“Bite me, douchebag? Really doctor, is that the kind of language a man of your educational background should be using when addressing the locals on a diplomatic mission such as this?”
“It seemed appropriate at the time,” Skorsson replied innocently.
“Well, I’ll have to note it in my report, but first let’s get you and these others out of those chains shall we?”
One of the guards had the keys and all of the slaves were released after Farr had released Skorsson first.
“I think they’re both dead,” one of the slaves said frightfully. “They’ll kill us for this.”
“Not if you’re not here,” Farr replied looking at the bodies and taking the weapons he found there. He’d had no choice but to kill them because he couldn’t risk going anything less than full throttle against them. They might’ve given a warning and there was only one way in and out of this tunnel. Their deaths, while regrettable, were but the natural outcome of the choices they’d made he told himself. But was it really, his conscious asked him on another level. As bad as their behavior had been, wasn’t it just another predictable outcome of the society in which they’d been molded? Wasn’t the real enemy here the long disgraced corporate model of old Earth? These were questions for another time he told himself and turned his attention to the erstwhile slaves who were in a panic.
“If we run and they catch us they’ll kill us,” one said, his eyes frightened. Eric stepped forward at that and spoke to them harshly.
“It seems you’re going to die anyway so you might as well die trying to escape. Besides, if you don’t try to escape, the Earthman may kill you himself.” Farr’s head almost jerked up at that but he controlled the action and let Eric handle the scene. “Would you rather risk the wrath of the Suits or the Earthman?” Eric finished eyeing each and every one of them. They cast frightened glances at Farr, gulped and nodded. Eric then placed his hand to the side of each man’s face and looked long into their eyes.
“Come back to us,” the young man whispered to each and remarkably the slaves immediately calmed and did as they were told.
Farr passed a weapon to Eric and one to Skorsson. He kept the one he’d taken from the guard in the passageway for his own use.
“Gentlemen, under the circumstances shoot to kill is the only advice I can give you. Eric I don’t think we can go back the way we came. Do you have another route that might be faster?”
“Yes, but let’s put the bodies in an out of the way place and cover them with rocks first. That might delay any pursuit, although not many of the Suits would come down here unless they had orders to do so. They’ll eventually be missed though and a search will happen.”
Eric had the now freed Workers stash the two guards at the far end of the tunnel in which they’d been working and piled up the free rocks in the area around them in as natural a manner as could be accomplished.
“The Workers will be fine in the tunnels, Eric, and I’ve got my lowlight opticals, but Dr. Skorsson has lost his opticals and will need someone to guide him through the darkness,” Farr said as they moved out. Eric assigned one of the men to watch over Skorsson. He noticed a decided change in the boy’s attitude and the decisiveness that had settled onto him was a good fit. The other Workers immediately obeyed any commands he issued. Their fear and apathetic outlook seemed to have disappeared entirely and they now moved with purpose. They reentered the ventilation shafts where Farr and Eric had exited. They passed the guard, now awake, tied up in the tunnel. Several of the Workers stepped on him, which was surprising considering their visual acuity. Farr presumed that the missteps were merely accidental.
Eric led the party with Skorsson in the middle and Farr covering the rear. His route immediately veered away from the living places of the Suits into tunnels unlit by any light. He briefly felt sorry for Skorsson and then his opticals switched to standby, putting him into the same boat as the good doctor, so to speak. Farr concentrated on the breathing and almost inaudible scrapes of the Workers as they plied through the darkness and was able, for the most part, to avoid stepping on anyone. He could clearly hear Skorsson’s breathing ahead even though he was doing his best to remain silent. He needs a little oxygen and food and he’ll be alright, Farr thought, and maybe a year of Dr. Alexeyev’s therapy as well in order to deal with his recent enslavement. The initial indications were good that he’d come through unscathed. Skorsson had sported many bruises, but he suffered them uncomplainingly during the journey. Finally they halted and there was just enough light to see the shadowy forms of the Workers ahead.
All of sudden Eric stepped forward and disappeared. The next Worker in line did the same. Obviously there was a lower opening ahead and he hoped that Skorsson would be able to go through without injury. He shouldn’t have worried. The Workers gently lifted him and lowered him down to the floor of the tunnels below. Farr negotiated the opening without aid not wishing to show vulnerability in front of the Workers. It was a personal idiosyncrasy of his and he was aware of it. He just hoped Dr. Alexeyev never became acquainted with this particular personality quirk.
As they moved through the stygian maze he noted a differential treatment of Dr. Skorsson by the Workers. It hadn’t been there just after the sudden violence that had ended their captivity, only after he had addressed the good doctor by name. The group paused and stood stock still ending Farr’s reveries. They stood thus for several minutes while Eric held his head in a tilted manner.
“What is he doing?” Farr whispered to the man in front of him.
“He is listening to the sounds and vibrations of the rock so he can determine which way to proceed,” the man replied.
Eric finally straightened his head and motioned them forward to an area where four tunnels converged and went straight through to the one on the right side. The tunnel widened after a short way and continued to brighten as they moved along in single file, silent as the grave, except maybe for Skorsson. After what may have been several kilometers Eric went to the side of the ever widening chamber and detached a screen from over the vent. There was a rush of fresh air through the space and Farr felt momentarily refreshed and uplifted.
“This is one of the main tunnels but it is on the Suit side of the offering place. It is possible we may have a chance meeting with some of their patrols who look for our place of living.”
“My orders stand. Do not hesitate to shoot,” he said looking at Eric and Skorsson. “The light will be better in the main tunnel. Do you think you can see well enough to shoot Dr. Skorsson?”
“My eyes have adjusted pretty well, so yes, I think I can. Eric,” he asked “do you know how to use that weapon?”
“It’s a simple mechanism,” Eric replied factually, “with compressed air provided by this CO2 cartridge which propels a primitive obsidian projectile through the cylinder at low speed muzzle velocities therefore limiting the maximum effective range to just under thirty meters. The sighting mechanism is flawed slightly and indicates that the projectile drops slightly left and down requiring a compensating action up and right.” Eric finished his explanation while looking down the barrel and aiming along the wall.
“That sounded like a ‘yes’,” Skorsson said blinking and glancing at Farr.
“I concur, let’s move out.”
Farr was amazed at how grateful he was to be back in the large, previously oppressive, main tunnels. The gloom still hung about him like a palpable element but his foray into the venting system had temporarily made the main tunnels a wide open space in his mind. Everything was relative to your state of mind he reflected as they made their way toward the place of the Workers.
They passed the offering tunnel without incident and were approaching the junction of the tunnels of Five and Six when Eric paused and motioned everyone against the walls. The Workers blended in like shadows in the wide tunnels and the one responsible for Skorsson put a calming hand on his shoulder, looked him in the eyes and whispered softly to him. Skorsson seemed to relax and meld again
st the wall. Farr disciplined his mind, calming himself and willing himself to be invisible. While many thought it was nothing more than a myth that a person could feel another watching them, Farr knew it to be the truth, a sort of primitive sixth sense that still clung to the human race. He kept his eyes down and away from direct contact with the approaching figures that, as it turned out, was a heavily armed party of Suits. They walked obliviously down the center of the enormous darkened tunnel, laughing crudely and talking as they went, never knowing death was all about them. One passed within five meters of Farr and took no notice of him in the dark shadows where he stood silently willing himself into the rock.
After a few minutes passed Eric moved them along at a cautious rate hugging the shadows and they were soon into safe territory.
“Who?” The word drifted softly along the faint breeze of the tunnels.
“Eric of the family Gaetos,” he glanced quickly at Skorsson and continued, “Alexander of the family Skorsson, the Earth commander Callum Farr and others who wish to return home.”
Several figures approached cautiously out of the shadows each wielding an obsidian blade. When the lead figure was close enough to make out the faces surrounding Eric, he came as close to an emotional outburst as Farr had seen among the occupants of this dim, brutal world. His face briefly lost its neutrality and then recomposed itself in seconds but his hands were trembling as he approached one of the Workers returning from slavery.
“Greetings my brother,” he said softly and the former slave reached out his hand and placed it on the other’s face and looked deeply into his eyes.
“It is good to see you again my brother. I’ve so missed our arguments,” the man said and brief smiles flickered and disappeared on their faces. The guards quickly ushered them in and called for more guards to come forward, for while they were obviously pleased to see the returning slaves, they were bothered by the various possibilities which would inevitably accompany this homecoming. Farr gave his and Skorsson’s weapons to the guards and followed the contingent into the place of the Workers.
Farr detached himself from the Workers as the various reunions occurred between the former slaves and their families and half carried the weary Skorsson along with him as they searched for Ming, Takashi and Tegev. By the time they found them Skorsson was leaning heavily on Farr and half dozing. As the three spotted them Tegev leapt to her feet and covered the distance in a single bound, temporarily forgetting the lesser gravity and barely sliding to a halt in front of Skorsson.
“I’ll take him commander,” she said detaching Skorsson from Farr’s grip, rather possessively he thought, and helping the middle aged man into the spot along the wall that the others had been occupying. She immediately set to work on his wounds while chastising him severely for his earlier heroism.
“Oh child,” he said in a fatherly voice, looking at her face. “Did those animals hurt you?”
“I’m fine. Don’t try to divert the subject. We were talking about that foolishness earlier,” she said tending to his wounds and forcing food and water on him. That suddenly reminded Farr of just how hungry he was. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten, but his best guess put it at twenty hours. He mentioned this to Ming and Takashi.
“More like forty six hours, Commander,” Takashi said.
“What?!” he exclaimed. “That’s impossible.”
“No, he’s right,” Ming confirmed. “It’s impossible to judge time here and I guess we just got swept up in events and adrenaline. It’s been almost twenty hours since you went after Skorsson.”
“I definitely need something to eat and some sleep then.”
“I’d highly recommend that because Takashi and I’ve put together a little EMP device for you.” Takashi gave him a wry look and Ming threw up his hands, “Okay, it was mostly Takashi but if we’re going to enter the ‘garden’ you’ll need to be well rested and fed. Takashi can you make sure Skorsson and Tegev are good. We may need them in about twenty four hours.” Takashi scurried off to assist Skorsson although Tegev appeared to have it under control.
“Here,” Ming said handing Farr two of the nutrient bars and four supplements. Farr looked at them and took one of the bars and two supplements and stashed the rest for when he woke up.
“The Master Chief is probably fit to be tied about now,” Farr said, his face screwing into one of those looks of dread Wells seemed able to inspire.
“Yeah, he’s probably going to be picking shreds of our ass from between his teeth for a week after he’s done with this ass chewing,” Ming said, and Farr laughed through his weariness at the remark.
“Yes, he does have a way with words, doesn’t he?”
“Master Chief Wells is a problem for later. How did it go?”
“It was quite the learning experience. Did you know that there are only four hundred and sixty eight Suits? And that they’ve enslaved one thousand four hundred and four of Eric’s people?” Farr told him of the things that Eric had divulged and the things he appeared able to do with very little effort.
“What I’m wondering is, can they all do the things he could?”
“You stay here and eat and then lie down and get some sleep. I’ll go around the gathering chamber and find out how much of what you heard is gospel. How were they treating Skorsson?”
Farr told him everything, including Skorsson’s comment and the two guards he killed.
“There wasn’t anything else you could’ve done that deep in enemy territory. I’m surprised you let the one in the vent live. I don’t know if I could’ve walked away,” he said bleakly. “But on a brighter note, ‘Bite me, douchebag!’ You’ve got to be kidding me. I didn’t think he had it in him. By the way, I think he’s related to the Foreman.” Farr gave him a tired astonished look and Ming explained.
“I’m not sure anything could surprise me right now. Just give me five hours Ming,” Farr said, his eyes drooping. Ming nodded as Farr quite suddenly lay down and went off to sleep quickly.
“Ilsa’s right, those pills work fast,” Ming said to himself as he moved off to talk with the occupants of the central chamber.
CHAPTER 13
Master Chief Wells was decidedly not in a good mood, Tomas Bellerino observed laconically. He growled at every failed communications check and the silence from the surface was just making him worse. He quickly handed the sensor check updates to Wells and removed himself from the bridge leaving Faye, Mbata and Dr. Alexeyev with the Master Chief. Good luck to them was his parting thought, they’ll need it.
“Master Chief,” Technician Faye, now back aboard, said tentatively. “Earth Base is calling for an update.” Wells shot her a glance that would’ve boiled water and Faye turned back to the communications station saying, “Right, awaiting further developments from the landing party, will advise at earliest.” It was the same message she had sent every twelve hours since they’d lost total contact with the landing party.
“Patience Chris,” Alexeyev said quietly. Wells wheeled around, a scowl on his face. “Save it Master Chief, it’s wasted on me. I’m probably the only practicing psychologist you’ll ever meet. It works better on the younger ones. And Quincy,” she added with a mischievous smile. “You absolutely terrify him.”
The corner of Wells mouth twitched in a smile and then straightened. “Those two yahoos left me here minding the store and playing clerk to politicos on Earth. I should be down there!” he replied grouchily.
“I know, I know, they’re off having fun and games and you’re stuck here babysitting. Get over it. It’s not always going to be like this and they obviously ran into something that was unexpected and they’re dealing with it.”
“I know,” he rasped under his breath, frustrated, “but that young popinjay may need me and he’s tied my hands up here.”
“The commander’s a big boy and quite capable, if I’m any judge of character.”
“He’s all of that, and then some. Good son of a bitch in a scrap too. But he doesn’t ha
ve me down there and I don’t like that.”
“I can’t think of a better place for you when he does need help. He’s told us that there are warbots guarding the ceilinged area of Five and he’s trying to figure a way in without the loss of life. Give him a little more time.”
“Without the loss of anyone else’s life,” Wells corrected her. “He’ll put his own ass on the line before anyone else. That’s the way he is and the way he’s always been. That’s why I need to be there.”
“You need to be here because when he does need something you’re the only one who can make it happen. Would you want him to have to rely on one of the technicians or scientists? How about Mbata, for instance?”
Wells glared maliciously in Mbata’s direction. Quincy noticed him looking and quickly averted his gaze, pretending to reconfigure the computer. And Wells knew that he was pretending. He liked having that effect on young officers, which is exactly what he considered the scientists. It was good for their character. Wells snorted.
“No, doctor I wouldn’t. Message received loud and clear. Faye,” he barked. “Try the landing party again!”
“Yes, Master Chief,” she said jumping slightly. That made Wells feel a little better. A couple of minutes later when she gave her report his mood returned to its previous disposition. Damn those two, he thought to himself, running out on me and having all of the fun.
—————
“You wished to see me Foreman?” Eric asked quietly as he seated himself near the old man. The Foreman continued to sit silently, his eyes focused on some far off sight that was beyond the mind of Eric to perceive. Finally, the old man’s body relaxed and his eyes came back to the world around him. It seemed, to Eric, that he did so almost regretfully.
“Yes my son, I do. And was your mission to retrieve the commander’s companion successful?” the Foreman asked.
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