by A. R. Ford
Time ground to a near halt. The pendulum swung in slow motion. Tick … tock. Tick … tock. Tick … tock. Perspiration beaded my brow; trembling hands came to rest on my lap. Desmond’s soulless eyes pinned me down. His demeanor managed a complete one hundred eighty since my announcement. Where had the kind, enigmatic man from the past few weeks gone? I fought the irrational fear rising within me. My parents would want me to do this. Good employees worked hard. A good employee reported problems to their superiors.
I shared everything I knew with Desmond only to find his eyes hardened even more. “That is all I know, Mr. Lorrie. I thought you should know since company procedure dictates we notify you when these events occur.”
“You will do well to forget what you know, Ms. Thomson. Now, if you will excuse me, I have important matters to attend to.”
No one could say no to Desmond when he dismissed them in that manner. I left the office convinced I did the right thing. But if that was the case, why did I feel like the floor had opened up in preparation to swallow me whole?
I learned the answer to that question not long after our meeting.
Police arrived in my office with a warrant for my arrest. None of my stammered denials broke through their purposeful reading of my rights, or the cold, steel cuffs snapped on my wrists. Eve’s look of horror and tearful face were the only signs of support from the Lorrie staff. The others simply gaped, whispered behind their hands, or glared with utter contempt reflected on their faces. Even the security guard, who welcomed me on my first day, glared when the police escorted me from the building.
People say your life flashes before you right before you die. My life flashed before me when the door of the cell slammed shut behind me. Worst of all, I knew no one who had enough power to change the way this would play out in a court of law.
I would pay for another person’s crimes. The person I suspected was none other than Desmond Lorrie.
Chapter 3: Gracie
Sitting in a jail cell at the age of twenty-three was not how I expected my life would turn out. My parents brought me up to be a good person. Yet, here I was, through no fault of my own. I know. Everyone in prison is innocent. The problem was that I truly was innocent of the crime the legal system levied against me.
Today the cell was as cold and unforgiving as Chancellor Fletcher when he sat on the podium listening to the case against me. Desmond Lorrie, my employer, accused me of embezzlement. He provided more than adequate documents to seal the case against me. Documents I knew were a forgery. The wheels of justice ground to a halt instead of moving forward as they should. My body slid down the stainless-steel wall onto the unforgiving concrete floor. The smell of perspiration mixed with body odor and stale air nearly overwhelmed me.
Since being accused of embezzlement by my employer, I kept my emotions at bay. Now, those emotions broke free. Tears poured down my face. My body shook with the force of the sobs. My stomach twisted and rolled until I retched helplessly into the drain in the center of the floor.
A conviction was nearly guaranteed. My court-appointed attorney reported insurmountable evidence against me on his first visit. “I am sorry, Gracie, but the evidence is irrefutable. Do you have any enemies within the company who would want to hurt you?” He held my hand, a thumb caressing my knuckles gently.
“No one. Everyone likes me. Except ...” A horrifying memory of the day I reported the irregularities in the accounts to Desmond Lorrie came unbidden. The day he told me to forget what I knew about the problem.
Not more than two weeks passed between that incident, and the day the police came to arrest me. A search warrant gave them access to my office, records, and computer. Everything pointed to me as the person embezzling money.
My eyes widened in horror. “He wouldn’t. Would he?” I whispered after sharing the incident with my attorney.
“People have been known to take vindictiveness to astonishing heights,” the attorney murmured. “I am sorry this man has used his power and position to hurt you. I will do what I can. It does not look good. I wanted to be honest with you.”
“Thank you,” I whispered.
How sad. My attorney was the only person to treat me with respect, and kindness. He smiled each time he visited with me afterwards, gently holding my icy hands in his. Not once had he lied about anything. I could respect him for that.
A pounding at the door told me the Chancellor’s deliberation had ended. He would now render a verdict, and sentence me. I would be jettisoned to some far-off planet with enough food and water to sustain me for a week, or two at most. Just like earth’s laws dictated in our modern age. It would be up to me to survive on the planet, find civilization, and make a life of my own there. If at any time I decided the conditions were not to my liking, I could elect self-termination at a reassignment center. Each planet had one center in each major metropolis as intergalactic law decreed. Either way, I knew I would die for a crime I had not committed.
The guards shackled my wrists and ankles. Each burly man held an arm in his grip as they led me to the courtroom.
My attorney smiled hesitantly, his hand coming to rest at my back when the guards forced me to stand beside him. “It is almost over now, Gracie. We can only hope for the best.” The whispered words did little to comfort me.
“All rise!” the bailiff boomed.
Everyone in the courtroom stood. Chancellor Fletcher took a seat, motioning for everyone to remain standing. He peered over the top of wire-rimmed glasses at me before speaking. “Gracie Thomson, you have been charged with the crime of embezzlement in the amount of three hundred thousand credits. After weighing the evidence, and hearing the arguments of your attorney and the prosecution, I have come to a decision.”
Breath froze in my throat. My vision blurred with tears. This was it. My fate lay in the chancellor’s hands.
“You are hereby convicted of the crime of embezzlement. You will be jettisoned immediately after these proceedings end. May the gods have mercy on your soul.” A pounding of his gavel brought the proceedings to an end.
The guards yanked me unceremoniously toward the door leading to the jettison bay. They ignored my attorney’s plea for a moment to speak with me. No leniency would be granted on this day.
The guards shoved me into a shuttle not much taller than them. One guard fastened a series of straps designed to hold me into place. The other guard removed the shackles from my wrists and ankles. Before I could think to speak, to beg for a moment to catch my breath, an injection brought an overwhelming wave of drowsiness. The door to the shuttle slammed shut. The faint sounds of the launch sequence filtered through the waves of unconsciousness drawing me under.
“Launch sequence activated. Target location, Lonus N88. Ten, nine, eight …”
The countdown continued as my horrified brain processed the fact that I would land on a planet known for its culture of violence and brutality. My eyes closed as the sequence ended. Darkness consumed me as the first thruster engaged, jostling me roughly in the capsule. Gods help me.
I was bound for hell.
*****
A hard jolt, followed by a deafening crash, woke me. Light streamed through the porthole. A hand shielded my eyes from the glare. My mouth was dry, stomach growling. I had no way of knowing how long I had been unconscious, and without food or water.
My hand fumbled for the hatch release until my hand closed around what I thought felt like the correct handle. A hard pull brought a metallic click as something engaged. A hiss of the hydraulic mechanism, followed by the hatch lifting, signaled success.
After releasing the straps that held my body in place, I staggered onto alien soil. My eyes widened as I took in my surroundings.
The area where the craft landed mirrored a jungle one would see on planet earth. Exotic flora and fauna surrounded me. Strange chirps and calls filled the air. An exquisitely beautiful waterfall, with water the same color as ripe strawberries, poured into a tranquil pool not far from where I stood. Humidit
y made the thin gray prison uniform cling to my skin.
Hunger and thirst were priority needs. I wolfed down two meal replacement bars before guzzling nearly half a liter of water. Now to assess the area for a suitable location for shelter. I stood and scanned the area.
The sound of thundering footsteps coming closer pulled me from my reverie. A half dozen gigantic warriors, with pale steel blue skin marked with navy striations resembling tattoos, broke through the foliage before I could flee. They were human in appearance save for the coloration of their skin, the markings, and their massive size. I had no time to dwell on identifying other differences. Escape became my priority.
I ran in the opposite direction. A scream of terror burst free when giant hands caught my arms. I fought—kicking, clawing, even biting until one of the warriors encircled my upper body with one arm. The warriors were faster than any creature I knew.
“Stop fighting, human! We do not wish to harm you,” the warrior muttered in the intergalactic common language every person was required to know.
“Warlord Bolden will certainly terminate us if we injure her,” another warrior chortled.
The remaining warriors chuckled while conversing softly in their native tongue. Their furtive glances in my direction increased the unsettled sensation lingering in my gut. Why did this warlord want me? I presented no threat. I even doubted my ability to survive in the Lonusian wilderness.
“Warlord Bolden? Where are you taking me? I have a right to know!” My captors ignored my demands. Could they terminate me without reason? Fear continued to gnaw at my gut until nausea threatened.
Their whispered conversation continued in the language I did not understand. The warrior who carried me did so with the casual ease of a man with immense strength. Our journey ended after what I estimated was an hour. The jungle path merged onto a paved road.
In the distance, a city was visible. A gasp came when I saw structures not discussed in the intergalactic history class every earthling was required to take. An ornate building constructed from pearl-colored stone, was covered with a massive geodome. The building itself was impressively designed, with several towers and tall spires. An area several city blocks in size around it were covered by the geodome. Dozens of high-rise buildings rose high in the sky. Light reflected from the mirrored exteriors. Neatly paved roads stretched into the distance. It reminded me of photographs of New York City before the final industrial revolution clogged the city with pollution, and toxic waste.
The warriors entered a transport resembling military buses on earth. Corrugated metal formed the floor. Padded benches along either side served as the only seats. An arched doorway at the front of the craft led into a cockpit. Bright, multicolored buttons and switches decorated a control panel. A clear windshield provided a view of what lay in front of the craft. One of the warriors assumed a seat in the cockpit. He manipulated a series of switches and buttons. The muffled hum of the craft’s engines filled the craft.
The transport rose off the ground when the engine’s humming increased in volume. I swayed unsteadily, trapped between two warriors who dwarfed me. A wide array of green color flashed by as the craft flew a hundred feet or so above the jungle canopy. How strange, I silently mused. It looks like earth.
A short ride later brought us to a complex of buildings on the outskirts of a city. The universal sign for hospital, a red cross in a circle, designated the complex as a medical center of sorts. The streets bustled with more people like the warriors. Their clothing reminded me of casual clothing humans on earth wore. Ornate flower beds and fountains speckled the area.
“Where are you taking me?” The question came when the warrior carried me into the nearest building.
“The warlord insists on a thorough medical examination before you are brought to meet him. Communicable diseases, you understand?” my captor replied.
I understood. Every galaxy obeyed the intergalactic mandate regarding education of the impact of communicable diseases on people with no resistance to them.
The alien warrior holding me hostage walked through the hallways with a purpose. I struggled briefly. Doing so earned me the tightening of the arm around my legs. “You will not escape. I have no desire to use a stun-stick to subdue you.”
Fear forced me to remain motionless. I had no desire to learn what a stun-stick was, or what it would do.
My captor carried me along as casually as one would carry a gym bag. He pushed his way through double doors into a hallway that smelled of antiseptic, and chemicals. I held my head up at an odd angle, desperate to catch a glimpse of where he was taking me.
An alien wearing a face mask and blue scrubs beckoned from a doorway. He spoke in the same language the warriors used. The warrior replied as he carried me into the room. The door closed with a click. Before I could resist, or hope to escape, the warrior laid me on a gurney. He held my arms, fingers digging cruelly into my flesh. The alien who waited at the door proceeded to fasten straps across my legs and body. Wrist and ankle restraints dug into my skin.
“Wait! Don’t leave me here,” I begged as the warrior walked off, then left the room.
A scream burst free as a crew of aliens wearing face masks, gloves, and medical garb, surrounded me. They spoke in the language I could not understand. A tray of wicked looking instruments appeared not far from the gurney.
One alien selected a hypodermic syringe filled with liquid. He held it aloft. The pressure of a thumb ejected a yellowish liquid from the tip of the needle. “Relax, human female. We begin now,” he murmured in intergalactic common.
The burning sting of the fluid in my upper arm brought a cry of terror. My mouth suddenly felt dry. An overwhelming drowsiness made it impossible to hold my eyes open.
No! Not again!
Awareness faded as the injection took effect.
Chapter 4: Zayn
“Sir, we have retrieved the human female. She is with Dr. Ohnasi at the medical center as you requested.” The warrior bowed after giving the report.
“Excellent.”
“Dr. Ohnasi requested your presence.”
A nod told the warrior I understood. A wave of one hand dismissed him. He bowed again before leaving my study. I sat back, fingers steepled, dwelling on the critical importance of this human. She was the third to undergo the procedure in the hopes Lonusian DNA would mesh with hers. The first human females died less than forty-eight hours after the procedure. I murmur a silent prayer to the Lonusian goddess of healing in hopes this human will survive. My uncontested rule as king of Lonus N88 depended on it.
A handful of warriors accompanied me on the hovercraft ride to the medical center. They split into two groups; one flanking me on each side as I walk into the center. The warriors accompanied me any time I stepped outside the security of the palace. My feet take the all too familiar path to the experimental genetics suite. My guards wait in the hallway when I enter the viewing room. A swipe of the keycard unlocks the door. I move immediately to the two-way mirror.
A group of assistants hovered around the gurney. One left the room with several vials of blood, no doubt, on the way to the advanced laboratory for analysis.
She was much smaller than I expected. Her constitution would need to be stronger than the other females.
With both hands pressed against the two-way mirror, I observed the human female lying on the gurney in the exam room. The examination and specimen collection taking place in the room made my skin crawl. The potential of having a fertile mate who could tolerate genetic transformation held ultimate importance. It overshadowed my concerns over the aggressive procedures taking place in the room.
A sliding door between the examination and observation rooms hissed open. Dr. Ohnasi appeared at my side. “She is tolerating the procedures. Vitals are stable. We are obtaining samples to combine with the stem cells from our species. Once we determine if she is a compatible candidate, the procedure can be conducted.”
“Is it necessary that she go through the
procedure? The last candidates died not long afterwards. I am unwilling to take that chance with her. I am running out of time, Dr. Ohnasi.” My voice assumed the low, steely growl that made all but the most foolish ignore my demands. There was only one way I could become the uncontested monarch of this world--siring an heir as the constitution demanded.
“Understood, sir.” The doctor bowed before re-entering the room.
The female began to fight and cry out not long after the procedures continued. My gut twisted almost painfully with anguish the longer I stood watching. Unable to bear hearing her cries, I stormed into the examination room.
“Give her something for pain, to sedate her, anything! Can you not see that she is suffering?” I roared, my fist slamming against a piece of machinery pulled beside the gurney. Pieces of metal and plastic exploded into the air.
The female freed one of her hands in the struggle. She caught my wrist, green eyes catching and holding mine. In intergalactic common, she screamed, “Help me, please! They’re hurting me.”
The previous female captives roused no such desire. I considered their suffering a necessary part of the genetic manipulation. This female tugged at my heart. Perhaps the angelic cloud of blonde hair, or the green eyes rimmed in long, dark lashes unlocked the compassionate part of my heart. I fought back the urge to comfort her even as she begged me to save her. The stark terror in her voice broke through the barriers erected around my heart.
The medication Dr. Ohnasi administered took effect. Her eyes fluttered closed, yet the iron grip of her fingers on my wrist refused to loosen. I remained in the room with her until the final tests were completed.
“Preliminary testing reveals she can tolerate the procedure. We will proceed in the morning at sunrise,” the doctor announced. His staff sprang into action arranging medical equipment and devices on trays.
Only then did I retire to my quarters.