Freedom to Choose

The last thing Josef expected to find anywhere in Kaansikka was friends, especially during a war that engulfed the continent. But what else could he call the people he found through a catastrophic tunnel collapse digging between trenches? He had traveled with them through landscapes deep underground that should have been impossible–jungles sweltering in the heat of an subterranean sun, abandoned cities colonized by spiders, a temple to a long-forgotten deity. Most of the soldiers he met down there, he survived with down there, weren’t even from his homeland; they were from countries on the other side of the war. But they fought together and helped each other through–helped each other make it back to the surface and ultimately to safety. What name for such people would fit better than friends?

Josef looked around the room where he and his fellow survivors were being kept by the Etrakean military. Information prisoners, Captain Kurtova had called them when they were first brought here. She was the only other member of their unlikely group who hailed from Runyth. Until the authorities got all the information about the underground world they could squeeze out of these survivors, they would be confined in this barracks unit. Although they were “information prisoners,” the accommodations were better than anything Josef had experienced since the war began. Each of them had a bed with its own bedding, they’d been able to shower, and they’d even been provided with changes of clothes and laundry services. They were still eating military rations, but overall, most people would consider their current circumstances better than anything that had befallen them during the war.

Josef, however, was not most people. Comfort was of little consequence to him. He could not fulfill his true purpose or his goals while confined in Etraka to be asked the same questions over and over, each time by a higher-ranking military officer.

Bored during a break in the interrogations, Josef watched his unlikely companions through the eye-holes of his gas mask. They all seemed distant and a bit cloudy to him. The throbbing headache behind his eyes, a lingering consequence of trying on the mask of a mummified priest they’d found in that temple, helped nothing. Closing his eyes made it worse, calling forth the images of the King in Yellow that had haunted him ever since.

“What are you going to do once they let us go?” Rami asked Francis conversationally on the other side of the room where they sat on the wooden floor, leaning against the whitewashed plaster wall. They were from the same area of Etraka, the most likely in this group to work together outside of the war.

“Mercenary work, probably, if the war ends like they’re saying it will,” Francis answered. His hands moved with care and precision over his blaster as he cleaned it for the fifth time that day.

“End? The war?” Josef asked, unable to believe his ears. He couldn’t imagine his existence without cataclysmic conflict. All his life, his main gift and passion had been combining the building blocks of existence to create explosions, indifferent destruction. Without a war, what use would his talents be? What would become of him?

“You cannot expect anything else, once the world’s leaders learn the news of what we’ve discovered,” Captain Kurtova rebuffed Josef. Her affect is flat, her posture resigned as she leans against the wall next to Josef, sitting between him and Etrakean Captain Womblee. She had accepted their position as ostensible prisoners of war when they emerged from the Hollow Earth with more grace than Josef had, and even at this point she seemed resigned to their fate. Her face was lined and weary, and her long brown braid had more gray in it than Josef remembered. She’s tired, he realized, but questioned the realization immediately. Captain Kurtova was first and foremost a soldier, always willing to do what needed to be done, to fight until the bitter end. He thought they were alike in this aspect.

“But what is life without conflict? Without…war?” Josef argued.

“That will be up to you.” Captain Kurtova shared a look that Josef didn’t understand with Captain Womblee; why should she have any concern what the enemy captain thought? “For perhaps the first time in your life, you have a choice where you will go and what you will do.”

“What do you mean?” Josef’s mind spirals back to his childhood, dodging flashes of the blazing, tentacled Eldritch god that lurked in his consciousness since the incident with the mask. Ever since he blew up his work station in chemistry class and gave other students chemical burns, many years ago, he was sent to the Kaansikka Academy in Runyth and made a part of the Runyth military. It was only natural that he went to active duty once the war began. What better use for a munitions expert, for someone who could turn a mess kit into a bomb with a couple of tools? He could think of no better way to serve his country, and nothing he would prefer to do with his time. Developing new and better ways to destroy things–what could be more beautiful than that?

“If you return to Runyth, you will be treated as a weapon. A prize, to be kept under lock and key. A tool to be used. But never a person,” Captain Kurtova explained.

Josef considered this. Had he ever been treated as a person? Did he want to be? Almost everyone in his life, except for a few other explosive enthusiasts in the military, Captain Kurtova, and now the others who survived the Hollow Earth’s treacherous jungles and caverns with them, had never treated him as anything but a tool or a menace–or a combination of both.

“But now you have a chance to go elsewhere, if you so choose. I’ve lost all the other men I went into that trench with. It’s no stretch to report that I lost you, as well, if there’s somewhere you would rather be,” Kurtova continued.

“What else is there?” Josef asked. Leaving Runyth had never occurred to him before. But the soldiers they’d explored the underground world with weren’t what he’d been taught the enemy would be. They had dreams, goals, senses of honor. Even as he spoke with Captain Kurtova, Rami was telling Francis how she hoped to get more medical training once they were free from this barracks. Despite the blindfold over her eyeless face, her passion was clearly visible as she spoke with the taciturn, calculating sharpshooter beside her. Kané paced aggressively back and forth across the room, muscles bulging, muttering about how he was sure the lizard people had his niece and nephew and how he had to get back underground to rescue them as soon as possible. Enbo sat with the small droid they rescued from the shark people underground, discussing maps and mercantile endeavors.

“Other academies. Well-funded laboratories, to conduct your…experiments,” Enbo cut in. Apparently he had been eavesdropping, which Josef found irritating. However, his interest was piqued by the notion of well-funded laboratories.

“There are many such places. You’d have your pick outside of Runyth, if you so chose,” Captain Womblee confirmed.

“Tempting…” Josef admitted. Captain Kurtova watched him with a critical eye. Josef didn’t understand her purpose in doing so; it wasn’t like she could read his facial expressions through his gas mask. But they’d been through a lot together, even before the journey underground, and lost several other Runyth soldiers along the way. Despite his love of indifferent destruction, he would be sad if one of his weapons caused Captain Kurtova harm.

Then his thoughts drifted to his mother and brothers at home. He’d been promised they would be well taken care of on a government stipend as long as he worked for Runyth’s military.

“If I leave Runyth…what of my brothers? My mother?” he asked the captain.

“My report will say you were killed in action. They will receive a compensatory payment from the government for their loss, and your military pension for as long as at least your mother lives. At least, that is my understanding of how the system works,” Captain Kurtova answered. “If you were to stay, perhaps they would fare better. You will likely get a promotion, and research duties related to what we found in the below-lands.”

“But that research will be the only thing getting any funding in any country from this point on,” Captain Womblee pointed out. “And there are many prestigious labs in other countries that would be thrilled to employ a man of your…talents. They would likely give you command of your own laboratory, free to conduct whatever research and experiments you like. I’d guess you would have your pick of offers if you defect.”

Captain Kurtova nodded her agreement. “All true. As I said before, you have the opportunity to choose what you want your future to hold.”

Josef considered her words and the options before him. From what he knew of Kaansikka, Runyth was the most practical country, the place where the ends always justified the means. But did that mean it was the only place that would allow–no, encourage–no, push–Josef to create the weapons of mass destruction he designed in his dreams? How could he be sure, without the chance to explore? And could he afford to take a chance on whether he would ever get to explore again if he turned down this opportunity? Josef had never had so many metaphorical doors in front of him to choose from. In Runyth, his decisions were almost always made for him, outside of his laboratory. The lab was the only place where he had complete control: over what chemicals were combined and in what amounts, over how the results were recorded. But even then, he did not control what the chemicals did. He only hypothesized, observed, recorded, revised, reattempted. The chemicals were truly in charge.

As they are in all things, he reasoned. Memories of his coursework in biology and chemistry and physics in the Kaansikka Academy bombarded his beleaguered mind. There is still so much to discover about the world, both on the surface and in the depths.

“You do not have to decide now,” Captain Kurtova told him, breaking the silence that had blossomed between them. “Like as not we will be information prisoners for at least another day. But think about it. You may never get this chance again, and the people in this group will help you get wherever you decide you want to go.”

The other survivors of the underground looked at him with varying expressions. Kané, at least, seemed suspicious of Josef, and Rami and Francis kept their facial features unreadably impassive. But Enbo, Captain Womblee, and of course Captain Kurtova seemed sincere in this offer.

“I am considering,” Josef told them. It was true. He would consider for as long as he was allowed to do so. For someone who had made precious few choices of his own in the past, the magnitude of this decision was overwhelming. Should he stay loyal to his country and do his research at their behest and on their behalf? Or should he abandon everything he has ever known in the hopes of greater freedom in his research and experiments?

For the moment, at least, Josef found himself paralyzed with indecision. If he could just get ahold of that mask again, the one from the temple that Rami and Kané took from him, maybe the King in Yellow would offer some clarity.

Or maybe, somehow Josef would have to make this decision on his own.