Diaspora
by
Michael D. Britton
* * * *
Copyright 2011 by Michael D. Britton
The screaming finally stopped.
The silence that replaced it brought both relief and sorrow for Captain Joshua Gray as he sat strapped to a chair in the pitch-black room. The silence meant that Commander Cho was free of the pain – that they couldn’t hurt him anymore.
It also meant Cho was dead.
Gray listened carefully through the wall, and heard Cho’s body get dragged away. He heard the murmuring voices of their captors – their torturers – but could not make out the words. They spoke loudly enough, but since they’d forcibly removed Gray’s autotran from his ear canal, he couldn’t understand a word of their guttural alien language.
He’d lost track of the time since their ship had been literally swallowed by the q’Chek vessel and the crew taken hostage. It felt like about six days, but Gray couldn’t be sure. He couldn’t be sure of anything right now – his body ached, he’d been given no food, and he’d been kept in the dark since he’d regained consciousness. He only knew his next door neighbor had been Commander Cho because they’d had a chance to speak to each other through the wall before the interrogations had begun.
If that’s what they really were. For all Gray knew, the q’Chek just enjoyed inflicting pain. It’s not like the prisoners could understand what the q’Chek were saying after they pulled the autotrans. None of it made any sense to Gray – it all just seemed random and sadistic. And there was no end in sight – no end other than the quiet release of death that Cho had just received.
Gray had given up on trying to escape a while ago. He still had every intention of getting out of there, but he knew he’d have to wait for the right opportunity, because right now they had him locked down tighter than his first United Earth Astrionics uniform.
Back when he joined UEA, fifteen years ago, he never dreamed he’d wind up in a situation like this. Space exploration was always dangerous, but when the first advance contingent of q’Chek fighting vessels first came along six years ago, it became war.
UEA quickly transformed from a purely scientific organization to a military branch. The q’Chek were aggressive and impossible to reason with - all attempts at negotiation fell flat. So UEA became Earth’s defense agency and people like Gray made a career change from galactic explorer to soldier – all without even changing ships. Gray’s vessel, the Magellan, was retrofitted with weaponry and beefed-up shielding, but he retained command of the ship and even had the same crew. UEA convinced the global government that it would be best to keep the crews together for efficiency and strength of command structure.
And so Gray waited.
It wasn’t long after Cho had been killed that the q’Chek entered his room. He still couldn’t see anything, since these aliens seemed to function in complete darkness, but he could hear them – their shuffling footsteps, their insect-like vocal clicks and bestial grunts, their raspy breathing. He could tell there were at least two of them in the room, and heard them flank him. He heard and felt them slice through his restraints, and suddenly he was in their wiry grasp and hoisted to his feet.
The two aliens frog-marched Gray out of the room and down the corridor, still in complete darkness. His joints were stiff from so much sitting as they ushered him along. He could smell the q’Chek – a mixture of dung and spices that made him feel like heaving.
A left turn. Two right turns. They stopped briefly to open a door. Through the door and down a long downward slope. Another door. Finally, he was dropped to the floor. As he lay there completely disoriented, something was shoved roughly into his ear. His autotran. He reached up and pushed it in a little farther, rotating it for comfort.
“Kaftan Gay, reepawn,” said a strangely melodic voice in the blackness. Gray tapped the autotran twice to fine-tune it. “Captain Gray, respond.”
“That’s my name. What do you want? Where am I? Why don’t you show yourselves?” Gray’s voice was husky and dry.
“Do you require di-hydrogen oxide?”
“Yes, give me water, please,” said Gray.
“You will receive. We have much to speak. Your ship it is mystery. We will learn.”
“I’m not telling you anything about our technology,” said Gray, his voice dripping with resentment. “Why are you invading our space? What did we ever do to you?”
“Our space? Not understand ‘our space.’ All space q’Chek.”
“No, that’s where you’re wrong – all space is not q’Chek. Earth, the solar system, that belongs to us – to humans. You can’t just take whatever you want!”
“Humans talk to q’Chek. Say q’Chek must go away. q’Chek angry. We not go away.”
“Look, I’m not a politician or a negotiator or a diplomat. Heck, I’m not even a soldier, really – I’m just a scientist who got roped into all this when you people invaded. But I do know one thing. You can’t just stomp on our right to what’s ours. We were here first. That counts for something.”
“Humans not here first. q’Chek here first. We go away, and when we come back, humans here. This not right.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute. You’re saying the q’Chek used to be here, before humans? That doesn’t make any sense. We’ve been here for thousands and thousands of years!”
“q’Chek here long before that. Humans take what is not theirs. q’Chek fight for it. q’Chek will win.”
“I think you’ll find that we’re not going to give up that easy,” said Gray.
“We will take what is rightfully q’Chek. We will not be stopped. We will send humans back to where they came from.” The autotran was a learning device – the more the q’Chek spoke, the better the translation became.
“We came from Earth! Don’t you understand? It is our native planet,” said Gray, frustrated by the alien’s apparent lack of comprehension.
“Then q’Chek owns humans. But q’Chek kind – we will relocate humans.”
“Like I said, I’m not a politician. But I know that Earth is my home. It’s the home of my ancestors. And nobody owns the human race. Look, maybe some kind of arrangement can be made -”
“Enough!” the alien screeched. Then, quietly, “You will drink now.”
A cup of water was pressed to Gray’s lips, and he gratefully gulped down the fluid.
Breathless from the chugging, he said, “Thank you.” After a moment he added, “Now what are you going to do with me?”
“You show us your ship. Show us your technology. Show us your history. Show us your leaders.”
“Some of that will be a problem,” said Gray. “I can share some information with you, but I’m not authorized -”
“Enough!” the q’Chek yelled once again. “You are to represent the humans. You will explain all to q’Chek.”
“Alright,” said Gray, figuring that agreement now could play well for him later. “You know my name. What’s yours?”
“q’Chek.”
“That’s your – your species. Your people are called the q’Chek. But what is your name – as an individual?”
“I am identified by a sound that you cannot hear. If you need to address me, you may call me by any name you choose.”
“Okay. I’ll just call you, um, Spreck.”
“What is the significance of this designation?”
“Eh, just a very old piece of Earth entertainment history. Spreck was a science fiction alien. My father used to love watching old recordings of the show – it was called Star Path. No real significance other than that.”
“Gray, you will rest, and then you will take Spreck to your ship.”
> The two strong aliens grabbed Gray once again and led him to another room, where he was placed on a mat upon which he readily passed out from stress and exhaustion.
When he awoke, he had no idea how much time had passed, and he was still in pitch blackness. No matter how hard he blinked, he could not see a thing. He wondered for a moment if he was blind. Although he had no way of knowing, he just didn’t think he was. He wasn’t awake for long before he heard the door open and the now-familiar sound of q’Chek footsteps and breathing. His two handlers said nothing as they once again took him to visit Spreck.
“You have rested,” said Spreck.
“Yes. I have,” said Gray. “I need more water. And something to eat.”
“You will have water. We do not have anything you would find – edible,” said Spreck. “Perhaps once we are aboard your ship.”
“Yes, we do have provisions on my ship,” said Gray. Suddenly he was encouraged. Although he had originally resisted
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