Free Bird Rising

by Ian J. Malone

  Taylor lacked a comeback for that.

  “You should know that your brother and I were acquainted,” Tulips said.

  “Is that a fact?” Taylor frowned. “Somehow I don’t see you two bein’ pals.”

  “We met only once in passing. Sadly, he did not know at the time who I was, nor did he know of my connection to the lord prefect.”

  “Ya don’t say?” Taylor quipped. “And where exactly did this chance encounter happen?”

  The Zuul’s lips pealed back into a wicked smile. “Karma Station.”

  Patience! Billy repeated.

  Taylor loosened his fists and unclenched his jaw, then squared himself to face his captor. “You oughta know something, too, Drewga.”

  Tulips waited.

  “Before this is all over, I aim to kill you. It ain’t gonna be today, and it probably won’t be tomorrow. But someday I’m gonna best you, and when I do, your blood is gonna flow down through my fingers like the juices of a Georgia peach.”

  The drewga snarled and snatched out his blade.

  “Easy,” Taylor warned. “The lord prefect wants another chat, remember? That means you and me don’t get to dance today. But soon. Real soon.”

  The Zuul huffed with indignance but clearly understood. He returned his blade to its sheath.

  “Good doggie,” Taylor said. Now, take me to my new suite.”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 21: Conversations in the Dark

  Taylor staggered back to keep from tripping on his chains when his Zuul escort shoved him down the stairwell into Cell Block Two. Once inside, Taylor quickly observed Sadeed’s meaning about the lack of accommodations. The place was a pit, literally and figuratively. Boasting jagged rock walls and an uneven floor riddled with holes, the space was dark as pitch-black night, with stale, wet air and zero visibility save for that allowed by torches in the corners.

  We must be deeper underground this time. Taylor ducked to avoid a stalactite when entering his cell only to step in a puddle. Awesome.

  The Zuul escort barked a stay back command then slammed the door to the cage.

  “What are the odds I can get some room service down here?” Taylor asked from the bars. “I’ll take a cheeseburger all the way with fries and a beer. Feel free to toss in a little bacon, too, if you’ve got it.”

  The Zuul said nothing as it bounded up the stairs out of earshot.

  Mangy mutt. Taylor kicked the gunk from his toes and gave his eyes a chance to adjust in the dark. He still couldn’t see much. “Hello?”

  Dripping water kissed the cavern’s floor somewhere in the distance.

  “Is there anybody else in here?”

  The crackling of the torches was all that answered.

  Fantastic. Taylor felt his way to the cell’s rear and collapsed with his back to the wall. “Well, T. You’ve really gone and stepped in it this time, ain’t cha?”

  A low groan rolled through the darkness.

  Taylor snapped alert. “Hello?”

  “Would it be too much to ask that you keep your voice down?” The voice featured the deepest baritone Taylor had ever heard. “Between the filth of this chamber, the discomfort of these restraints, and the stench of your natural odor, I believe my senses have endured enough abuse for one day, to say nothing of my sanity.”

  Taylor debated whether to tell the voice’s owner that he’d actually bathed earlier. He opted instead for, “Sorry to offend.”

  “I neither need nor want your apology,” the voice said. “My only wish is to be left alone.”

  Taylor peered into the black, hoping for a glimpse of his cellmate. “You got a name?”

  “None that I wish to provide.”

  “Mine’s Taylor. Taylor Van Zant.”

  “How lovely for you.”

  Taylor frowned and blew a hair strand from his face. “Fine, have it your way. If you’re not gonna tell me your name, can you at least tell me where we are?”

  “In a holding area.”

  “Gee, ya think?”

  The unseen stranger heaved a mammoth sigh. “We are in Holding Area Two, if you must know, located eighty yards north of the lord prefect’s main residence, between the entrance to Cell Block One and the north gate. Now, my chatty friend, is that enough to quell your overdeveloped sense of curiosity so that you can leave me be?”

  Taylor shrugged. “I reckon that depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On the degree to which I get bored,” Taylor said. “Too much silence makes me anxious. After a while, I’m inclined to break into show tunes to pass the time. For the record, I do a mean Andrew Lloyd Webber.”

  “Oh, dear gods.”

  “Hey, Hoss, you asked.” Taylor hunched forward and hugged his knees, briefly wondering if their conversation was being monitored. Not that it mattered. “How long you been stuck down here?”

  “Far longer than I care to recall.”

  “Is that so?” Taylor cocked his head. “Who’d you piss off to land down here, anyway? The Zuul or the lord prefect?”

  “Both, it would seem,” the voice said. “The latter gave the order which resulted in my abduction and subsequent relocation to this quaint little sand pit of a world. The former was tasked with carrying that order to fruition.”

  Taylor arched an eyebrow. “So you’re not a Rukori then?”

  “I’m awestruck by your skills of deduction, Mr. Van Zant. Tell me. How long have you worked in investigations?”

  Taylor flipped him the bird through the dark. “Most folks I know don’t go through the trouble of kidnappin’ somebody unless they’ve got reasons for doin’ so.”

  “Indeed.”

  “I don’t suppose you’d care to expound on what those reasons are?”

  “Indeed, I would not.”

  Taylor heaved a sigh. “Are you always this combative with your cellmates, or am I just special?”

  “I couldn’t say.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re the only cellmate I’ve ever had.”

  Taylor wrinkled his nose. Seriously?

  The conversation halted when new footfalls bounded down the steps toward them. They belonged to the Zuul who’d brought him not ten minutes earlier.

  “Back so soon?” Taylor asked. “I didn’t think Sadeed wanted to meet again until tomorrow.”

  “That is still the order,” the Zuul said.

  “What brings you down then?” Taylor asked. “You come to stare at all the zoo animals?”

  The Zuul grinned and put its hand to the cell’s access panel. “Drewga Tulipza felt that you would benefit from a refresher on our treatment of unruly guests.”

  “I’m unruly now, huh? Way to go, me.”

  The alien produced a baton and sparked open the tip. “Move.”

  Taylor sighed and stepped out into the corridor, casing a cursory glance to the other cell. “Looks like we’ll have to pick this up later.”

  “If I curry any remaining favor with the gods,” the voice huffed, “I’ll be spared that experience by way of the fact that you’ll be unconscious or dead when you return.”

  “Nice to know you care,” Taylor muttered.

  “Don’t take it personally, Van Zant. I just don’t like people very much.”

  “Ya know, I never would’ve pegged that about you.” Taylor paused when something metallic stirred in the other cell. It was rough and muted, like chains being dragged over concrete, and accompanied by the thick, heavy footfalls one might expect from a giant.

  What are you?

  Slowly, a massive figure eased into view by the torchlight.

  Taylor blinked, opened his mouth, closed it, and blinked again. Well, that explains a lot.

  As was indicative of its species, the alien across the hall resembled in many ways a small elephant that walked erect on its hind legs. Same wrinkled features. Same pitch-black eyes. Same mountainous gray frame, but with two trunks instead of one.

  “You’re a Sumatozou,” Tay
lor said. “A gate master.”

  The big alien nodded in reply. “And you’re a Human. Aren’t we the perceptive pair?”

  * * * * *

  Chapter 22: Officially Non-Official

  As it turned out, Taylor’s quality time alone with the Zuul interrogators wasn’t over now that he’d met with Sadeed. Once he was done with the guard that had taken him from Cell Block Two, he was dragged back to his hole and allowed to sleep things off until the next morning, when he was taken for a second meeting with the lord prefect.

  True to his word, Taylor said nothing. And true to his word, Sadeed reacted in kind.

  “Very well, then,” the lord prefect said. “If you won’t listen to reason, and the drewga’s tactics aren’t working, then perhaps it’s time we try a different approach.”

  Ding, ding.

  Sadly, the beating that came next was only the warmup for the main event. Once the Zuul were done working Taylor over with their batons, he was dragged out into the compound and deposited in the open sand where he was pitted against an opponent. The first go-round saw him facing a massive Rukori the size of Valawn’s sergeant, Douron. The alien was mean, too, swinging and hammering Taylor’s body with the might of a sledgehammer. Of course, Taylor was never just fighting an opponent. Not on even ground, anyway. Most of his adversaries brought weapons, whereas he had only his fists. Others came with comrades, often making the contest two or even three on one. In one instance, Taylor squared off against three Zuul and a Rukori, all of whom were armed.

  Taylor had been lucky to survive that one.

  Hang in there, little buddies, he thought to his nanites. Please, just a little while longer.

  The microbots in his bloodstream gave no answer. They just kept working, repairing his bones and tissues as best they could from the damage wrought by the aliens.

  Taylor awoke on fight day five to the slimy sensation of something wet and slick on the side of his face. Ugh, gross. He rolled out of the scum puddle, gagging.

  “Fascinating,” the Sumatozou said from across the hall. “I was almost certain they’d killed you this time.”

  “You sound disappointed,” Taylor grumbled.

  “Not at all,” the gate master said. “To the contrary, I couldn’t care less whether you live or die. I am the picture of indifference.”

  Taylor wasn’t sure how to take that. He pushed himself upright, brushed his hair from his face, and spit something hard and goop-like onto the floor. I don’t even wanna know what that is.

  “I must admit, Human,” the Sumatozou said. “Through all my time in captivity, I’ve never once seen another prisoner take the sort of punishment you’ve endured. You are to be commended for your resilience.”

  Taylor’s bruised expression turned sideways. “I thought I was your only cellmate.”

  “For this location, you are. That doesn’t mean I haven’t encountered other inmates in prisons prior to this one. As you know, the Zuul are nothing if not fond of their interrogations, be they fruitful or not.”

  Taylor’s aching ribs echoed the truth of that statement.

  “You mentioned at the outset of our meeting that your name is Van Zant,” the Sumatozou said. “I’ve been wondering. Are you related to Terry Van Zant?”

  Taylor rolled his eyes. “Is it just me or did everyone and their grandma know my brother?”

  “Only by reputation,” the big alien said. “I served the Cartography Guild for eight years as master of the Piquaw Stargate here in the Tolo Arm. During that time, I dealt with numerous merc companies from Earth. Asbaran Solutions, the Iron Conquistadors, the Emerald Stormriders. I even crossed paths with Swamp Eagle Security once, if only by comm exchange.”

  “Well ain’t you the social butterfly?”

  “I beg your pardon?” The Sumatozou sounded put off by the comparison.

  “Relax, Hoss. It’s just a figure of speech. While we’re on the topic of names, I didn’t catch yours.”

  The gate master wrinkled his nose. “I already told you that.”

  “You do recall that I’ve had the holy hell kicked out of me for the better part of two fargin weeks now, right? You’ll have to excuse the lapse in memory.”

  The Sumatozou grunted. “Humans. Why the Mercenary Guild ever saw fit to allow a backward species like yours into its ranks, I’ll never know.”

  “Rumor has it they thought we were scrappy. Now are you gonna fess up with that name or am I gonna be stuck callin’ you Gray Ass for the rest of our stay together?”

  The alien folded his arms. “My name is Japhara Hylune. I am…or at least I was, a grand latura with the Galactic Union’s Cartography Guild.”

  Grand Latura? Taylor didn’t recognize the term. “I thought you said you were a gate master.”

  “I was,” Japhara said, “for nearly thirty years, in fact. It was the same for my father before me and his before him. Such has been the noble calling of the Hylune line for more than a dozen generations.”

  Taylor couldn’t help but notice how the Sumatozou radiated pride when speaking of his profession. It was like sharing a cell with a cult follower. What I wouldn’t give for a nice Jehovah’s Witness right about now. Taylor kept that to himself as the alien continued.

  “Halfway through my thirtieth year of master service, I was reassigned to the Guild’s atlas division as a cartography fellow. There I studied for three years at the feet of our curators before graduating to the rank of latura, then grand latura before my abduction.”

  “Sounds like bein’ a latura is a pretty big deal.”

  “Even you, Human, can’t fathom the depths of that understatement.” Japhara turned up his chin. “Of the thousands of Sumatozou who serve the Cartography Guild across the galaxy, less than one percent will even be considered for latura status. It’s the highest possible honor a member of my species could ever hope to attain.”

  Taylor yawned. “I’m still waitin’ to hear why that is exactly.”

  “Latura is the Sumatozou word for envoy,” Japhara said. “It is we who represent the Guild’s interests throughout the Union, as it pertains to the usage of our transit atlas.”

  “Ah, right. The atlas.”

  “Yes, the atlas. It’s the repository of worlds within every ship’s nav system that is ubiquitous throughout—”

  “I know what the damn thing is, Japhara.”

  If the alien rankled at being cut off, he didn’t protest. “Whenever changes are made to the atlas, be they minor adjustments for natural phenomena or major alterations for things like wars, the Guild relays these changes in the form of update patches throughout the stargate network. Ships then dock with their respective stargates, download the patch, and go on about their business. Whenever something goes awry with the process, a latura is dispatched to the gate in question to troubleshoot the issue.”

  “Congratulations,” Taylor said. “You’re an interstellar IT guy.”

  “That’s a gross oversimplification, but yes.”

  Taylor shook his head. “I don’t get it. Why would the Cartography Guild need to commission a special group of Sumatozou for that? Why not just use the in-system gate masters? They’re already present on-site and could solve the problem when it arises.”

  “If a hyperspatial generator is the engine by which interstellar travel is possible,” Japhara said, “then our transit atlas is its guide. Maintaining the integrity of that guide, therefore, is of the utmost priority to my superiors. By keeping the circle of those who understand the atlas’ inner workings small, the Guild Heads minimize the chances of its contents being manipulated, or worse, corrupted with false data. That ensures hyperspace travel remains safe for everyone.”

  Taylor snapped his fingers. “So the Cartography Guild is all about safety, then. That’s good to know. Silly me, I was under the impression, based on the fees you a-holes charge us for stargate usage, that you were in it for the credits.”

  Japhara bristled at his cellmate’s sarcasm. “You do realize what a massiv
e undertaking it is to operate an apparatus as expansive as the stargate network, yes? There’s hardware to maintain, routes to track, and an endless litany of charts to curate. Such endeavors require time and resources, neither of which come free.”

  Taylor shrugged. “Whatever, man. I can’t speak to rest of it, but from where I sit, I think we can both agree that your curators suck at their jobs.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Look around, genius. We’re stranded on a world that’s nowhere to be found in your stupid atlas. I’d wager it ain’t the only one, either. That means your beloved Guild Heads either don’t know these worlds exist, in which case they’re incompetent, or they do know and want to keep the rest of us in the dark about them. Regardless, it’s safe to say your employers stand to take one helluva credibility hit if word of Rukoria’s existence gets out around the Union.”

  The Sumatozou turned his back to his cage bars.

  “So which is it?” Taylor asked.

  The alien didn’t answer.

  “Come on, Japhara. The cat’s out of the bag. We both know it. Right here and right now, drop the charade and tell me the truth. Hell, it ain’t like either one of us is gonna leave here alive to tattle on the other.” Taylor didn’t believe that, but it served his purposes to say otherwise.

  Japhara paced in his cell for several moments, muttering. After about the fifth circuit, he paused, faced his counterpart, and heaved a sigh that could’ve blown down a mountain. “The worlds you speak of are known among the latura as Non-Official Planets, or NOP worlds. They are housed in a secure directory within the atlas’s core architecture, accessible only by grand latura and the Guild Heads themselves. Not even the gate masters know of their existence.”

  I knew it! Taylor whirled in disgust. “Why would the Cartography Guild keep that kind of knowledge from the public? What does it serve? Moreover, what right do they have to do so?”

  “It is not our place to question the Guild’s wisdom,” Japhara said. “Ours is only to trust and follow.”