrowed as he eyed Darian suspiciously. He ran his hand
through what was left of his hair before sticking a hand in the pocket of his
guard uniform, which was a two piece tan outfit that all of the other guards
also wore.

“I don’t know,” he responded in a nasally
voice,” I’m not too convinced he wasn’t pulling your tail.”

“No, No,” Joseph defended himself,” I swear
it’s legit. You remember Pheony?”

“The pretty girl with the long legs you somehow
convinced to go on a date?”

“Yeah! I spoke to this guy,” Joseph pointed at Darian,”
and he advised me to take her to Dorek Do.”

“No!” Trifran gasped, “You didn’t?”

Joseph began nodding and Tifran laughed out loud, “You fool,
how did that go?”

Joseph began to form a grin that continued to grow.

“No, you’re kidding me?”

“A total nut, she loves the stuff, can’t get enough of
it, I’m telling you, she’s a wild one that girl.”

“A nice girl like that?” Tifran shook his head in
disbelief.

“Best night of her life, she told me, we’re going to
the shuttle derby next week, but I’m telling you man,” Joseph turned to Darian
with a large smile,” wouldn’t have been possible without this guy right
here.”

 “I don’t know, I
still say you just got lucky,” Tifran shook his head again before looking
at Darian, “Alright, psychic boy, winning lottery numbers, cough them
up.”

Before Darian could blink Joseph let out a strangled cough,
“You can’t ask him that!”

“Well, why not?”

“It’s complicated; my step mother says it’s about
balance, if a psychic told you that, it would have to balance out the good with
the bad. Something that big, you might win tomorrow then wake up the next day
dead, it’d be irresponsible, that.”

“You can’t wake up dead, Joseph.”

“Well, you can if you’re a Wraith!”

“A Wraith? Now you’re going to bring children’s stories
into this, why don’t you just start bleating about the ‘stars’ disappearing
while you are at it?”

“Stars?” The question left Darian’s lips before he
could control himself.

He could see Beiromon’s head tilted toward them. He was
listening, but wasn’t trying to look like he was listening. The guards started,
as if surprised to hear him talk.

Joseph grinned and leaned towards Dorian as if to whisper
through the bars, but when he spoke it was clear enough for anyone to hear,
“True story, there has been talk that there are not as many stars in the
sky as their once were, don’t roll your eyes at me Tifran, it is true. Planet
hunters who travel amongst the stars, spending centuries traveling at near
light travels, often say the sky looks… Different from when they left.
Emptier.”

“That’s just space sickness, Planet Hunters,
something’s wrong with their heads, every one of them, have to be after defying
time and living that long.”

“No, that’s not it, even my great grandma, before she
passed away, the lord and lady bless her, said that there were a few stars less
in the sky than there once were. That’s why there are less and less planet
hunters these days, afraid they will head off towards a star and it won’t be
there when they arrive.”

“Like I said,” Tifran replied,” a bunch of
superstition and wives’ tales.”

Joseph shrugged uncomfortably, “Believe what you will,
but Prisoner A79 helped me a lot and I will vouch for him first hand.”

“You,” Joseph’s stocky friend barked, “So
what can you tell me then?”

“Darian,” Darian replied.

The guard blinked, taken aback for a moment,
“Alright… Darian, it better be good. ”

Darian took a deep breath, ready to try to manipulate and
fumble his way out of this new situation.

The door clicked open and Darian’s eyed the dark shadow in
the doorway. His head still throbbed from the beating he had received before.

“Come on, it isn’t safe,” the voice in the doorway
said.

The voice was that of Beiromon. He hadn’t heard Beiromon’s
voice before, or had he? He shook his head, which just caused the ache and
dizziness to hit him particularly hard. He would have stumbled if he had been
standing up.

Beiromon walked over to him and helped him to his feet.

“I’m not saying I believe you,” Beiromon said, “but
these riots are getting pretty bad and I might feel some guilt if a prisoner
smothered you in your condition.”

“I’m alright,” Darian responded, he mouth feeling
like it was full of cotton, “What’s going on?”

“Prison Riot,” Beiromon responded, eyeing him up
and down, “Looks like you were right about that.”

Darian started, and then stood up straighter, “Ok, then
where are we going?”

“Away, we don’t want to face the wrath of the guards
when they get things under control, and we don’t want to face any of the
rioters either, that can get messy. We find a closet with a lock, and we lock
it, keep it simple.”

“Run away?” Darian asked incredulously.

“Rule one of engagement,” Beiromon responded,
“Don’t. Not if your do not have to.”

They had made it half way down the hallway towards the exit
door when it burst open. Several guards poured through as Beiromon cursed. He
crouched down to the ground, taking a submissive pose. Darian should have
copied him, a guard came up to him and hit him with the blunt of his gun. A
flash of white light and pain scorched Darian’s mind. He collapsed to the floor
in a heap. He was vaguely aware of talking as the guard yelled things at
Beiromon, who remained submissive and made calming gestures, protectively
trying to keep the guard from attacking Darian further.

With effort, Darian managed to back up to Beiromon, placing
himself into a similar submissive position. After a few moments the guard
turned away. He did not recognize most of the guards that had entered into the
hallways, but Tifran was among them. Just as the guards started to reorganize
themselves, the door burst open again; the two guards that had been standing in
front of it were shoved towards their friends, knocking several of them down.

Tifran had narrowly avoided a falling comrade, he lifted his
gun to fire, but before he could react he stopped short with a sudden jerk, he
fell forward to the ground. Darian could barely see the red tip of the knife
that had struck him sticking out of his chest.

“Darian,” a voice called.

Darian ignored it, staring at the lifeless eyes of a man
that had just been in front of him, perfectly healthy, a moment before. A
moment before? The man was over there, dead, he had not just had a conversation
with him. Did he?

“Prisoner A79!”

Darian jerked, his eyes regaining focus as Tifran and Joseph
stood in front of him. Tifran glared with an annoyed expression, clearly not
happy at being ignored. Before Darian could think to stop himself, his hands
leaped out from between the bars, grabbing Tifran.

“A prison riot,” he shouted, “You’re in
trouble, you’ll die, it’s…”

Joseph had finally stopped starring in stunned silence and
leaped in, pulling Tifran from Darian. Darian fell back onto his bottom,
landing hard. Tifran’s face now wore considerable anger; he glared at Joseph
for a moment, whom looked down sheepishly before turning and storming off.

“You have to believe me,” Darian pleaded to him.

Joseph looked at him. He did not seem angry or upset, just
mildly confused. After a moment he sighed and shrugged.

“I believe you, I might as well, I’ll look after him,
but I don’t think you’ll get any better treatment from the guards after
this.”

Darian nodded and Joseph turned and walked away. Darian
looked out the cell, noticing he had gotten a great deal of attention from
several of the other inmates who were watching him. Several of them looked a
little angry. Beiromon looked more curious than anything. Darian turned and walked
back into the depths of his cell.

“Always the rat, what a hypocrite you are,” Devin
muttered angrily from under his covers.

“Excuse me?” Darian responded.

“There was a riot two weeks ago, why on earth do you
think there would be another one so soon.”

Two weeks. Darian took that as a confirmation, now he knew
exactly when it was. Would Tifran die? Could he prevent it? He had no clue what
he could do. Last time things occurred exactly how he imagined them. However,
what would the point of having a vision be if he couldn’t change it? Would he
have time to change it? He’d have to be diligent.

“You aren’t making any friends continually siding and
helping the guards,” Devin continued after a moment of silence.

“Yeah, but you’ll always be there as my friend,” Darian
responded.

“Friend?” Devin responded with incredulity,
“You’re not on again about that are you?”

Darian nodded and smiled at him. This caused Devin to glare
at him. After a few moments he put the blankets back over his eyes. Darian
could hear him muttering quietly under his blanket.

After a brief silence, he spoke up again, his words muffled
by the blanket, “I hope you know what you are doing.”

“Me too, ” Darian replied,  “Me too.”