Nothing abnormal was visible, which seemed imprudent to take comfort in since it had taken only a matter of minutes for the creatures to access the camp and kill everyone the last time she was here. Ayla assumed that she would figure out soon enough if leaving the cavern was worth the risk. She crept through the foliage striving to remain as quiet and invisible as possible. From the trail, she wasn’t able to see much of anything moving as the sun was barely penetrating the jungle’s canopy. Fear began to get the better of her and the urge to turn back was nearly too strong to push away. Ayla remained low to the ground reducing her target area while getting a better visual beneath the hanging fronds. It wasn’t clear if this had offered any advantage, but she needed to take every precaution possible. Slowly, Ayla moved down the trail and under the palm trees. After entering the camp there was a cold, wet, sticky substance from the trail that coated her hands and lower legs. Ayla lifted a hand up to the sunlight and realized that she was crawling through blood. Once again, the fear became overwhelming and she leapt to her feet, frantically wiping the blood from her hands onto the soiled blue jeans. Squinting in the darkness utilizing the increasing light, body parts were visible on the ground and in the trees. The members of the team had been dismembered and their body parts tossed all over the camp.
“John, where is he?” Ayla asked aloud and ran to the location where the chair was that he was sitting in before she and the doctor had left. Before she could reach him, a light humming sound caught her attention. She fell on the ground and quickly rolled the upper body of one of the men on top of her. Nausea was quickly setting in due to the odor. The desire to vomit threatened to give her away but surviving depended on being invisible. Ayla squinted her eyes as to appear to be among the dead while watching a square shaped object hover and fly over the area. As it approached, the same symbol branded on the creatures became visible on the bottom of its casing. The drone zipped around observing the body parts on the ground and inspected the tents. Ayla wasn’t sure what it was looking for, but she didn’t want it to find her. Without warning, it returned into the direction from which it had come.
Ayla pushed the body off then stood up and after a second of reflection recognized the shirt that Miguel was wearing. The sun was brighter and revealed Carlos’ blood in the trail where she crawled into camp. His arm was ten feet in the air hanging from a tree limb. It was recognizable by the camo shirt that he was wearing when they entered the camp. She turned and looked in the tent and found John’s body. For some unknown reason, he hadn’t been dismembered like the others. Holding out hope, she ran to him but realized quickly that he was gone as she looked at the fist-sized hole in his chest. The tears began to flow and for a moment there was no longer any concern of the creatures. John was like a brother. Ten years of working together and now he was gone at such a young age. Ayla sat up in the tent and heard the humming sound growing louder as the drone returned. There was no time to hide. Ayla picked up the strange weapon with her right hand and pointed it. Since the design was intended for fingers much longer than hers, she was not able to reach what seemed to be the most obvious location of the trigger with the same hand. With her left hand by a button, she waited. The drone flew by the front of the tent and she pushed the trigger. Ayla was startled by several quick blasts of blinding white light that flew from the weapon. Upon recognition of the instrument, the drone, as if alive, tried to get away. The blast flew out of the tent, arched sharply to the left and caught it before it could escape. The drone exploded sending metal shrapnel across the camp.
Ayla knew that they would come looking for her. She grabbed her now soiled backpack and filled it with soft drinks from the ice chest while leaving the food, then retrieved a satellite phone. Relief came over her when it came on and she was able to make a call for help. Sitting among the dead she kept thinking about how the team had been so effortlessly slaughtered.
While standing up to return to the cavern, Ayla noticed something mounted to a tree about four feet above the ground. No, she thought as she walked over and confirmed that what she had seen was a game camera. Three more were attached to trees around the camp and were facing in all directions. After quickly finding a large screwdriver she slid it into the lock and yanked upward. The hard-plastic casing broke and the protective door swung open. It was on and clicked as it snapped a photo. The sequence was set to fifteen seconds. The only question was, what did it capture? A sixty-four-gigabyte memory card was in the slot and it was quickly removed and popped into the side of her computer, which seemed to be taking its time booting up. She moved to the sidebar, clicked on the files, and was optimistic when it noted that five hundred and twenty-nine photos were captured. Ayla hesitated and clicked on the file and selected to view it in large images.
The first fifty shots were of the men setting up camp and sitting around, then of them entering the camp and leaving again. But Ayla kept scrolling and then she nearly dropped the computer. In a head-on shot, it was the larger creature as it entered the camp. The camera caught the expression of the men as they looked on in horror. The second one entered from the right. She quickly copied a few of the images of the alien creatures. She continued to scroll and realized that the last hundred photos, with the exception of her entering the camp, had been triggered by the movements of blood dripping from the trees. Having seen enough, Ayla put the SD card back into its slot. Nausea was returning and staying in the camp with the dead men was not an option. It was too much to bear so Ayla sought refuge in the cavern until she heard the approaching authorities.
Chapter 2
A large rectangular display was before her. The design perfectly suited the intended purpose utilizing a twenty-degree rise allowing an unobstructed view of Tilhar’s prized metallic possessions. Despite the incline, the display allowed for reliable retention of the most volatile metal known in the universe. The female slave anxiously looked over row after row of hundreds of pieces waring in her mind as which one to select without suffering the consequences she had come to know all too well. She never knew the great offense she must have perpetrated against him, or why Tilhar, her master, hated her so?
For the mighty Tisht leader, she was but a trophy. His fame and fortune came primarily at the expense of Earth people, such as the woman, and other beings he had forcefully taken from weaker and less advanced civilizations despite the efforts of the Universal Council to prevent such atrocities. Tilhar looked upon her with hate and disdain for her species and envisioned a day when the Council was dissolved, and he could pick freely among the lesser cultures and take whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. Earth and those like her would be his for the taking one day. They would already live in a world where the strongest survived and made the rules had his attempts to delegitimize the self-righteous Council been successful. The seeds had been sown and would bear fruit for him in due time.
The Universal Council was comprised of powerful nations that, when unified, were stronger than his nation. The Tisht leader knew it and had no illusion of what would happen if it were learned that he continued to violate the ordinances they referred to as the Universal Code. The Alliance protected the weak planets that were ripe and ready to be taken. The resources could prove to be invaluable. He needed to deal with the problematic member nations of the Council. The naked Earth woman on display in his Great Hall was his way of showing how weak the Earth people were and was a daily reminder of the task at hand. The Earth woman’s nakedness revealed the bruising, which gave him joy to look upon. The dark blotches that covered her body in the places he struck had shown just how weak the species was.
The woman never understood why so many would find her interesting enough to gawk at through the acrylic walls. Yes, she was different, but didn’t know why or what she was? What was even more perplexing was why they liked to inflict pain? The servant couldn’t recall much about life up to that point and was at a loss as to what she may have done to make so many loath and hate her. The hate resulted in merciless punishment. Naked, br
uised, and broken, the servant was of no threat to any of them. Yet, Tilhar loved to play his painfilled game which always ended in brutal torment resulting in her incapacitation. It would take several days to recover from the onslaught of pain brought on by selecting the wrong piece of metal and losing his game. Upon making contact with the wrong one, pain would shoot through what seemed like every inch of her body, burning the bottom of her feet until followed by unconsciousness. The woman would be tossed back into the box with no medical help. She was simply left to heal or die based on her body and the desire to live. In many ways, the broken servant never truly healed.
“Bulug!” her master shouted and slammed a pair of three-fingered fists down on the side of the black metal chair that was the size and make of a throne. His impatient hate-filled eyes were staring down. The Tisht leader was like a volcano on the verge of a catastrophic eruption snorting with every breath and sitting on the edge of the seat ready to fly off and attack at any second.
The servant didn’t know anything about her origins. The Tilhar and all those he had interacted with were nothing like her kind. She was completely different in appearance and in the manner by which she communicated. Replicating the manner by which the Tisht spoke was not possible for a creature like her. Due to her confinement and the manipulation of her mind, the woman’s understanding of the language was limited. She often wondered if it was possible to learn to communicate with them more effectively. If she were able, would they continue to look at her as such a lowly and worthless creature? The servant very much wanted to be a part of something, to have a life that mattered, one that was of importance even if it meant being a servant. But the constant physical abuse assured her that it was never to be. After a number of mistakes, which had led to painful beatings, she learned quickly to discern the different tones of the clicking noises and knew without question when he was losing patience. The little that remained was wearing thin and Tilhar was about to lash out again. The woman stood on the threshold of another painful experience to be followed by weeks of soreness and healing if the wrong selection was made. The anxiety was nearly crippling, but a decision had to be made.
The memories of the ginn still haunted her, but as time passed, so did the memories. She still recalled being a part of a breeding program with others like her, which was one of the few times she had ever seen others of her kind. The cries and moans for help still haunted her but were fading. The memory of giving birth to one of her kind while in that place was not. She could still see the young one as it was pulled from her and passed on to one of them never to be seen again. Soon after, the woman was tossed into a cage, then ended up with Tilhar, the Tisht leader.
The only happy time's life offered was when Tilhar would leave. During the weeks he was gone the torture stopped. This was the best that life had offered. On occasion, she was given a set of tasks. The break in her confinement was a welcomed relief. To get out of the room and do anything that did not result in weeks of recovery, no matter how lowly, mildly rejuvenated her sanity.
She would often dream about a strange world alive with wonderful colors and beings that looked just as she did. The night prior to her current situation, the dreams seemed to be exceptionally vivid and real. In her imaginings, those of her kind were nice and seemed to show positive affection. The name Sonia was often heard as they looked upon her and seemed to speak, but she could not recall most of their words, only a name. For some unknown reason, the very thought of the nameless faces conjured a sense of hope despite the current reality. The beings lived in very odd and intriguing structures and if it were possible to step from the cold transparent prison and into that world, even if only for a second, would be worth even the most torturous death. On two occasions the outside world had proven to be more reality than imagination as she was able to see it while in transport. But it didn’t look, smell, or feel like the one in her dreams. The light from the sky was nothing like the place in her mind, which was warm and inviting. Perhaps it was simply the inspiration for the fantasy of a life beyond the prison. The dreams were so real that it seemed as if she could touch the light and immerse herself in its warmth while taking in deep breaths of wonderful aromas. Sonia longed to know if there was really such a place and the expectation of finding it one day was a reason to endure and live. It was the only thing that gave her purpose.
In one way, the imaginings were almost another form of torture. Seeing and not knowing the source or why it was there and the desire of it to be true was maddening at times. The need to go there, wherever it was, ate at her soul as time passed and it seemed like the dream grew more impossible and further away.
Twice during transport, she had seen other beings that looked like her kind. They were kept in cages and all of them were slaves just as she was. Perhaps the only reason for her kind to exist was to be servants and nothing more. Maybe they only lived at the mercy of the Tish, she considered. Communicating with the others was forbidden and was punished with ten lashes of a long stiff rod across the back. Each strike so intense that it removed the flesh and embedded the error into the minds and bodies of the offender to be obeyed without compromise.
Once, Sonia attempted to speak to a dark-skinned male and was beaten when Tilhar caught her. All Sonia remembered was waking up covered with strange markings from where he had struck her. The pain was unbearable for a time and the scars that marked her back were still sensitive. Despite the brutal treatment, she was still forced to carry out her duties or would have been denied food and water as a consequence.
Sonia was kept in a thick acrylic prison cell that had been constructed in the center of the Grand Hall where Tilhar liked to meet and entertain. It was built for the purpose of housing one of the weak Earthlings in an effort to show his loathing and disdain for the lesser species. For him, it was like giving the middle finger, despite only having three, to the Universal Council who had invested heavily in their protection. He despised the member nations who, after more than five hundred years, still fought to squelch the rights of the strong in favor of the weak. It was pathetic, the Earth people were wretched, and he proved this by putting the naked human on display in his Grand Hall. It was a show of strength and dominance. Tilhar would often entertain or have gatherings of business associates from across the galaxy. He would proudly display her without clothes on so that his guests could gaze upon the anatomy of the weak and inferior creature in support of his cause. Tilhar also understood the psychology of her kind and knew that she belonged to a very emotional species. It was critically important to take away any dignity or hope that may linger.
She wanted to end the suffering but didn’t understand how to do that on her own. Despite the current situation being all that she knew for certain, something in her was confident that there had to be more. Maybe it was the fault of the dreams that had given her a false sense of hope. Sonia wanted to escape and find others like herself and learn where she had come from. Perhaps she too had others…maybe they wouldn’t hate or beat on her. Certainly, it was strange and fruitless to think that she could get away…that was a silly dream. Exactly how would it be possible? Sonia was smaller and much weaker than the beings that had enslaved her. There was no way to fight her way out of this and even if she did there was the lingering question of where she would go and how would she hide? There was no way to get to the place in her dreams even if it were real. Was it possible to find others of her kind looking for the same place? She couldn’t stop herself from considering the possibilities.
From behind her, sitting in a chair watching, Tilhar was taking delight in Sonia’s fearful continence as she desperately struggled to find the right piece to select. He was ready to see the climax of his little game and began to let it be known that she needed to decide. Sonia could tell this by the tone of the clicking noises he was beginning to make. Only a few seconds remained to make the selection, or he would leap from his chair and strike her in the back of the head then take a piece and deliver the shocks himself. Her pain gave the
creature a great deal of pleasure.
Sonia’s mouth was dry, and her hands were shaking badly. Hope to find the right piece was once again fading. How could she find the piece of metal that wasn’t programmed or refined? The odds were that it didn’t exist at all, which made the game even more hopeless than it was. It was all a tease, a way to get her to play the game that didn’t require beatings or starvation as a motivator. The display was five feet across and fifty feet long. Hundreds of elongated and odd-shaped metals ranging from shiny silver to bright gold in color were displayed in a precise order. Each piece was the original size and shape as when it was taken from the mine. The elongated pieces were pointed with jagged edges while other pieces looked round and harmless. Fearing that any selection of a pointed piece would result in being cut or stabbed, Sonia had previously made the decision to pick up a piece that was almost perfectly round. The end result was what she considered to be the most painful and severe shock she had ever experienced. Recovery, while never fully achieved, had taken nearly two weeks.
She didn’t know what the metal was only that this was a collection of some of the purest and rarest pieces in all the universe. Possessing and displaying it in such a manner was a sign of extreme wealth and power, even more so than owning fair-skinned slaves that looked like her. It was desired and needed across the universe. Nations went to war over it and Tilhar exhibited some of the most valuable pieces in his Grand Hall.
Universal Code Page 3