Final frontier, p.23
Final Frontier, page 23
“Why are you still wearing your uniform?” Trrpais asked. “Do you still believe your ship will come for you?”
Ken squarely matched the cat’s eyes for a moment. Then, summoning every bit of strength he had, he tossed over the table. Trrpais fell back in his chair and crawled towards his bunk, hissing and ears flattened. Miichu jumped away, his dark eyes wide enough for Ken glimpse some white. The plates of meat, fruit, bread, and the bottles of water and ale crashed on the floor, their contents spilling across the room. “Yes, I do.”
“My ale!” Trrpais cried. “I will report this to ZlichHa!”
“You do that. And you tell him I will not be placated into submission.” Ken held the cat’s eyes a moment longer before going into the alcove that was the lavatory.
*
Ellen looked over her console, assuring that everything was locked down. Qeebix, a white patch standing out on his thorax, sat at a screen, appearing to read over the operating procedures a third time. At first, she was skeptical when Qeebix told her he had learned to read Human Standard, but the insect satisfactorily answered most of the questions put to him following his first read-through.
“Lieutenant.”
Ellen turned toward Tomar’s voice. He stood behind her with a woman she didn’t recognize, but the new arrival was dressed in a black uniform of the Earth Alliance Space Force, purple epaulet with a gold star on each shoulder, and two solid bars of a first lieutenant beneath the insignia. “Z. Metaxas” was on the nameplate. A pair of security guards stood at the door, watching them.
“This is Lieutenant Metaxas, chief engineer of the Ulysses,” Tomar said.
“I have been ordered to inspect your engines to make sure they conform to 2105 specifications,” the woman said. “Where is Lieutenant Commander Mandrel?”
“He’s dead,” Ellen said. “I’m in charge of engineering in his place.”
Metaxas nodded. “I am sorry. My orders stand, however, and I would prefer to have your cooperation. Having an infestation problem?”
Ellen followed the other’s eyes to the alien insect. “His name’s Qeebix. He joined our crew from the future.” Metaxas eyed her, brows cocked in disbelief.
Qeebix turned from the screen, settling his compound eyes on the visitor. “Greetings,” he said, clicking his mandibles. Metaxas briefly shot her eyes back at the insect. Her mouth moved but nothing came out.
“I have nothing to hide, but we’re presently at battle alert,” Ellen said, drawing the woman’s attention back to her. “I can’t let you inspect the inner chamber at this time. Being chief engineer yourself, I’m sure you understand.”
“Yes, of course,” Metaxas said. “For now, I am willing to limit my inspection to the control room.”
“You should also know our engines have been modified since leaving Earth. That’s how we got here a day ahead of you. Excuse us, Qeebix. Lieutenant Metaxas will need to use that screen.” Ellen offered him her hand.
“I see,” said a distracted Metaxas, her eyes following the insect as he obligingly crawled up Ellen’s arm, around the back of her neck, to finally perch on the opposite shoulder. Ellen watched Metaxas’ grimace with barely contained amusement. “Does that not bother you?”
“Not as much as it did at first. His wing muscles were injured when he deflected a Galadorian transmitter tag that was meant for me. The modifications—of the warp engines—were done by an alien.”
“The bug?”
“Another alien. A gaseous being from Triangulum.”
The other woman nodded in understanding. “Darkkon.”
“You know them?”
“They saved us from a race of robots that had captured us—they called them Zirquin. Then, they stranded us on the far side of the galaxy.”
The klaxon alarm sounded, cutting short their conversation. The deck beneath them suddenly jerked as they turned their attention to the console.
*
Victoria rushed onto the bridge, swaying with the deck. Captain Rogers followed as she grabbed the rail behind the command chair. “Report status.”
“A single vessel attacks us,” Krishnik said. “It is now behind us, coming around for another pass. The other vessel attacks Ulysses.”
Victoria saw it on the screen. The raider, much like the ships that had attacked them two days ago, strafed the other Earth ship, attempting to evade blasts from their turrets. The Ulysses scored several hits.
“Captain Rogers, I’ve a Lieutenant Commander Bailey online for you,” Gross said.
Rogers crossed over to the com-station while Victoria stepped down to her station. “Put him on. Bailey, go.”
“McClance has started his run.”
*
ZlichHa brought Ken, ushered along by two guards armed with staffs, to the small arena behind the processing building. The morning on Syrcar was just as muggy as the night, but the heat wasn’t what bothered him now. Ken rubbed the back of his neck. Trrpais hadn’t wasted any time reporting him, as he said he would. By the time Ken stepped out of the lavatory, ZlichHa had arrived with the guards and activated the tag in his neck. He still shook from the momentary burning pain.
When Ken had recovered enough to stand, ZlichHa brought him to the small arena. They stood there now while three guards brought Maxwell from the male barracks, one gripping each arm while the third followed. Another three brought Neilsen from the female barracks.
“Oh, no,” Neilsen said. “This better not be what I think it is.”
“What are you going to do to them?” Ken asked, knowing whatever it was, he was bound to hate it.
“I wonder which is stronger in your species,” ZlichHa said. “The male or the female?”
Ken glared at the alien, locking onto ZlichHa’s sinister red eyes. He relaxed his glare a little and shrugged. “Depends on a number of factors, actually. Like how one measures strength.”
Two other Galadorians arrived, dressed in red uniforms. One approached Maxwell while the other approached Neilsen, both with an alien-looking syringe. The guards tightened their grips on Maxwell until their claws punctured skin and blood oozed down his arms. The third held his head while the one in red injected the bluish serum into his neck. The same scene played out with Neilsen. Then, the guards shoved them into the arena on opposite sides, and the hatches fell shut.
Maxwell and Neilsen landed on their knees and hands. For a minute, they remained on the ground, their rate of breathing increasing, hands clawing the ground. “What did you give them?” Ken asked.
“Something to motivate them to fight,” ZlichHa said, almost casually.
Maxwell climbed to his feet, fists clenching, eyes glaring at Neilsen. Neilsen watched his every move as she first pushed herself onto her knees, then to her feet. Maxwell lunged forward. Neilsen raised her hands just as Maxwell swung back toward the mesh fence. “Fight it, Maxwell!” Ken yelled. “You, too, Neilsen!”
“Tell him!” Neilsen held her eyes on the man across the arena.
“I am, damn it!” Maxwell yelled back. His hands gripped the fence hard enough that his knuckles turned white. One of the guards stepped up to Maxwell with a staff and swung at the fence. A blue glow spread along the mesh fence, forcing Maxwell back with a cry. He whirled about, eyes settling on Neilsen across the arena, and charged.
Ken stepped up to the fence, grabbing the wire mesh. “Control yourselves!”
Maxwell ignored him, raised his left fist, and threw it toward the woman. Neilsen caught his fist with her right hand, and jabbed her left elbow into his gut. Maxwell doubled over, coughing, but he seemed to recover quickly enough to wrap his right arm behind Neilsen’s knees, and pulled her legs out from under her. Neilsen cried as she fell back.
“Maxwell! Neilsen! Control yourselves, damn you!”
“It is too late,” ZlichHa said, hissing in his ear. “The drug has taken over.”
Ken met his cold eyes, glaring…until the alien’s com-link signaled. He removed it from his belt, giving Ken a glimpse of the device he used to activate the neural tags. Maybe if he was fast enough, he could grab the device and activate Maxwell and Neilsen’s tags. Maybe that would override the drug. At least until the Galadorians restrained him.
“Excellency, we have engaged the two Earth ships near the third planet,” a voice said from the link. “But a smaller ship has entered our atmosphere. It seems to be following the trail of LichVi’s ship from yesterday.”
ZlichHa met Ken’s eyes. Inwardly, Ken sighed with relief, but he fought to keep is excitement under control. Ken turned back to his people in the arena—along the way, catching another glimpse of the neural remote on ZlichHa’s belt. Rescue was nearby. He would have to hold off the Galadorians just a short while longer—hopefully a short while.
Maxwell stood over Neilsen and raised a foot as if to stomp on her. Neilsen wrapped an arm around his other leg and rolled. This time, it was Maxwell who fell back with a cry.
“I have summoned our remaining ships in orbit.”
“No, you dud! That will only bring the smaller ship here faster. Then, they will transmit the coordinates to their mothership. Tell KrilZha to break out the pulse rifles. ZlichHa out.” He switched off the com-link. Without a further thought, Ken swung around, rammed his elbow as hard as he could into ZlichHa’s torso, and grabbed the tag remote from his belt. ZlichHa growled as he stumbled back. Ken ran around, evading the guards with the staffs, while keeping the device pointed at his people—just now struggling back to their feet—and pressed random buttons until they cried out in unison and doubled over, each reaching a hand to the backs of their necks.
Something like a laser blast hit Ken’s right shoulder. He yelled and dropped the remote. He cradled his right arm, teeth clenched and eyes squinting in pain. He looked up at ZlichHa and the eight guards gathered between him and the small arena. ZlichHa seemed more amused than angered. “Do not get your hopes up for a rescue.” Then, to his people. “Take him back. Take them all back and keep guard on them—including the overseers.”
*
The guard shoved Ken into the overseer barracks and slammed the door with a loud clang! while he tumbled to his knee, smashing his burning shoulder into the floor. He cried out, blinding pain shooting through his arm and down his spine. He rolled onto his back, eyes clenched. All he could do for several minutes was lay there, his breath shaky.
A gentle hand touched his good shoulder. Ken opened his eyes to see Miichu kneeling beside him. Ken met dark eyes as the alien reached across to his right shoulder and lifted the shirt. “Did they shoot you?”
“Yes,” Ken said, managing a shaky nod. “Some kind of a laser weapon. They were forcing two of my people to fight each other. I tried to stop it.” Ken told them about his attempt with the tag remote. Miichu stood and went to the table, which had been reset with two fresh bottles—one with water, the other with Trrpais’ ale.
“You see what happens when you defy them?” Trrpais asked, once again seated at the table. “What are you doing with that water?”
Miichu returned to Ken’s side with the water bottle and a cup. He circled around to kneel at Ken’s wounded shoulder.
“They did the same with my people when I first arrived,” Miichu said as he poured a cup of water. “I wish I had the courage to try what you did.” The Thorn poured the cup of water over Ken’s shoulder. Ken hummed as the cool liquid soothed the burning pain.
“Nothing has changed,” Trrpais said.
“My goal...” Ken turned his head toward the cat, “is to hold out as long as possible.”
Trrpais let out a quiet hiss as he turned away in disgust. “Are you still clinging to that ridiculous notion that you will be saved?”
“My ships are in the system. A support craft has entered the atmosphere, following the trail of the ship that brought us here. ZlichHa has ordered his remaining ships to remain in orbit—so as to not draw attention.” But the guards outside were ready to counter the support ship with pulse rifles. He had no idea how powerful these pulse rifles were, but enough of them could prevent the ship from landing, if not bring it down altogether. Ken braced himself against the screaming pain in his arm as he sat up.
“I think you should lay still,” Miichu said.
Ken supported himself with his good arm. “No time now. When the ship arrives, we must do our part to draw the guards’ fire.”
“We?” Trrpais asked through a low, annoyed growl.
“If you help me, my people can free you and your people along with mine.”
“If you fail, you will incur the wrath of our captors. Again!”
“If I fail, I will most likely be dead. But at least I won’t have to watch my people forced into gladiatorial matches with each other, with your peoples, or with some other creature sentient or otherwise.”
“You sit here if you want and be comfortable in your cage,” Miichu said. He looked up at Ken. “I have done enough of that. I will help.”
“Did you forget you have a tag in your brain stem?”
“Fortunately, it appears that the commandant is the only one with the remote. We’ll wait until the ship arrives and the guards are distracted before we make our move.” Ken turned his eyes toward the closed door. He knew ZlichHa had placed guards on that door, but he didn’t know how many. At least the two that had returned him. He wondered if they had also locked the door.
With a deep breath to steel himself against the pain in his arm, Ken climbed to his feet and approached the door. He tried the latch. Yes, it was locked.
Ken turned from the door and looked around the room. “We’re going to need to draw them in.” His eyes settled on the table where Trrpais was pouring himself more ale. Ken dashed to the table and, just as Trrpais was setting it down, snatched the bottle out of the cat’s hand and put the top on.
He hissed. “What are you going to do with that?”
“Miichu, when you hear a ship overhead, smash this against the door.”
“Gladly,” Miichu said as he took the bottle.
“No! Not again!” Trrpais stood and tried to intercept the bottle. Miichu met Trrpais’ glaring eyes and held up the bottle as if ready to strike.
“Against the door or against your head.”
Trrpais hissed again, then backed off. “At least I will enjoy watching as you are both tortured in creative ways.”
Ken ignored him and, with his good arm, grabbed a chair from the table. He carried it to the door and stood beside it, back to the wall, while Miichu stood directly in front, bottle in hand. They stayed like that, listening to the sky, for several long minutes.
Ken’s initial excitement started to wane. Perhaps the trail had already dissipated too much for the support ship to follow. “How long are you two statues intending to stay like that?” Trrpais asked.
“Shhh! I hear something,” Miichu said, ears twitching. “Something from the sky.” Ken could not, but he supposed Thorn ears had a higher range than his Human ears. Sure enough, a minute later, he noticed a hum—like a small craft approaching, gradually becoming louder.
“I hear it now, too,” Ken said. “Wait until it’s overhead.”
So, they waited while the hum grew ever louder. Then, they heard thunder, followed almost immediately by a nearby explosion that shook the ground. The door buzzed and the lights shut off. As soon as the explosions subsided, Ken yelled, “Now!”
Miichu swung the bottle at the door with all his might, resulting in a very satisfying crash. Miichu quickly grabbed the neck shard and stepped back while Ken held up the chair with both hands—clenching his teeth against the scream of pain in his right. The latch disengaged, and the door swung open. Miichu ran, ducking between the first guard’s legs. Ken, yelling through the pain in his arm, swung the chair with all the strength he could muster. First, he hit the arm wielding the gun, which fell to the floor. Then, he rammed one of the chair legs into the reptile’s lower jaw.
The guard stumbled back, a clawed hand to his neck. Ken dropped the chair and picked up the pistol, aimed, and squeezed the trigger. A rapid-fire energy beam lashed out at the guard. The guard was barely down as Ken charged out the door to find the second guard on the ground, his throat and thighs slit, red blood soaking the ground beneath him. Miichu stood over his head, the bottle shard at his feet, a pistol now in hand.
The roar of engines and deep-pitched sounds of energy weapons fire drew Ken’s attention to the opposite side of the arena. A small rectangular vessel with nacelles similar to those on the Frontier flew over the landing platform, evading purple energy pulses from the ground.
Ken returned his attention to the ground and the dead guards. Miichu joined him beside the wall, first pointing at the guards, then around the corner. Ken knelt to his level. “Another guard?”
“Two possibly.” Miichu matched Ken’s quiet tone. “It is hard to be sure by scent with these two.” Miichu gestured to the dead guards.
Ken nodded his understanding, turned his attention to the corner, and raised his pistol. Most likely one or two guards lurked around that corner, waiting to ambush them. All other guards would be deployed to cover the other prisoners and to engage the ship. A massive explosion across the arena threw an orange glow over the compound. Ken stepped forward and, keeping concealed behind the barracks, aimed blindly around the corner and squeezed the trigger. He was awarded with a yell as he scored a hit. He fired several more times high and low before he stood and turned the corner. A single guard was on the ground, a carbonized hole in his chest.
“I will free the females,” Miichu said, speaking over the roar of the ship’s engines as it banked over them. “You free the males.”
“Agreed.” Ken and Miichu took off running toward the female barracks. Two guards standing there saw them and retrained their rifles. Ken and Miichu squeezed their triggers first. Miichu hit one. Ken’s target ducked and fired a stream of pulses that hit the ground near Miichu’s feet. Miichu returned fire and hit the guard.
