He sank back down into his chair and let out a sigh, massaging his temples, fighting the feeling of a painful headache building.
Could he teach himself to drive this contraption? Sure - that was a grand idea, but the irony of the whole situation was that even if he could pilot this ship, he didn't know - for the life of him - where home was.
The universe is a very big place.
Movement caught his eye. The scene through the viewscreen had changed. A once solid rock face was now a black triangular door. This door dissolved to white light, presenting in its place the silhouettes of two beings. They were bipeds, with two legs, two arms, a head perched upon a thin neck. They walked slowly, carefully, falling in step with one another with the precision of a marching band. They stopped a meter from the ship, their features captured in the expansive projection of the central viewscreen.
Ryan reached for his weapon.
As if on queue, throughout the ship, hatches released and opened. Down below the audible murmur of invisible motors revealed the lowering of the ramp. The murmur stopped with a piercing silence.
For a full minute, utter quiet.
Ryan stood transfixed, heart pounding in his ears. The aliens moved no further.
They didn't seem hostile. Not like before. That’s a good sign.
He swallowed with a dry gulp.
Life had not left this planet. His welcoming party was proof - and they were waiting for him. The ship was wide open now. If the planet’s atmosphere was poison, then it was already too late for him.
Maybe they had a doctor on call.
He laughed at his own thought.
They’d probably consider him insane, laughing for no perceptible reason, and proceed to kill him out self-preservation.
Stop. No use over thinking this.
He headed toward the hatch, weapon grasped tightly for reassurance.
One thing for sure, he was not going to become a slave again.
When he arrived at the ramp, small wisps of dust were floating in, slowly infiltrating the ship's interior. If the outer atmosphere could kill him, he was about to find out. He breathed in the dusty air, testing it. It carried a tinge of ash and sulfur and was quite warm, but it seemed breathable.
Another mystery - an oxygen laden atmosphere in a world with no visible plant life? Then again, the perilous winds did not seem to be infiltrating this small landing perch. Perhaps his visitors have extended some sort of shield?
He walked down slowly, one step at a time. Glassy sand particles littered the lower part of the ramp. They crackled sharply under his miner's boots. The two aliens watched him with their large, glassy, black eyes. Neither one even so much as twitched.
He kept his weapon ready but not pointed directly at them, and approached slowly, stopping with a few steps of them; sufficient distance to allow him time to move if he needed to.
They were similar to humans in a basic sense, with exaggerated large, bald, heads and large dark oval eyes. The nose was absent but for two small holes, and a thin-lipped small mouth profiled over an unpronounced chin. Hands were six-fingered, with what resembled two opposing thumbs. From what was visible, their skin seemed a pronounced gray, and they stood just slightly more than one meter tall. Neither gave way any facial expression.
“Hello, I am Ryan,” he attempted, using Trinarieit.
“Greetings, one called Ryan,” the shorter one replied in Trinarieit. Again, no expression, only those dark enlarged eyes.
“What do you call your planet of origin?”
“I am of Earth. I am man.”
“Earth?” the alien repeated, turning to his partner. They seemed to converse without words, somehow.
Were they telepathic?
“The vessel you arrived in was originally assigned to 299987-H. Is this what you call Earth?”
“No, that Kalmaka. Am of other planet. I slave. Escaped Xi-Empire.”
"We are very familiar with the Xi-Empire. The Xilozaks and Txtians are extremely violent.”
“We do not enslave others,” interjected the taller alien. “You are safe with us.”
Ryan nodded. “Thank you.”
"This vessel was assumed lost. How did you find it?"
"Help of natives," he responded, not quite sure they understood.
Again, they shifted glances to one another, although neither spoke.
"Man-from-Earth called Ryan, we would like you to come with us. We offer you medical attention and nourishment."
Were they on the level? For all he knew, they could be partners with the lizards and the bugs.
Sensing his hesitation, the taller attempted to soothe his concerns. “We are Xeronians. We do not harm or enslave other races for our enjoyment or benefit.”
Ryan nodded, not sure what to say, feeling somewhat emotional and therefore vulnerable.
Without another word, the two turned and headed for the door, gesturing for him to follow. He hesitated only a moment, considering for the last time, his options. It was an easy decision. He fell into step behind them.
The door dissolved once again, revealing a brightly-lit corridor. The light was so brilliant he had to navigate down the sloping corridor with one hand over his eyes, and the other tucked around his gun. He kept his bearings by skimming the weapon's butt end against the wall.
Everything around him was a bright, bleached white, walls, ceiling, and floor. Everything.
After walking for a brief time, they entered a small room, and a door sealed shut behind them. A second door resembling clear glass lowered between him and the two aliens.
Protection. They were afraid of him, or at least respectful. Of that, there was no doubt.
The floor lurched underfoot providing a subtle hint that they had begun to move – possibly an elevator.
He shifted nervously and noticed the aliens' features had changed slightly. Not their expressionless faces, as they remained placid as ever – the blood vessels within their temples were pulsing.
Looking down, he realized he had subconsciously moved his weapon to point toward them. He adjusted it to a less threatening position.
The taller one spoke, his voice carried easily through the transparent barrier, although slightly muffled. "My name Tsaurau. In a moment you will enter into a sterilization room where you will be exposed to a gas. It will not harm you."
True to the alien’s word, they arrived a few moments later, with the door behind Ryan sliding open in silent announcement.
"Please step out and remain stationary for a moment."
He glanced over. Their looks seemed earnest enough, but they could be interpreted completely different from human behavior. For all he knew, they could be getting ready to gas him to death and then feast on his dead corpse.
Damn it! Why was he getting so morbid? So far they had been honest with him. He had to wait it out. They would tip their hand soon enough.
He stepped out of the shuttle and found himself in a small, white room with a rectangular window directly ahead. The door slid shut behind him, and a moment later a stifled whirring sound carried through the air. Ryan felt a tingling all over his body. The sensation reminded him of being zapped with a harmless charge of static electricity. A slight mist filled the room.
The two aliens appeared staring through the window.
"You are abundant with micro-organisms. Certain types could be dangerous to our people. We must be very cautious. This sterilization chamber is intended to protect both parties."
The mist disappeared as quickly as it had come.
"Sterilisation is complete. There is a door immediately to your right. It opens to a room where you will be supplied with whatever you request. We ask that you remain there while we resolve the aspects of co-existence. We must also ask you to submit to some tests."
"What kind of tests?" He struggled to fight down a sudden panic. Hope they didn’t notice or hear it in his voice. They must not know that he is afraid. They cannot know.
"These are biological
tests. You will not be harmed.”
Ryan was unfamiliar with the Trinarieit terms, not being able to relate it back to native English.
“Biological test?”
“That of life.”
Ryan responded off-handedly in English, “Sorry, don’t get what you mean.” It took him a second to realize it. The Xeronians took a moment to answer back. “This is your home world language?”
“Yes – it is called English.”
“You must relate to us in your native language. We may be able to converse in this language to enable further analysis.”
Again, the alien was using unknown Trinarieit. Ryan only shook his head, frustrated. “We have some work to do on communications.”
The door to his right slid open. He walked into the room and looked around. The lighting was much dimmer and more suitable for human eyes. The room was large and circular. A small partition was present to hide what looked like a replica of a toilet. In the middle of the room, there was a fountain of warm water that shot up about two meters and down into a shallow, sloping, pool. The pool was circular with a radius of no more than two-to-three meters. Its waters looked inviting to his sore, dirty, tired body.
A large beige-colored mattress-sized cushion sat on the far side of the room. Blankets lay upon it, folded neatly. Once white walls, on the opposite side, poked through a thick covering of rich green moss. He surmised it was some kind of natural air conditioner or an efficient oxygen producer. It's possible that he requires more oxygen than the Xeronians were accustomed to.
He approached the small pool and looked at his reflection in the water - and could hardly recognize himself. His face was hidden under a dark, filthy blackness of strangled, matted hair, and his scraggly beard gave him the look of a madman - a scary sight.
To his immediate right was a wall, similar in characteristics to the interior of the ship. He touched it. The image of an Xeronian appeared.
"What do you require, Ryan?"
First name basis already. Like they’re my old friends or something.
"I need,” he struggled for the correct word, “cloth for drying and replacement clothing.”
"You will find this to your left. Other supplies are located at the rim of the fountain. Please submit your clothing into the hopper below this monitor. We will manufacture a new wardrobe for you immediately."
He had missed multiple words but guessed at the rest.
They wanted his clothes most likely. Didn’t matter - they were filthy rags at best.
"Thank you."
"You are welcome," the alien said pleasantly, and actually attempted a human smile.
Ryan cracked a coarse chuckle. He hadn't felt like this in a long time. Like a boy just out of school for the summer.
He quickly stripped and descended into the warm waters of the fountain. His cuts and bruises stung in the cleansing water, but it felt good. He reached for what resembled a bar of soap and tried it out on his hands. It was perfumed to a pleasing scent and worked well on the ground in dirt and grime. He quickly lathered up and meticulously cleaned every inch of his body, including his long stringy hair. All the time he bathed, he kept checking himself to see if he was truly awake. He had to be sure this wasn’t just a dream, that he wasn’t still enslaved within a mine, kilometers below the surface.
He shivered and dropped the soap. It floated upon the water's surface, leaving a cloudy trial that followed the micro-currents in the water.
No, this was reality. He had escaped.
He located what resembled an old-fashioned straight razor and carefully shaved his large beard away, then started on his hair. He hacked away methodically, dropping clumps into the soapy water. His reflection revealed a much older looking face than he remembered. He avoided looking as much as he could. It was a grim reminder of young, carefree years now lost.
Too many memories.
He left the fountain reluctantly, woefully abandoning the soothing waters. For the first time since his capture, he felt clean and refreshed. It beat the hell out of the quick hosing down they received at the mines.
The monitor sprung back to life as he toweled off. Ryan scrambled with the towel, slightly embarrassed.
"Your garments are now available in the hopper, Ryan," said a familiar Xeronian.
"Thank you," he stated to a now blank screen.
“Hopper,” he repeated in Trinarieit. “That’s a new one.”
He opened the hopper and found an identical set of clothes to the ones he had previously discarded. The material of which these were made was slightly softer and lighter, and lacked any hint of color, being absolutely white.
Naturally. He laughed again. He couldn't help himself. Why was everything so damned funny?
After dressing, he requested some food. The Xeronian asked him for details. He tried to explain the particulars of a fat, juicy steak. The alien twisted its mouth slightly, exercising, respectively, a pronounced facial contortion. They said they would try, however.
The expression was probably their version of distaste or disgust. It was not unlike a human’s. But they were aliens after all. What was a smile to them, or a frown? He had to throw out all human behavior expectations – and that would be difficult.
The meal arrived quickly. They had achieved the taste with moderate success. The solid food had a waxy aftertaste and was more than a bit bland, but the accompanying soup was very good.
Tsaurau appeared after Ryan was finished. The door slid open noiselessly.
Impeccable timing. He was, of course, being watched.
The alien did not step in immediately. Instead, he first scanned every square meter of room, large eyes drinking in every detail. Then he inspected Ryan head to foot. Satisfied, he ventured forth.
"Are you satisfied with our hospitality, Ryan?"
"What’s that?” Again, another word. He really should improve his Trinarieit.
“Are you referring to the term hospitality? Perhaps the term generosity, or kindness?”
Nothing sounded familiar – least of which any term one would hear in a slaver camp. “I thank you,” was all Ryan could say.
“I must take samples. I am required to obtain a few tissue cultures. It will take only a moment."
Ryan watched as he approached. Seemed obvious he needed something, most likely samples. He held out his arm to submit to a few scrapings of skin, a small sample of blood and hair. The needle pricks were laughable to what pain he had endured, before.
Tsaurau talked as he worked. "I know that you must have many questions. I am here to answer as many as possible. But first, I must voice a concern, about the weapon you have in your possession. I trust you will not use it on us."
"No, I will not use it, Tsaurau. It is for defense.”
"That is good. Remember that you are on probation. If we find you to be dangerous to the colony, we are required to terminate your presence."
"Terminate? Does this mean kill me?"
"Possibly, if it comes to that; but it will not come to that, Ryan. Please keep our perspective in mind at all times."
He missed a few of the words, but the meaning was clear. "Thanks for warning."
"We have seen the indeterminable complexity of human behavior." He hesitated a moment. "I would prefer you to surrender your weapon."
Ryan caught the gist of his request and did not like it. “I cannot give my weapon. I slave too long.”
Tsaurau's black eyes seemed to soften. "Yes, I understand completely. We will let the issue rest then."
Ryan gave an internal sigh of relief. He didn’t need a conflict with these people.
The alien dropped off the samples in the small compartment under the monitor. "Now, I will attempt to answer as many of your questions as possible." His tone carried a tinge more enthusiasm.
Ryan proceeded to barrage him with as many questions as he could think of. Hours flew by as they discussed everything from space travel to the Xeronian's knowledge of Earth. He enjoyed Tsaurau's company. The
Xeronians were a peaceful, content people and they were far superior in technology and scientific development than any other race he had met; yet, underlying all of it, there was something definitely wrong. They were not of this planet, which was obvious. All clues pointed to the fact that they were hiding: an underground colony, a desolate hellish planet in the remote edge of the galaxy. Ryan could not help but notice a subtle reservation Tsaurau exercised when he asked questions of their past.
It was the Xi-Empire. It has to be.
Tsaurau, it seemed, was a prominent figure in the colony. He was the leader of the lower council, which managed the operations of the colony and dealt with the day-to-day decisions to maintain their survival on this planet. All issues from power and life support to agriculture and medicine went through this council.
The upper council, or the Council of the Elders, was less defined in function given one exception: their judgment, once proclaimed, was law. The Elders were a select few of the oldest Xeronians of the colony and carried with them years of knowledge and experience. Their decisions were respected, although not always fully understood.
Their talk was cut short when Tsaurau announced that they were being summoned to the Council of the Elder's chambers. It was a strange proclamation. The Xeronian promptly turned and headed out, momentarily stopping at the exit to beckon him.
"Do not worry. We are prepared for you now. You can walk among us freely."
He glanced at his rifle. No, he would not bring it. The past few hours had solidified what the Xeronians’ intentions were. Hell, if they really wanted him dead, they could have killed him many times over by now.
Tsaurau kept a quick pace, as it was not considered proper to keep the Elders waiting. Ryan slowed as much as he dared, insatiably curious, marvelling at the architecture: bleached white corridors that seemed to travel for kilometers and finally disappear in a luminous haze, great hollowed rooms that served as parks with artificial suns embedded within distant ceilings, life of all kinds striving below, rooms of grand design merging into matrices of apartments and living quarters. He could see streams winding through ending at small ponds, which irrigated extraordinary gardens of flowering plants. Birds, much like Earth's, sang in harmonious chorus, and strange little animals scurried over the footpaths where other Xeronians leisurely strolled.
A Bellicose Dance Page 12