A Bellicose Dance

by Patrick M J Lozon

  “Our image should reflect back as a gaseous anomaly,” commented Gem.

  “Well, we’ll know soon enough. Coming up on our first ship. Ready the tracing scanners, I need a full report.”

  Flying slowly, and shifting directions lazily in the process, he eased closer to the ship but stayed far enough away not to be noticed. With the first ship complete, he adjusted course to the next, taking time to avoid moving too quickly on their exit, and hiding within the dense rain clouds in transit.

  Tracing sensors revealed an unexpected surprise: signatures of humans in every ship. To make matters worse, it was impossible to determine which was Xabuntz II due to the opaque, yellowish air, which made a definitive visual inspection near impossible. He would have to land and visually inspect each ship on foot.

  “Well, Gem, which one first?”

  “Logic would dictate the nearest vessel.”

  “That’s your best guess?”

  Silence.

  “Well, it’s not like I have a better idea anyway.”

  He brought the Dancing Queen down a couple kilometers away from the slavership in order to avoid blasting open a clearing. The ship created a landing area through brute force, bearing down upon the foliage until branches snapped, stopping only once ship's legs finally came to rest upon the forest's thick loam.

  Ryan wasted no time preparing for the trip, putting on his armored suit and checking his weapons with involuntarily precision. His mind reeled with the local tactical status reports from Gem. He grabbed his blade on the way out. Or would prove a useful tool for cutting through the overgrowth.

  A Shawma aqueduct line, probably constructed before the Xi-Empire's occupation, ran tangent to the landing site. Its shores were no more than 100 meters from his ship - a perfect guide to the slaver as it would help him maintain his bearing in the dense fog.

  Ziggy intercepted him at the airlock and handed him a small black box.

  "What's this?"

  "A universal interface," replied Gem. "Clip it to your belt. When you get into the slavership, fasten it to the closest interface panel accessible to the main control core. I will use it to infiltrate the core's security systems and keep the bridge crew in the dark while you secure the ship. It is the least I can do."

  "Can it work standalone, in case you cannot establish a link?"

  "Yes. All programs have been downloaded to it. However, I do intend to establish a connection."

  "How many more can you make of these?"

  "Ziggy has already manufactured two. We will manufacture units for each vessel incursion."

  "Then give me both. You may need to access a security clearance panel."

  Giving Ziggy a nod, he moved out quickly, leaving the Dancing Queen secured under Gem's control.

  The forest floor reminded Ryan of Kalmaka. His feet sunk deep into the thick vegetation and muck, making the walk slow and arduous. The air was dense, too thick for the unaided eye to see. He had to constantly adjust the visual acuity on his helmet to compensate. Often he would have to cut a wide swath with his sword just to forge a path. He was quickly covered in sweat, as his suit fought to rid itself of the extra heat.

  The aqueduct appeared before him, a concrete-banked river more than 50 meters wide. Its waters surged by angrily, carrying with it debris ranging from small logs to whole trees. Upstream, the surging waters were tossing along a massive derelict - a long dead tree, pulled out by its roots, with thick limbs scraping along the concrete bank.

  Vibrations carried through his feet as the immense carcass washed past. Ryan stepped back quickly in order to avoid a stray branch that reached out for him menacingly.

  The green water raced by with an unyielding power, a fabricated river barely contained. Something upstream had to be dreadfully wrong. Perhaps a dam had given away? The original engineers were no longer present to do the repairs. How long had the Showmish been conquered?

  Ryan eyed the river warily, tossing a large stone into the raging murky surface. He must be careful not to slip - to fall into such water spelt death. He started up the shoreline toward the camp, covering the clear ground with a quick jog. The slavership sat fat and rudely, under the canopy and adjacent the river. Its scarred twin towers loomed far above him as blurry silhouettes in the thick yellow fog.

  Confident he was still far enough away from the immense vessel to be relatively safe, he searched out a tall tree to provide a vantage point to inspect the whole area. The climb left him breathless and his mouth dry.

  He should have filled the suit’s water jackets, damn it!

  Pulling a large dripping leaf away, he scanned the area. He could make out a view that alternated under lazy, shifting clouds that refracted dense and light patches. From this vantage, the ship was only partially visible. His helmet's magnification did its best to cut through the haze, but it was fruitless. There were no markings on this ship's hull, at least none that he could find.

  Movement from below caught his eye. They were Showmish, walking in a long line, moving slowly. Slavers, dozens of them, accompanied the hostages. Whips sang in the moist air, followed by hoarse growls and Xilozak curses. Ryan gritted his teeth, fighting down a familiar rage.

  He checked the ship again. His visor magnification cut through the haze enough to expose a large assembly of Showmish collected at the base of one of the many ship’s cargo bay ramps. The newly captured slaves trudged slowly up and into the ship. He estimated the numbers to be in the thousands.

  But how could he help them? He had to find her and time was running out.

  "Gem, it's the wrong ship. I'm pulling back."

  It seemed to take forever to get back to the Queen. He was beginning to feel panic. Any one of these slaverships could take off at any time.

  He had to move faster. He had to find her.

  Gem reacted instinctively, putting the ship in motion before he had reached the top of the ramp. They moved onto the next ship. This one, as with the one before, did not bear the markings.

  They moved again, dropping the Dancing Queen in a small clearing. He headed out quickly, avoiding his usual perimeter checks. He didn't notice the slaver guard approaching until he was practically on top of him. A lone Txtian on patrol had decided to stray from his usual path and take a stroll through the forest. Had his reaction been slightly quicker, Ryan would surely have been dead. But the Earthman's response was a conditioned reflex, ground into him by an unmerciful schedule of training. His rifle blasted in his hands, although he didn't recall taking aim, and the shot struck home, cutting the alien neatly in two.

  “That was close, Captain,” Gem commented.

  He was becoming careless, and that wouldn't do. He was too close, too close to finding her. Not waiting for another guard to appear, he started running back to the ship. This planet was reminding him too much of Kalmaka. Years of suffering swarmed through his mind.

  "Gem, it’s not the right ship, either."

  Ryan arrived at the Queen, out of breath. He scrambled up the ramp as she rose from the surface and started skimming over the treetops, heading toward the next ship. They made a temporary diversion off course to give a wide berth to a Xi-Empire camp.

  "OK, we're as close as we can get. Look for a good landing spot and put her down."

  Ryan dashed for the airlock, only to wait impatiently for the ship to land. Before the ramp touched the soil, he was in the forest, making a beeline for the slaver. The run was short, but he arrived out of breath and sweating from the intense sprint.

  This was starting to wear on him.

  His suit constantly worked overtime attempting to moderate the internal temperature. Ryan felt like tearing it off and running free, to feel the air upon his skin, but that would be foolish. He hadn’t had time to study the atmosphere or the local flora. A brush against the wrong plant could easily poison or kill him.

  Damn it. He didn’t have a suit for her. Better to not get ahead of yourself. She might not be here either.

  The slaver was p
arked in an expansive clearing. Its back raised high above the treetops like an ancient prehistoric predator. Its dark massive shape appeared and disappeared behind drifting clouds of murky fog.

  The clearing worried Ryan. The varying fog cover made an approach foolhardy. Adjusting his visor, he scanned the ship for identification. Again, nothing evident on the hull. Maybe it wasn't common practice to mark a slaver's hull. But this was the ship - it had to be. He moved around the perimeter, staying in the underbrush, careful not to disturb the vegetation around him. Then he saw it, standing out clearly in bold white Xilozak letters on a scarred and blackened hull.

  He read it twice, fighting disbelief, the letters were clear: Xabuntz II.

  He fell to his knees, tears welling in his eyes.

  “Captain, are you alright?”

  “Give me a minute. I’m OK.”

  His senses sharpened up. ”I ah… It’s our ship. The one we were looking for.”

  “Very good. As you expected, Captain.”

  “Yes, as I expected.”

  "I've picked up a sketchy tracing image. I suspect it's a ground vehicle moving towards the ship."

  "What direction?"

  "262 degrees from your perspective."

  "What's the E.T.A?"

  "Approximately three minutes, given current speed."

  Ryan scanned the area and spotted an opening at the edge of the clearing - a makeshift road. The rover would be coming from there. He headed for it as quickly as he could without compromising his cover, emerging from the underbrush in time to spot vehicle lights dancing down the road. He stood at the apex of a sharp turn, where the road wound its way out of the forest and into the clearing.

  He should be all but invisible from this spot, hidden by thick underbrush within the pasty fog. The image of the rover was becoming sharper, although still blurred behind the mass of yellow gaseous air and hidden behind the glare of the lights. The rover was heading toward him at a fairly good clip. Passengers on the top deck were doing their best to accommodate for the bumpy ride.

  He stepped back into the underbrush and waited. Droplets of condensation crawled down his visor, leaving wet streaks behind, like the trails left by snails over a piece of glass.

  The throb of a powerful engine carried through the air in a rude announcement. The rover passed by, a wall of shiny metal and monstrous tires. It slowed for the oncoming curve. Ryan sprang, grabbing at a rear handrail, and missed. He ran, grabbed again, this time taking a firm hold. In one massive effort, he pulled himself up the rail. The rover had already negotiated the curve and was accelerating. The ground below passed by in a blur.

  Above him, shadows of movement. Showmish faces looked down at him, but only briefly. Ever so subtly they crowded together, tightly, blocking the guard's view. Ryan had less than a minute to get down below the rover, behind the cover of the gigantic wheels. Alternating, one hand at a time, he lowered himself, attempting to keep his legs from dragging on the moving ground. Reaching under the belly of the immense vehicle, his fingers found a solid hold. With a deep intake of breath he swung down, flipping over, his back facing below, free arm dangling. The strain on his other arm burned like fire. His lungs felt ready to burst. Muscles shaking, he had only moments to search out another grip with his free hand. He felt a length of pipe and grabbed. His heels dragged along the road’s rough surface, bouncing painfully, feeling every protrusion. With intense determination he freed his strained hand, searching again for another hold, inching his way between the wheels. He was relieved to find a line looped down below the undercarriage. He threw up his leg, catching it, then he threw up the other leg. Finally, he was off the ground.

  Every muscle in his body was burning, fighting to stay rigid.

  Minutes passed by painfully, each bounce threatening to throw him off.

  But it wasn’t long before the machine finally ground to a halt, its engine dying to silence. Guards from the ship ambled toward the rover, red stained whips dragging on the ground.

  Ryan could only catch a portion of the picture through a crack between the tires, but he could hear it all too clearly. Familiar sounds, the snapping of electrified whips, the shrill, desperate cries of pain. Ryan pulled himself closer to the rover's belly, ignoring his quivering muscles. He had little time, as his arms were taxed to the limits of exertion. He closed his eyes and waited, fending off mental playbacks of times not so long ago. Across from him, legs moved with no attached faces, many shuffling, others limping, an endless stream of Showmish.

  Every second felt like a minute. Every minute an hour. How much longer?

  The rover roared to life. Its gigantic wheels spun as the driver jammed the multiple differentials into gear. It rolled in a slow circle around the ship, away from the busy cargo loading areas and to the side of the ship that was quiet, with no guards. Making a quick decision, he freed his legs and let go. Falling to the hard ground with a painful thud, he lay still, watching the metal frame of the rover dissolve into the yellow fog as the vehicle drove on.

  His arms felt like rubber. For a moment, he just rested and listened. There were no sounds, no movement around him. He was lying in a shallow trench created by a rover’s enormous tires.

  There was nothing but the stillness of the slowly drifting fog.

  He slowly rolled toward the ship, falling into one rut and then another, eventually coming to a stop at the base of one of the ship’s colossal legs. Rising up to a crouch, he scanned the surroundings. A maintenance hatch was open above with a ladder extending down, no more than a yard away - an opportunity too good to be missed. He went up it like a cat, his tensed muscles loosening with each movement. A guard, unlucky enough to start down the ladder at the same time Ryan was going up, fell victim to a lethal jab of his disruptor sword. Ryan threw his body down, continuing up the ladder using every other rung. In a second he was in the airlock, its hatch closed and secured behind him.

  He moved through the ship quickly and came upon two more Xilozaks. They wore uniforms indicating they were part of the crew - not common slaver guards. Their rank did not save them from Ryan's blaster, which had no prejudice. He pulled them into a nearby room and closed the door behind him. A Xilozak lay sleeping, unaware of his entrance. Ryan employed his sword, piercing the alien through both his hearts.

  He looked for a core panel and found one on a retractable pedestal that rose off the floor, probably the Xilozak's study center. Unclipping the small box from his belt, he laid it on top the glass-smooth panel and pressed the single recessed button on the unit. Small spider legs appeared from underneath and it crawled across the panel to the upper left corner. With a puckered kiss it sucked itself onto the panel and again sat motionless.

  "I've activated the unit - anything?"

  "Yes, link established. It may take a few minutes to bypass the security blocks."

  "Not a problem. Standby for a tracing relay."

  Ryan unclipped another small box from his belt. He gave the portable tracing unit a slow wave in a long arc above him, intending a full scan of the upper decks.

  "Gem, you get that? Can you locate the humans?"

  "Yes, four on deck three and one on deck two."

  "That's it?"

  "Yes. I have not been able to locate any others. There are 14 crew on your level. A party of four is approaching your position now."

  "Thanks."

  He readied his rifle. The four passed by. He could hear them joking and laughing vigorously. Ryan stepped into the corridor behind them and blasted all four. The laughing stopped abruptly.

  “So far, so good, 10 more to go. Where are they?"

  "Within the cafeteria," replied Gem.

  A mental image appeared in his mind, the schematics of the ship.

  Now that’s handy.

  Using the new information he traveled through the maze of corridors directly to the kitchen, killing the unsuspecting cook in the process. He peered into the cafeteria. Six Txtians and three Xilozaks seated around various tables
, some engaged in conversations, others actively gorging themselves. All of them were armed.

  He knew he couldn't kill them all before at least one managed to retaliate. The cafeteria's ceiling provided him with another idea. It was a maze of pipes and conduits.

  "Gem, can you verify that the secondary coolant lines go through there."

  "Yes, the secondary circuit should be represented by a large yellow colored line."

  "Umm, they're all yellow - just different hues of yellow."

  "Look for a large diameter line, it’s a very dark yellow."

  "I see it." Pushing the door slightly ajar, he perched his rifle through the crack taking careful aim at his target. He squeezed off a blast and yanked the door shut. Within the cafeteria the ruptured line spewed out superheated gas, filling the room within seconds. They didn't have a chance. Ryan's battle helmet status display showed the air intake had automatically switched to internal storage. Gas was seeping in through an adjoining door.

  "Gem, I need to get all the hatches closed and locked, and I need that leak alarm taken care of."

  "I expect to have control of all ship’s systems within 5 seconds. I have access to internal tracings."

  "How many crew left on the ship?"

  "There are 12 at present. Two on level five below you, two on level three, one on level two, and seven on the bridge."

  "Notify me if any of them move. I'm going up to level three."

  He crawled up the maintenance tube and found two Xilozaks playing some kind of game in front of the corridor where the humans were kept. He crept up as silently as possible. One of them hammered his fist on the small table and yelled at his partner that he was cheating. They both stood up ready to fight each other. Ryan interrupted, his blaster leveled at them.

  "You both lose," he said icily.

  They scrambled clumsily for their weapons, but neither succeeded. Ryan stepped over their bodies and opened the door. The room was dimly lit and littered with excrement. His suit was still on internal supply, but he could only imagine the foul odors. Huddled in the corner were four humans. They watched him intently. One woman and three men, but she wasn't there. Ryan backed out, leaving the hatch ajar.