Page 155 of Claimed By the Condemned Alien

Dreven’s patrol moved in pairs, weapons raised. Keth inspected the watch platforms while Tavi’s older sister, Jessa, checked the mechanical traps along the wall. None had fired.

“Could they have evacuated?” Kesta asked.

“Without water?” Keth pointed toward the storage cistern. “Full.”

“Food?”

“Enough for half a cycle.”

Dreven crouched near the center fire. His fingers hovered above a pattern of impressions in the dust. “They gathered here.” Kesta joined him. The marks formed orderly lines. Bare feet, boots, hooves, one wide serpentine track. No signs of struggle.

“They walked out.”

“Or were commanded to.”

At the far side of the square, Sera called Kesta into the infirmary. The room had been stripped of medicines but not equipment. Restraint straps hung from one examination platform. On the floor beneath it lay three drops of clear gel. Kesta sampled the residue. Her scanner identified synthetic neural suppressant, current imperial manufacture.

“This was opened recently.”

Sera touched a black mark on the wall. “Burn from a sterilization wand.”

“Imperial?”

“Or stolen.”

Dreven entered. Kesta showed him the scan. His face became still in the way that meant violence had moved beneath the surface.

“We search every dwelling,” he said.

The search divided Hallow Camp into evidence zones. Keth objected to the term until Kesta explained that evidence was simply memory protected from fear. He assigned pairs to each dwelling and ordered no object moved without a marker. Jessa sketched room layouts in charcoal. Sera catalogued medicines. Dreven walked the perimeter twice, reading tracks where Kesta saw only damaged dust.

In the largest sleeping hall, thirty pallets had been stripped of blankets but left aligned. Bowls sat nested beside the wall. Personal charms remained hanging from roof hooks.

“They packed selectively,” Kesta said.

“Or were told what to carry,” Keth replied.

A cooking pot still held dried grain paste. Kesta touched the rim. The residue had hardened in layers.

“They left after meal preparation began.”

Dreven crouched near the doorway. “No one ran.”

“That may mean compliance.”

“Or paralysis.”

Sera found puncture marks in a pallet frame. Four equidistant holes, each containing a trace of clear gel.

“Gas distribution?” Kesta asked.

“Not through the air,” Sera said. “Through the sleeping mats. Contact sedative.”

The orderly footprints in the square took on a different meaning. People could walk while drugged. They could line up. They could appear calm. A child’s woven animal lay beneath one pallet, half hidden by dust. Kesta lifted it with gloved hands. Inside the repaired leg, something clicked. Jessa cut the seam. A memory bead rolled into her palm.

The final recording showed a child’s viewpoint: adults standing in rows beneath white light; black drones hovering at shoulder height; a voice repeating instructions in six languages.

PROTECTED TRANSFER. NO RESISTANCE REQUIRED.