by J G Cressey
“Who, Cal? Who’s almost on us?” Toker asked, clutching his broken arm.
Cal looked down at him but said nothing. There was no need; they already knew the answer. He dropped off the console, strode purposefully to the rear of the cockpit, and began running his fingers along the back wall like a blind man searching for a door.
“It’s circling us, I think,” Viktor said.
Cal briefly turned to see that the boy had scuttled over to Melinda, his eyes fearfully locked on the main window. Sure enough, the huge craft had begun to maneuver around the Star Splinter and, like a boulder rolling across a cave mouth, it was slowly blocking out the light of the distant sun. Swearing under his breath, Cal turned back to the rear wall. “Melinda, I need your help.”
Without a second’s hesitation, the synthetic was by his side.
“Do you think you can get this open?” he asked her, indicating the edge of a large panel that was neatly inset within the wall. Melinda remained silent as she wedged her fingertips under the panel’s bottom seam. After a moment of strain, the cybernetic woman succeeded in forcing the panel open. The sound was not a pleasant one.
The inky black shadow had almost leaked its way over the last section of the cockpit floor as Cal ducked down and snatched a bag from the exposed compartment. He was hurried but efficient as he pulled night vision glasses from the bag and passed them around to the rest of the gang. As they put them on, the last sliver of sunlight was swallowed by the predatory mass looming over their paralyzed ship.
With the benefit of night vision, Cal delved back into the compartment then remerged with a five-click pulse rifle gripped in each hand. He looked at the wide eyes staring at him through the night vision glasses. They seemed to be seeking reassurance that was not in his power to offer. The anger he felt at himself gnawed a little deeper. “Obviously, we’re in deep shit here. I’m sorry for getting you all into this.”
“Wasn’t your fault,” Eddy said without hesitation.
Jumper nodded in agreement. “We each had a vote, Cal.”
“Unanimous as far as I remember it, bro,” Toker said from his seated position. “We’re all—”
Whatever Toker was going to say was interrupted by a loud, metallic clang, the echoes of which reverberated through the ship’s smooth walls. There was a moment of silence, then the ship lurched, sending the lot of them—bar the ever-steady Melinda and the seated Toker—stumbling. Another moment, and the ship was once again still and eerily quiet.
Viktor broke the silence with a whisper. “That sounded like a magnetic grasper.”
Cal took a moment more to listen before he replied. “They mean to board us.”
“So hand out the big guns, Cal.” Eddy didn’t bother to keep her voice low. “Reckon it’ll be them that’ll be in deep shit, they try hoppin’ on our ship.”
Cal would have been heartened at the girl’s infallible bravery were it not for the fear he could see in her eyes.
“At least they didn’t blow us to smithereens like they did Earth,” Toker pointed out. “Could be a good sign.”
Cal nodded. “I think it’s time for one more vote. Toker’s right; they haven’t destroyed the ship, which is no doubt within their capabilities. That could mean we’re to be kept alive.”
“Kept alive for what?” Viktor asked, his voice still not much more than a whisper.
Eddy sniffed loudly. “Could be we’re kept alive, or it could be that we’re blasted with our hands up and our pants down.”
“Or experimented on,” Toker suggested.
Eddy sniffed again. “I vote we give ‘um all we got with these pulse rifles.”
Jumper smiled at her, fatherly and infused with pride. Picking up his Long Eye rifle, he calmly checked that it was loaded and turned to Cal. “You know my vote, my friend; I’ve never been one for prisons.”
“Well if we’re gonna fight, you better get me up off the bloody floor,” Toker blurted, reaching up with his good arm.
Eddy walked over to him, slapped a hand into his outstretched palm, and hoisted him to his feet with surprising strength. “Always knew you weren’t a complete wuss, blondie.”
He winced as his broken arm fell to his side, then he managed a small shrug. “Don’t fancy getting probed.”
Another haunting clang echoed through the darkness, and the ship lurched again.
Viktor took a deep, wobbly breath and did his best to stand straight. The panic on his young face tore painfully at Cal’s heart. Damn it. He could barely look at the boy. What a fool he’d been leading them here. This is why he’d left the military: that damned responsibility for the fate of others. He couldn’t bloody take it. His resignation seemed so long ago now. He’d punched out Captain Decker’s tooth that day because of his foolish orders. But was he really any better? He was too reckless. He’d always been too reckless.
He forced himself to look Viktor in the eye. It was the least he owed him.
“Melinda and me will fight, Cal,” the boy said, managing to raise his voice above a whisper. “Isn’t that right—” his words died in his throat as he looked up at Melinda.
Cal looked at her too. The cybernetic woman seemed even more still and silent than usual. Instead of giving Viktor her usual loving smile, she simply stared dead ahead without so much as a twitch of a cybernetic finger.
“Something wrong with her?” Toker asked.
“Yes,” the boy cried. “Something’s seriously wrong with her.”
Before Viktor had a chance to elaborate, there was a deafening bang. Cal and Jumper instinctively thrust their weapons towards the source of the sound. It had originated directly above their heads, but there was nothing to be seen.
Eddy moved to Cal’s side. “You mind, Cal?” she asked, finally lowering her voice.
Without taking his eyes from the ceiling, Cal handed the girl the second pulse rifle. “Remember Jumper’s top tip,” he whispered.
“Don’t worry. I’ll make ‘um count.”
Melinda remained completely unresponsive as Viktor desperately worked his nimble fingers in a section he’d opened up at the base of her spine. The boy didn’t get a chance to do much, however, before there was another defining bang, this time followed by a loud hiss emanating from the very same spot above their heads. Cal could see something now: a metallic probe with an arrow-shaped head that had pierced the ceiling and snaked its way into the cockpit. Before he had a chance to decide whether or not to fire his pulse rifle, a fine, red mist burst from the end of the probe and rapidly started filling the cockpit.
“Should I blast it, Cal?” Eddy bellowed over the sound of the hissing probe.
Cal didn’t reply—to do so would allow the red mist to enter his mouth.
As his friends dropped to the hard, metal floor around him, Cal had about ten seconds to come up with an idea, a plan to execute before the red mist penetrated his shirt, which he now held over his mouth.
Unfortunately, ten seconds simply wasn’t enough.
Chapter Twenty-Five
THE EARNING OF TRUST
All things considered, Laurence felt pretty damn good. It seemed impossible that only a week before he’d had little more strength than a premature newborn. But a lot had changed in that week. Reaching up to the dusky orange sky, he flexed and stretched his muscles. Having always been concealed under thick folds of soft flesh, the muscles seemed strangely new. He held the stretch for a time then brought his arms down and stared at his biceps. They were far from large, but he could see them, and they worked—a near miracle considering the hell his body had been through.
Over the past week, he’d been consuming the raw meat offerings with ravenous vigor. He had no idea what animal the flesh originated from, but it was rich and restored his strength fast. He found himself filled with gratitude. Not towards the Carcarrions who kept throwing the meat at his feet, but towards the animal whose life had ended to ensure that his could continue.
Taking a seat on a rock, Laurence took some ti
me to look about him. Thanks to the meat offerings, most of his fellow survivors had also rediscovered some of their past strength and were now ambling about the dark landscape, re-educating their emaciated bodies and conversing with their fellow captives. Despite this new turn of events, Laurence could still recognize desperation within each of their faces. They questioned reasons behind their continued survival. Were they simply being set up straight in order to be knocked down again? Was this all a game? Laurence could see that leadership was needed, and he was finding it within himself to offer just that. A few weeks previously, a chord had been struck deep within him, and now, that chord resonated louder than ever. As his mind and body grew stronger, so did his will.
But Laurence knew that hope would never be brought about with specifics—there were none—but instead with a show of strength and defiance. As soon as he had been able, he’d begun to introduce himself and converse with as many of the men and women around him as possible. At first, it had taken him a great deal of time and physical effort. They were, after all, scattered far and wide across the jagged landscape. But then, remaining consistent in their mysterious ways, the Carcarrions had set about herding them together like sheep into a pen, the pen in this case being a large, rocky expanse of noticeably flatter terrain. There were still rocks—some large enough for even a big man to conceal himself—but in general, the contour of the land was relatively level with little in the way of ridges. Being in closer proximity to his fellow captives, Laurence had been better able to converse and estimate their numbers. Over the months, they had been reduced from hundreds of thousands to maybe ten thousand at most. Still, ten thousand was a good deal of men and women, and they were getting stronger by the day.
Looking beyond the flat expanse, Laurence focused on something which, despite not being the first time he’d laid his eyes upon it, still seemed to play tricks on his brain. Some sort of monstrous vessel was firmly planted on the planet surface far in the distance. The vessel was like none that Laurence had ever seen. Huge and featureless in its design, it had come to his attention on waking a few days previously. It was quite a shock as it certainly hadn’t been there the night before. The speed of its arrival left Laurence with no doubt that it was a ship as such a colossal structure could never have been constructed in so short a time.
He wondered if it was the same craft that had overwhelmed his starship. Having been under a dental anaesthesia on that day, he’d never seen the attacking ship. Then, upon waking, he’d only had a few moments of terror as the Carcarrion looming over him sent him straight back into slumber. The next thing he’d been aware of was this hellish landscape.
On first inspection, the huge vessel appeared to be a simple, silver cube, its gleaming surfaces reflecting the deep, orange skies and black, volcanic peaks. As Laurence had examined it longer, however, he’d seen that it was made up of thousands of smaller cubes, some of which would occasionally twist and move and in doing so change parts of the vessel’s structure. Occasionally, one of the cubes would detach itself and fly solo towards the horizon, eventually disappearing from sight into the volcanic dust clouds or vertically into the dark, fiery sky. Laurence could only speculate as to their destinations.
Despite its simplistic design, the vessel oozed technological superiority. Whoever or whatever had engineered it were certainly more advanced than humans. Although Laurence knew little of the Carcarrions, the thought of them achieving such a technological feat was a tough one to swallow. He saw undeniable intelligence in the eyes of his captors, but for them to be responsible for such engineering wizardry seemed an absurd stretch of the imagination. He had considered the possibility that the Carcarrions were simply slaves, somehow bent to the will of a higher force. But he had a hard time believing that too. For one, the tall, dark aliens appeared far too willing, too full of malice towards himself and his fellow captives to be sharing in their fate.
Pushing his thoughts aside, Laurence crouched down and picked up a few fist-sized rocks, testing each of their weights in turn. The rocks must have been incredibly dense; even the small ones were surprisingly heavy. Making his choice, he straightened up and, holding the rock in his right fist, began to repeatedly curl his arm.
“How you getting on finding that perfect pressure?”
Without looking up, Laurence smiled. His mind was now calm enough that his new friend’s, stealthy approaches no longer startled him. “I’m getting there.”
“Glad to hear it,” Tark said, his long, white dreadlocks bouncing almost comically as he hopped over the rocks to perch nearby. For a moment, the little man just sat and stared at Laurence with his strange smile. Laurence glanced up and smiled back, all the while continuing to curl the rock.
“I’m afraid time is running short,” Tark said eventually.
Laurence gave him a questioning look.
“I’ve just been to the North border of your new little pen. Your captors are driving metallic spikes into the ground. My guess is they’ll soon be activating them: a pretty little force field to keep you truly captive.”
Laurence swapped the rock to his left fist and began to curl. It didn’t escape his attention that his strange friend always referred to the captives as if he wasn’t a member of that particular group. But he was real. Laurence was now of sound enough mind to know that the little man wasn’t simply a figment of his imagination, a subconscious mentor, or a manifested guide to bring him back to sanity.
“A force field? Maybe they’re fearful,” Laurence suggested after a moment. “Now, we’re regaining strength and starting to communicate.”
Tark gave a little shrug. “From my observations, I’m not sure that fearful is a word they’re all that familiar with. Not in respect to their own emotions at any rate.”
Laurence nodded. “Maybe you’re right. Just keeping their pets in a smaller, more orderly cage then.” He strained on his last few arm curls then let the heavy rock thud to the ground. “Of course, sometimes, pets can escape. And on occasion, they bite their owners…sometimes even fatally.”
“Getting strong and quick, Laurence,” Tark said with a wide grin. “Seems that perfect pressure is really working out for you, eh?”
Laurence grinned. “I’ve a way to go yet. My arms still feel like wet spaghetti.”
The little man let out a squeal of a laugh. “Spaghetti arms, very good, young Laurence.” He popped off his perch with the gusto and nimbleness of a child. “Of course, I think you know that I wasn’t referring to your muscles.”
Before Laurence could reply, Tark spun to his left and straightened up in his usual meerkat fashion. “I’m afraid I must be off.”
“No, wait. What did you mean by running out of time? Time for what?”
Tark stared at him with those soul-seeking eyes. “Do you trust me, Laurence?” he asked, his tone turning serious.
“Of course,” Laurence replied without hesitation.
“You mustn’t. Not yet. Trust has to be earned. And these people, these soldiers,” he swept his skinny arm over the far-reaching group that surrounded them. “They have to learn to trust you.”
“Why…? Why me?” Laurence asked the question even though he already knew the answer.
“Because they’re already starting to look up to you. You’re a leader, Laurence. Even under all that molly-coddled flesh, there was always the potential for great leadership. It’s coiled up in your genes, just waiting to be sprung.”
Laurence stared back at him. “You seem very sure of yourself…very sure of me.”
The little man just smiled again.
Unsurprised by the lack of answer, Laurence continued. “So how do you and I go about earning each other’s trust?”
“Simple,” Tark replied. He extended a deeply tanned arm to point a knobbly finger. “You see that large, triangular rock? The one protruding near the western border of the flatland?”
Laurence’s eyes followed the finger. “I see it.”
“Meet me there in twenty minutes,�
� he said. Without waiting for a reply, the little man turned and strolled off, whistling a jolly tune.
It took Laurence a good deal longer than twenty minutes to work his way westward to Tark’s triangular rock. Many of his fellow captives had stopped him en route, wanting to talk, seek advice, or simply shake his hand. Laurence was unused to such attention. His fellow soldiers seemed to recognize something in him, something in his words and actions that inspired them. He wasn’t sure where these words and actions were coming from. They just came, and he was grateful to let them. His growing strength felt good, but it scared him a little too. What if it failed him at some crucial moment? The thought was a flash, and Laurence didn’t allow its effects to linger. Perhaps that was strength in itself: the ability to push such thoughts aside, to overrule them.
Circling the rock, Laurence eventually found Tark casually leaning against its far side. The little man was gazing into the distance. At first, Laurence assumed he was staring at a cluster of large volcanoes that had been particularly angry for the past few days. On closer inspection, however, he saw that the little man’s gaze was directed above the spewing black mountains and directly at the shimmering red sun.
“Careful of your eyes,” Laurence said, his tone light but only half-joking.
Tark didn’t drop his gaze. “Don’t fear for my peepers, Laurence. There’s plenty of ash in this sky. Besides, there’s an abundance of free energy just begging to be borrowed from that big fiery ball, and I’m happy to accept it.”
Laurence replied with a non-committing nod. For all he knew, the old man was right. He was certainly getting his boundless energy from somewhere. He looked back at the large, triangular rock. “So I’m intrigued. What’s the big deal with this rock? Something special about it?’
“No,” Tark replied, dropping his skyward gaze to shoot him a grin. “At least no more special than the rest of the rocks on this beautiful planet.”