Final Frontier, page 22
“Then what? You’ll kill me?”
“Eventually. Perhaps after you have lived with the memory for a few years.”
“In meantime,” Glidrah said, “I know where your ships are. Refuse offer, and I order cruisers to converge on and destroy all three.”
Again, these aliens referred to other Earth ships in that region of the galaxy besides the Frontier. They had mentioned the Ulysses earlier as an Alliance ship. What was the third ship? Russian, perhaps?
His people might prefer to die quickly than to endure the torture these reptiles were likely to put them through. He sure would. Glidrah could be bluffing about knowing the whereabouts of the Ulysses and the other ship, but he could very well be telling the truth. The reptiles could tell him where to start looking for the Frontier.
“Perhaps you need incentive,” ZlichHa said. “Bring him.”
At once, the guards grabbed Ken’s arms, pulled him to his feet, and pushed him toward the window. On the ground below, four guards ushered his shipmates, stripped bare and their hands bound behind them, into the main arena. Aguilar led her shipmates into the arena, eyes locked forward. Neilsen followed, constantly looking back-and-forth between their guards. Then, Jenkins and Maxwell, each walking with fresh limps. Visible bruises on their legs and arms told him it was more than just the ground they walked on unprotected. Ken felt his glare deepen at their humiliation. He turned the glare on the lead reptile.
ZlichHa met it with red, reptilian eyes. They were cold and hard. He had likely overseen hundreds of individuals of many different species broken and killed under the harsh treatment of his guards. ZlichHa, himself, was probably directly responsible for more than a few. “Who will die first?”
“What do you want?” Ken asked.
“Your cooperation.” ZlichHa turned back to his desk. “Proceed,” he said, his voice echoing over the camp’s PA system. “Select your own victims.”
“You’re just going to torture them anyways.”
A guard swung his staff and struck Neilsen. She cried out and fell to her knees. Blue tendrils ran down her body. With her hands bound behind her, she tumbled forward, face to the ground.
“Two hundred on Ulysses,” Glidrah said, “two hundred on Bolshevik, however many on your own ship will be spared.”
As Neilsen struggled to her knees, another guard struck Jenkins. He, too, cried out and fell to his knees, but managed to stop himself there.
Ken flinched. “Damn it, you said you would execute them immediately.”
“‘Immediate’ is relative,” ZlichHa said. “They will indeed die much quicker if you refuse our offer, but still painfully to be sure, and in whatever creative ways we can think of. How much pain can you Humans endure, we wonder.” He bared his teeth in a sinister smile.
Maxwell and Aguilar were hit in rapid succession. Then, Jenkins again. Ken flinched with each strike and looked between his people and ZlichHa and finally settled on Glidrah. “How do I know you really know where our ships are?”
Glidrah pulled a com-link from his belt and activated it. “Chancellor Glidrah here.”
“Yes, Chancellor,” said a voice coming from the com-link.
Glidrah held Ken’s eyes as he spoke into the device. “Captain Pildrak, bring up the coordinates of the Earth ships. Tell the four ships nearest to the Ulysses and the four nearest to the Bolshevik to stand by.”
“Understood.”
Ken fought to maintain a firm stance against Glidrah’s dark eyes, trying to call the alien’s bluff—he hoped it was a bluff. But, considering what he knew of the alien, the reptiles he associated with, and what they were currently doing to his people... Ken looked out the window at his shipmates in time to see a guard strike Jenkins again. He flinched. If he agreed to their offer, his shipmates would be spared the immediate discomfort, only to be tortured over a longer period of time. He imagined them replacing the rodent aliens at the stakes with giant centipedes crawling toward them. But the ships would be spared. He had to consider the greater number. There was also the possibility of keeping his shipmates alive long enough to try to escape or be rescued. Ken took a deep breath and nodded.
“Stand down,” Glidrah said, and he deactivated his com-link.
ZlichHa repeated the command over the PA system. “Take them to their respective barracks.”
“Respective?” Ken asked.
ZlichHa pulled a device from his belt and stepped toward Ken. “Do not move,” he said just as Ken took a reflexive step back. The guards grabbed and squeezed his arms hard enough that Ken feared his bones would snap. “We keep males and females in separate barracks. As Overseer, you will have free access to both, provided you allow me to adjust your transponder.” The lead reptile reached behind Ken’s neck with the device for just a moment. Then, to the guards, “Take him to the Overseer Barracks.”
The guards pulled him non-too-gently around the desk toward the door.
*
The guards shoved him inside and slammed the door shut behind him. He whirled to glare back at the door. Strangely, they didn’t lock it—at least, he didn’t hear it lock. There was probably no need to. They would simply track him with his transponder. ZlichHa was probably just waiting for him to try to escape and give him a reason to inflict more pain upon him and his shipmates—or just his shipmates.
Ken, now noticing the air-conditioned environment—not cold, but much more comfortable than outside—turned from the door to find two diminutive aliens sharing his accommodations. Sitting at a table in the center of the room, a representative of the cat aliens and a representative of the rodent aliens. They looked like children compared to the furniture. The rodent was on his feet, eyes on his new bunkmate, while the cat remained sitting on the opposite side of the table, studying the cup in his hands. Both wore matching gray trousers while their fuzzy torsos were bare. Whether it was an effort to stay cool, forced upon them by their captors, or if being topless was normal for them, Ken couldn’t decide. “So, you are the new arrival,” the cat said, keeping his eyes on his drink for a moment longer before finally looking up. He had a bit of a potbelly.
Ken scanned the room. Four bunks on each side of the room, stacked in sets of two, a small window between each set. Closets and cupboards lined the wall opposite the door. The place had all the comforts of home—that is, if he didn’t think about the reptiles outside and the torture camp they were running. The guards had taken him by the small arena with the two rodent aliens again. One had been sitting, staring straight ahead while the other was slumped over. The centipede had been working its way out of a fresh hole in the latter’s chest, covered in blood. All the while, two of the reptiles exchanged some kind of currency.
Ken shook his head, trying to clear his mind of the memory. Instead, he focused on the two with him now. “Kenneth McClance of the Earth Alliance. Human.”
“Trrpais,” the cat said. “Nelfi Overseer.”
“Miichu, Thorn,” the rodent said.
“Join us. Have a drink. Miichu, get him a cup.” Trrpais waved toward the chair between him and Miichu. As Miichu went to the cupboard, Ken stepped up to the table and took the seat Trrpais indicated.
“How long have you two been here?”
“Over two months,” Miichu said, returning to the table with a small cup. “Trrpais was already here when I arrived.”
Ken poured himself the water and, eager to soothe his parched throat, drank. He paused for a moment, humming with pleasure. Finally, he swallowed and savored the cool liquid.
“I arrived not long before Miichu—with his less-cooperative predecessor,” Trrpais said. “It could be worse. We could be suffering with the rest of our people.”
Miichu shook his head while Ken, recovering from his moment of euphoria, glared at the cat. “It doesn’t bother you that your people are being forced to fight a much larger opponent—to the death? That they’re being bred for food? That they are tied to stakes while centipedes bore through them?”
“As long as I’m not suffering with them, no.”
“It does bother me,” Miichu said. “But what can we do about it?”
Ken shook his head. He had been thinking about that since his meeting with ZlichHa and Glidrah. “I haven’t figured that out yet. I’m hoping my ship manages to track us here.”
“That should go away in a week,” Trrpais said. “Probably sooner.”
Ken shook his head again, this time to fight away the doubt creeping into his mind. He knew it was a long shot, but hope, he suspected, would be the only thing to keep him from turning into Trrpais. Ken finished his water and stood up. “I’m going to check on my people.”
III
Ship Calendar: 20 March 2105 A.D.
“THEY’RE HERE,” Gross said from her station. On the screen, E.A.S. Ulysses approached. Stoner stood and positioned herself in front of the command chair.
“They are locking weapons again,” Krishnik said.
“Hail them,” Victoria said just as a repeating beep drew Gross’ attention to her console.
“They’re hailing us.” The screen blinked to a scowling Captain Rogers, replacing the approaching Ulysses.
“You have one minute to satisfactorily explain, if you are supposed to be Mankind’s first starship, how you have arrived here a full day ahead of us.”
“I thought we agreed to postpone all that until we have rescued our people,” Victoria said.
“Your people, whatever they are.” Rogers glanced at someone off-screen, then returned his attention to Stoner.
“As I stated in our communique,” Victoria said, “while we waited, we gathered intel on the second planet—where our people are being held.”
“I'll be over to coordinate with you. And I am keeping my turrets locked on you.” With that, Rogers looked back at his com-station. The screen blinked to once again show the Ulysses, now hanging in space with eight turrets trained on them.
Victoria scowled back at the ship for a long moment before she returned to her station. She brought up the layout of the alien settlement. Yesterday, they traced the engine trail of the alien ship to an area on the second planet. When the planet’s rotation brought the coordinates into view, they were able to scan the area.
The engine trail led to a complex with buildings arranged in a rough circle, a kilometer southeast of another group of buildings. Unfortunately, they were too far to distinguish individuals, so they couldn’t be sure which structures housed their people. In any case, it was highly improbable that the aliens had conveniently put them all in the same cell.
“Two of the remaining ships have left orbit,” Krishnik said. “They are bound for our coordinates.”
“Main screen,” Victoria said.
A tactical grid replaced the image of the Ulysses, showing the second and third planets of the system. Two red blips representing spaceships left three others around the second planet. They blinked toward the third planet and the blue blips that represented the Frontier and the Ulysses.
“Arrival of Ulysses probably got their attention,” Krishnik said. As they watched, a third blip appeared near the third planet. “Ulysses just launched a shuttle.”
Victoria stood and stepped up to the operations deck. “I’ll meet Captain Rogers’ shuttle. Go to battle alert. Gross, have a security detail meet me in the launch bay lounge.”
*
With red lights flashing around her, Victoria studied the screen in the launch bay lounge, currently showing the tactical layout of the second and third planets. The two ships en route to their position were now nearly half-way between the two planets. The door to the launch bay opened. Victoria turned to see two of her security officers enter with Rogers and an entourage—a female officer, a lieutenant and engineer by her rank bars and purple epaulets, and a dozen security officers led by a man with a black goatee, lieutenant bars, and a rifle held ready.
“You’re monitoring the incoming ships?” Rogers asked.
Victoria nodded and directed his attention to the screen. “Originally, there were eight ships in orbit of the second planet.”
“Yes, you reported that in your communique. Why am I only seeing five here?”
Victoria glared at the captain. She was just about to explain when Rogers cut her off. “Twelve hours ago,” she said, struggling to maintain her composure, “three of them left, including the largest. Now, two of the remaining are approaching our position, as you can see. They probably detected your arrival. Now, your turn. What’s with all the muscle?”
Instead of answering, Rogers took his com-link from a belt-mounted pocket, all the while keeping his eyes on the screen. “Ulysses. Bailey, do you read?”
“We read you, Captain. The two Galadorian ships are definitely closing on our position.”
“The Frontier reads the same. Come about, but keep a turret locked on the Frontier, just in case this is all part of a Galadorian trap. Tell McClance to launch.” First, Victoria rolled her eyes at the captain’s continued suspicions. Then, she cocked her eyebrows at the name, but Rogers didn’t notice. “Tell him to wait in low orbit and to start his run when we engage.”
“Understood.”
“Rogers out.” The captain deactivated his com-link and returned it to his belt.
“What does it take to alleviate your suspicions?” Victoria asked.
“Metaxas, inspect their engine room. Lefcourt, start your inspection of the rest of the ship. If the crew resists, shoot them.” He locked hard eyes on Victoria while his engineer left with one of his guards. “More than you can offer.”
Victoria addressed her own security officers. “One of you catch up and go with Metaxas, the other with Lefcourt.” Then, to Rogers’ security officer as he prepared to move out, “Be advised, some parts of the ship are inaccessible due to damage and decompression. If you don’t believe me—” She matched the captain’s stern eyes. “—I will not be responsible.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Lefcourt said.
*
Ken lay in the dark, looking up at the underside of the bunk above him. Across the room, his bunkmates whistled as they slept. The mattress was surprisingly comfortable. Comfortable bed, cool shelter, cool water… Even the food was more than just edible. Still, he couldn’t sleep. Partly, he suspected it was all the traveling through time and space messing with his internal clock. But mostly, he could not stop thinking about his shipmates, left naked and forced to endure questionable water, maggot-infested bread (at least they got their protein, I suppose), and kept clean by periodic showers provided by a sprinkling system installed in the ceiling of each barracks. Then, there were the Nelfi and Thorn inmates in the female barracks cuddling tiny young, and a few other species that seemed to not have an overseer. In the female barracks, two of the blue raptor-like aliens, like the one Ken had seen in the twenty-fourth-century council, and in each, a green hairless alien two meters tall with tentacles for hands and dark ovoid eyes.
What was the point of the overseer, anyway? Their captors certainly didn’t need any help keeping the prisoners in line. And, from what he had seen so far, they weren’t going to hold back from mistreating them either. It’s possible their captors were trying to placate him and his inmates with comforts, but to what end? To create division? To be used as puppets?
He could still see the glares his people gave him as he approached their cages in their respective barracks, first the men, then the women. He told them in turn about the deal their captors had made with him.
“How do you know this Glidrah was speaking the truth?” Jenkins had asked. “And that there are even three Earth ships in this region of space?”
“He mentioned them by name—Ulysses and Bolshevik,” Ken had answered. “It’s reasonable to assume that there are indeed two other Earth ships besides our own. Whether he actually knows the coordinates of each is another matter, but the goal is to keep you all alive until the Frontier arrives.”
“Assuming they’re even tracking us,” a doubtful Neilsen had said. “How do you know they haven’t given up? Or that they even managed to find an engine trail?”
“I don’t. But it’s up to us to be here when—or if—they do arrive. We must do whatever we can to stay alive.”
“Easy for you to say,” Maxwell had said.
Maxwell’s voice echoed over and over in Ken’s mind until he drifted off to sleep. He awoke a short time later—it felt like a short time—to a clattering of dishes and murmur of alien voices. He turned toward the table to find Miichu and Trrpais there, sharing a meal. He took a deep breath in through his nose. A tangy aroma filled the air.
Ken caught Trrpais’ eyes, looking at him from across the table. “You’re awake finally. I was just deciding whether I should inform the Galadorians that you were dead. Have some meat. There is also bread and fruit if you prefer. And water and ale to wet your throat.”
Ken sat up and came to his feet. At some point the previous night, while he was with his shipmates, his captors had brought several pairs of gray trousers for him. He’d left them on his bunk, removed his shirt and vest, and unfastened his uniform trousers before falling asleep.
He now re-fastened his trousers and threw his vest over his shoulder as he stepped towards the table. He picked up a slice of the meat, took a bite, and hummed (softly) with pleasure. It was extremely tender and juicy. The spices covering it were almost Cajun-style. Then, he recovered from his moment of ecstasy and thought about his people. How likely were their captors—these Galadorians—to provide his people with the same quality of food? More likely this was part of his captors’ process of dividing him from his people and blinding him to their suffering. Ken glanced at Trrpais.
“Sit down,” the Nelfi said, sipping his ale, his tone inviting.
Ken poured himself some water and drank. He basked for a moment in the refreshing sensation of the liquid as it soothed his dry throat. Then, with the cup in his left hand, he reached under the table with his right. He glanced at Miichu, who kept his eyes low, munching on some dried fruit. The previous night, Miichu had said he didn’t like what their captors were doing to their people but felt helpless to do anything about it. Trrpais clearly didn’t care as long as he was comfortable and had his ale.
