Chapter 22 - The Cost of Rebellion

  Darius lounged on the edge of his bunk, flicking the cred-chip between his fingers. The smooth, reflective surface caught the dim light of his shared room.

  He hadn’t quite managed to empty his account – mostly because he was limited by the maximum denomination of cred-chip that the dispensary stored. In this case, the most he could load onto any one card was two-and-a-half thousand credits. Hardly the end of the world – he somehow doubted the three-hundred-odd credits he had left in his account would be the difference between success and failure.

  Even if it was, he could always do the same trick again.

  Darius had to admit, he hadn’t expected success to feel so satisfying, but even now, hours later, he could barely keep the grin from his face. He’d pulled it off. Not randomly, not through luck, not because he had no other options. Not even because the Freeholders helped him.

  He’d done it because he wanted to.

  Sure, he couldn’t have done it without Echo hacking the dispensary long enough for him to actually access his account, not to mention the AI helped him avoid cameras long enough to get to an abandoned sector where he could disappear, but it was still different than before. He’d chosen to work with the AI, and that made all the difference.

  His musings were interrupted by a low murmur from the living room. It started faint, a ripple of voices that gradually grew louder. He frowned, sitting up and shoving the cred-chip into his pocket.

  By the time he’d gotten back from ducking through abandoned buildings in an effort to shake off any potential pursuit, only Corin had still been out. Harlan, of course, hadn’t left in the first place, and apparently all Lena had wanted was to duck down to the shops to buy some snacks.

  Tarek had gone for a longer wander but had still gotten back earlier than Darius himself. The time spent alone had released a fair amount of tension between everyone, so he was surprised to hear what sounded like an argument brewing already.

  Darius swung his legs off the bunk and wandered toward the common area, the low murmur of voices growing clearer with each step. He rubbed the back of his neck, wondering what could have set everyone off already. The others had barely exchanged more than a few words earlier, and the mood had seemed neutral enough when he’d ducked into his room.

  As he approached, the sound sharpened into distinct voices, though none of them were particularly loud.

  “You think they’ll really enforce it everywhere?” Lena’s voice carried a hint of unease, her usual cheeriness noticeably absent.

  “Of course they will,” Tarek replied, his tone clipped. “The Empire doesn’t make idle threats. You know how this works – they push until someone pushes back, and then they push harder.”

  Darius rounded the corner, leaning casually against the doorway.

  “What did I miss?” he asked lightly.

  “Great news!” Tarek replied sarcastically, gesturing to the tiny screen of what passed for an entertainment unit in this place.

  A stern-faced Imperial official filled the display, their voice calm but edged with authority. “...to ensure order and security in light of recent disturbances. Effective immediately, all non-essential movement within residential sectors is restricted from 1900 to 0600 hours. Identification checkpoints will be established at all major thoroughfares, and compliance is mandatory.”

  The feed cut to footage of armoured Imperial patrols, already setting up temporary checkpoints and marching through the streets.

  “I’m guessing this is going to make things a lot harder for us,” Darius said, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

  “Give the man a prize,” Tarek muttered, fingers tapping restlessly on the table.

  Behind them, Harlan strode out from his room with a grimace on his face. “Is Corin back yet?” he asked sharply.

  “No, haven’t heard from him,” Lena replied, subdued.

  “Is this normal?” Darius asked Harlan, waving a hand at the screen. “Voss mentioned something about not seeing these kinds of reactions until later on in the ‘process’. Forgot to ask about what this ‘process’ actually is.”

  Harlan grimaced, and Darius thought he wouldn’t answer for a second. “Yes, this is something that we expect, but not this quick.” When nobody looked satisfied with that answer, he heaved a sigh and pulled out a chair for himself. “Look, the Freeholders have been around for a while now. This isn’t the first world we’ve had a presence on, not by a long shot. Over time, we’ve developed a process,” he put emphasis on the word, “of getting rid of the Empire. It doesn’t always work, but it usually does.”

  “So, it’s like a master plan?” Lena asked, perking up.

  “Something like that,” Harlan chuckled at her enthusiasm. “A better way to describe it might be a general set of guidelines to follow more than a plan. The Empire doesn’t encourage creativity from its commanders. Generally speaking, most of them are going to react the same way to the same set of circumstances. We’ve learned to take advantage of that and develop our operations in specific ways that allow us the most time possible to grow without being detected, and once we are detected, we’re able to make the most of every opportunity.”

  “But this is different, isn’t it?” Darius asked, not fooled by the casual way Harlan was saying all of this. Listening to him made it sound like everything was under control, that the Freeholders knew exactly what they were doing. But Darius hadn’t forgotten Voss’s comments, nor the stressed look on her face. If that was what it looked like when things were ‘going to plan’, he’d hate to see what they called chaos.

  “…Things are moving faster than usual,” Harlan admitted after a pause. “It’s not that we’re seeing anything new; it’s just… out of order, you could say.”

  “In what way?” This time, Tarek was asking uncomfortable questions.

  Harlan hesitated for a longer moment this time. “Look,” he said finally, “I understand that you’re curious about how this works, but there’s a reason you haven’t been told this yet.” He held up his hands, warding off the offended looks he got for that. “That said, things are not happening normally here, so I’m willing to tell you some more. We’ll wait until Corin gets back so I don’t have to repeat myself.”

  Darius leaned back in his chair, satisfied. While he didn’t expect Harlan would tell them everything about how this thing was going to work, any information would be helpful. While he was getting along with the Freeholders better than he expected, he hadn’t forgotten that he was only here for one reason – to get away from the Empire.

  The enemy of my enemy wasn’t always a friend, after all.

  – – –

  It didn’t take long for everyone to settle into a patient sort of anticipation. On the one hand, there was nothing they could do about the new measure implemented by the Empire, but on the other hand, it felt like they needed to react somehow. Even if only by being prepared.

  The sound of the safehouse door opening drew their attention. Corin stepped inside, brushing a light coating of dust from his jacket.

  “Thought you weren’t coming back,” Lena quipped, though the relief in her voice was noticeable.

  “Miss me already?” Corin shot back, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Had to take a few detours. They’re setting up checkpoints faster than I expected. Had to double back twice to avoid being scanned.”

  Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.

  That brought a frown to Harlan’s face. “How bad is it?”

  Corin moved further into the room, leaning his weight against the back of a chair. “Bad enough. They’re not just setting up on the main routes—they’ve got smaller alleys covered too. It’s going to be a pain to move around from now on.”

  “Fantastic,” Tarek muttered, crossing his arms.

  “Better get used to it,” Corin added. “This isn’t a short-term thing. They’ve got enough gear coming in to keep those checkpoints running for a while.”

  Harlan gestured to him. “Sit down. We were just about to get into some details about how all this works.”

  Corin raised an eyebrow but obliged, settling into the chair. The others adjusted their seats, all of them unconsciously leaning in as Harlan shifted to address them.

  “All right,” Harlan began, his voice steady. “I mentioned earlier that the Freeholders have a process—a way of going about things when it comes to kicking the Empire off a planet. It’s not a foolproof plan, but it’s something we’ve refined over the years. You need to understand what it is and where we are in it, especially now that things are moving faster than we’d like.”

  The older man folded his hands in front of him, pausing for a moment as if considering how to begin. “It starts small,” he said. “When we come to a new planet, we don’t act right away. We take our time to get a feel for the place, the people. Every world is different. Some planets are fine under Imperial rule—they might not like it, but they’ve made it work. In those cases, we leave. No sense starting trouble where it isn’t wanted, and people won’t thank us for needlessly disturbing their lives.”

  “But if they do want the Empire gone?” Tarek asked, leaning forward.

  Harlan nodded. “Then we dig in. Quietly, at first. We find sympathetic ears, people who can provide information or safe places to operate. Supplies, contacts, dead drops—anything that gives us a foundation. We’re not looking to fight yet. The goal at this stage is simple: make sure we can survive when things heat up.”

  “Which they always do,” Corin said dryly, leaning back in his chair.

  “They always do,” Harlan confirmed. “That’s the phase we’re supposed to be in now. Taking things slow and steady, not rocking the boat, but preparing. It’s slow work, but it’s necessary. The Empire doesn’t notice—or if they do, they think it’s just the usual smuggling or minor resistance that comes with ruling a place.”

  “And once you’re prepared?” Darius asked intently.

  “Then we escalate,” Harlan said, his voice growing sharper. “Not enough to be seen as a real threat, but enough to test the waters. Small thefts, minor disruptions. Things that inconvenience the Empire without drawing too much attention. It lets us gather more resources and recruit more people. And it starts to get under their skin.”

  “Is that kinda like the job we did on the records building?” Lena asked curiously.

  “Eh, sort of,” Harlan replied, waggling a hand in a so-so motion. “That was a little out of the ordinary itself, but close enough. Generally speaking, we’d keep things a little lower-key than that – the records building might not have been terribly important, but it was an official Imperial administrative site. That attracts more attention than we would usually bother with, but the Empire had started to escalate by then anyway, so it was worth doing.”

  Darius leaned back in his chair, taking a moment to digest the information. Having it all spelled out so bluntly was a little confronting. He’d gone from thinking the Freeholders were a useless group that got his brother killed, to thinking they weren’t as bad as he thought and it might not have been their fault, to now learning that everything was part of some larger plan to systematically disrupt the Empire.

  He resisted the urge to groan. Why did everything have to be this complicated? All he wanted was to be left alone to live his life out.

  “Speaking of escalation, how does that usually go?” Corin asked, more interested than Darius had seen before.

  Harlan spread his hands. “It’s predictable. They increase patrols, crack down on anyone who steps out of line. Curfews, checkpoints, more surveillance. They want to show the populace they’re in control.”

  “Which only makes the populace hate them more,” Lena said, catching on. “It’s a cycle.”

  “Exactly,” Harlan said with a small smile. “That’s when we move to the next phase. We escalate again—bigger targets, more visible actions. We start hitting supply depots, industrial facilities, anything that hurts their ability to keep the planet running smoothly. And all the while, we’re using their crackdowns as propaganda. The more oppressive they get, the more people join us.”

  “And if they don’t?” Darius asked, his tone cutting through the growing enthusiasm in the room. “If people don’t join you?”

  Harlan’s gaze turned to him, steady but unreadable. “Then we adapt,” he said. “This process isn’t about forcing people to fight. It’s about giving them the chance to stand up when they’re ready. If they’re not ready, we scale back. Move slower. We don’t want to create chaos for the sake of it.”

  Darius wasn’t entirely convinced. Everything Harlan said sounded measured, calculated even, but there was no denying that the Freeholders were attempting to deliberately engineer conflict in order to attain their goals.

  “What happens after the industrial targets?” Lena asked, breaking the silence.

  “That’s when we start going for the big hits,” Harlan said. “Military assets, supply convoys, key personnel. We want to make it impossible for the Empire to maintain control without pouring in massive resources. And by that point, the population is usually ready to rise up. Once the riots start, the Empire has a choice: stay and fight a war they can’t win, or leave.”

  “And they usually leave,” Corin said, his tone neutral.

  Harlan inclined his head. “More often than not. The Empire isn’t built to handle long-term unrest. It’s not cost-effective for them. Especially for a world like Caldera IV – what do they get here that they can’t get from a dozen other worlds in greater quantities with half the effort?”

  Tarek grinned. “So, we push them until it’s not worth the trouble.”

  “That’s the idea,” Harlan said with a rueful smile.

  The room fell silent as everybody processed the information. “Wait, hang on,” Darius said suddenly, “How do you guys not already know this?” he asked, gesturing at Corin, Tarek, and Lena. “Obviously, I didn’t know how the Freeholders operated, but haven’t you been with them for years?” He turned to Lena. “Wasn’t Harlan saying you’ve been with them for a decade?”

  Lena shifted a little uncomfortably in her seat at being made the centre of attention. “I mean, sure, technically I’ve been a Freeholder for ten years,” she confirmed, “But it’s not like they send kids to worlds like this, where the Empire is still in charge.”

  “Besides, you don’t think we just pack up and leave once the Empire’s finally been kicked off a world, do you?” Harlan broke in lightly. “Most Freeholders are just… normal people, living their lives free from the Empire. It’s only a tiny fraction that are willing to travel to new worlds and help out there.”

  That seemed to satisfy the others. Tarek leaned back in his chair, nodding thoughtfully, while Lena offered a tentative smile, looking relieved that her lack of experience wasn’t seen as a flaw. Corin, as ever, appeared content to let the conversation wind down.

  Darius, on the other hand, wasn’t feeling particularly satisfied.

  He kept his expression carefully neutral, but his mind churned. The more Harlan talked about their so-called “process,” the more glaring the cracks became. Sure, it was clever—he’d give them that. Systematic, methodical, and designed to exploit the Empire’s weaknesses. But it was also ruthless. Manipulative. Maybe even downright cruel.

  What Harlan hadn’t said – but what seemed evident to Darius – was that the Freeholders weren’t just liberating worlds. They were deliberately making those worlds worse before they got better, fanning the flames of misery and then pointing the desperate and angry at the Empire like a loaded gun. It was smart, sure. It was also the kind of plan someone came up with when they didn’t have to live through the fallout themselves.

  Darius leaned back, keeping his posture loose as he watched the others. Tarek and Lena were fully on board. Corin seemed harder to read, but there was a certain ease to the way he listened that suggested he wasn’t about to raise any objections. Of course they were fine with it; they’d signed up for this. Hell, they probably believed in it, down to their bones.

  Darius hadn’t signed up for anything.

  The Freeholders might have helped him out of a tight spot, but that didn’t mean he owed them anything. And the more he heard about their grand plan, the less inclined he felt to stick around.

  Sure, the Empire wasn’t exactly a paragon of virtue. He’d grown up under its shadow and seen firsthand how oppressive it could be. Even just looking at the number of fines he’d been slapped with was enough for him to dislike them, not to mention his stint in prison.

  But for all its faults, it had a kind of stability to it. Darius was honest enough to realise that he had what a teacher had once referred to as a ‘disruptive personality’. Most normal people could live their lives without too much interference as long as they kept their heads down. The Freeholders, on the other hand, seemed hell-bent on blowing everything up – sometimes literally, by the sounds of it – and damn the consequences.

  Darius resisted the urge to sigh. He could already see how this was going to play out. From what Harlan had described, the process was supposed to be measured, calculated. But they weren’t following the process, were they? Things were already moving faster than expected, spiralling out of control. The curfews, the checkpoints – that wasn’t supposed to happen yet. It didn’t matter if it was related to his situation or not; the Empire was reacting too quickly, and the Freeholders weren’t ready for it.

  And where, exactly, did that leave him?

  I need to get off this ride.

  That thought came unbidden, but once it was there, it refused to leave. The Freeholders weren’t his people. They weren’t his cause. And if he stuck with them, he’d end up swept along in their spiral of escalation, caught in a war he didn’t ask for and didn’t want to fight.

  The problem was he didn’t have any other options. Not yet. The Empire would still be hunting him, Echo was still stuck in his head, slowly turning him into a vegetable, and it wasn’t like he could just waltz back to his old life and pretend none of this had happened.

  For now, he was stuck.

  But that didn’t mean he had to stay stuck.

  Darius leaned back a little further, letting the conversation wash over him without really listening. His mind was already working, running through possibilities and half-formed ideas. He didn’t have a plan yet, but that was fine. Plans were overrated anyway.

  What mattered was figuring out his next move. Because one way or another, he wasn’t going to let himself get dragged any deeper into this mess. He’d find a way out.

  He always did.