The Blockade

by Jean Johnson

  Salik physiology required reversing the chair, as their “buttocks” faced forward thanks to their thighs and knees angling backwards. The prisoner, clad in a loose beige uniform, shuffled into the room. The guards seated him in the backwards-facing chair with his leg shackles chained to the floor so that he could not leap up and pounce on anyone, nor use his powerful leg muscles to attack and try to get free.

  Those yellow-irised eyes swiveled, looking around the room this way and that, independent of each other. They finally focused forward on Jackie, Li’eth, and Darian. He blinked, nictitating membranes sweeping over his largish corneas, and spoke. “Hhhew . . . Princssse? Imperriall Princsse? Hhew honor me. May I hhave your blood-organn?”

  (Easy,) Jackie soothed her tight-faced partner. She spoke, snagging the alien’s attention. “Per the Articles of War governing Terran use of psychic interrogation techniques, I do not have to ask a known enemy soldier permission to scan your uppermost thoughts. However . . . what I seek is not in your uppermost thoughts. The rules of being a psychic therefore require that I ask the following question: Will you agree to cooperate in teaching me your language?”

  He blinked twice, eyes swiveling. Broad mouth opening, he hesitated, then said, “Hhew wishh to learnnn Sssalhashh? Fromm me?”

  “Yes. Do you agree to cooperate?” she asked.

  He smacked his lips in an odd pwok pwok pwok sound that had Li’eth and the quartet of Solarican guards in the room stiffening, then bared his teeth in something that was definitely not a smile. Not with that many sharp, pointed, flesh-tearing incisors. “Yesss . . .”

  (He thinks this will take weeks and months, and waste our time with this pointless interrogation,) Darian stated. (To speed things up, I suggest we do this jointly, as if we were doing a teaching session on language transfer. But not actually teach anyone.)

  (Li’eth, are you comfortable with Darian and I sharing thoughts that closely?) Jackie asked her partner.

  (I am . . . and I appreciate the courtesy of your asking,) he added.

  (A nonentangled Gestalt of two minds will be more intimate than one made up of many,) she explained. (It might upset you.)

  (I think you’ll find that what you’re about to learn from the enemy will be more disturbing,) he countered.

  “. . . Welll?” the Salik prisoner asked. “What wordss do hhew wish to lllearn firsst?”

  Rising from their seats, Jackie and Darian each lifted those chairs and carried them down one side of the rectangular table. There, they set the chairs down, each one facing the backwards-sitting alien. Sharing a bracing look, they sat and linked one pair of hands behind the alien’s head, merging shields and entwining minds.

  Jackie, being the stronger and more experienced linguist, took the dominant position. Darian, being less likely to dive deeply into the alien’s mind, took on the position of brakeman, ready to haul her back if things went wrong.

  “I need you to think about your education days,” Jackie stated, while the Salik looked at her, at the guards, and at Li’eth still seated at the far end of the table.

  “Educasshtionn?” the Salik asked, eyestalks swiveling to stare at each of their faces.

  “Yes. Think of a day when you were being schooled in how to add and subtract simple numbers,” Jackie directed.

  She felt him hesitate, then shrug and focus. Together, she and Darian touched their free hands to the alien’s head, away from those sharp teeth. For a moment, they received feedback sensations of awful stick-flesh touching his cheeks, then Jackie forcefully pushed on the alien’s mind, making him remember numbers, classroom, teaching, mathematics, twelve plus twelve equaling twenty-four, five minus three making two.

  His mind bucked under theirs, trying to escape the compulsions to think, but together, they were stronger. Together, they chased down all words for numbers, for writing stylus, for computer and desk and chair, classmates. Learning from an alien mind, they had decided privately, was best done with concrete things that were relatable to every sentient species, and that started with an education in math, in the purest and least emotionally clouded of the sciences, the most easily relatable and translatable of subjects.

  Abstract things like numbers and concrete things like physical objects were the easiest. Adjectives were a little awkward, because Salik eyes did not perceive colors and depths the same way as Human ones. Both psis shied away from exchanging tastes and flavors, from examining mealtimes too closely though they had to learn such things, had to know for being able to decode prisoner plans and manifests. Three times as the minutes stretched into hours, they both broke off to gag, swallow, breathe, and steel themselves to go back in again. To try to learn the Salik language and the Salik mind-set, so that they could pick out orders and translate them into V’Dan, or Terranglo, whatever it took.

  The only advantages were that they had each other to lean upon. To band together their strength. To suffer alongside and thus bolster each other’s flagging determination with silent, deep sympathy and horrified empathy. Salik did not think like Humans, deep down inside. Not normal ones. Darian had it easier than Jackie, however. He had served as a judicial psi before going into the military. He had touched the minds of sociopaths, even psychopaths . . . and this Salik definitely qualified.

  Everyone was either a potential predator or potential prey. There were plenty of alliances, but few actual friendships. Even their own kind could be viewed as someone to be eaten if given a chance. They had rules about such things, only allowed in certain circumstances, under certain conditions—on else they would never have evolved far enough to actually get the technologies needed to reach interstellar space—but ingrained in their psyches was the rather blunt, rather brutal eat or be eaten, hunt or be hunted that lay at the foundation of how they viewed life, the universe, and everything.

  It was not a pleasant experience.

  At the end of the hours-long interrogation, after at least three pauses to try to control the urge to vomit over some of the things the two learned, at the end of an increasingly grueling five hours of hard effort . . . it finally ended. They could not speak almost half of the language, but both Terrans knew Sallhash. Could listen to it, understand it, read it, write it . . . and thus translate it.

  Darian tipped the alien’s mind into sleep, parted his mind from Jackie’s, and slumped back in his seat. Jackie could not relax. Grey minds were more alien than this Salik’s mind had been, with far fewer reference points she could grasp. Particularly when it had been done in a hurry at a distance with a race whose mind screamed in pain the few times she had tried. But the Salik’s mind . . .

  Brutal.

  An intercom snapped to life, bringing with it the voice of War Prince Naguarr. “Is it donne? Orr are you illl againn?”

  “It is done,” Jackie replied in Solarican. She had to do it in Solarican. The felinoid language had been far gentler to learn, and at the moment was not associated with all the subcontexts that had come across with Sallhash. Subcontexts that had been attached to her native Terranglo as her base reference point. “We have the language, now.”

  He switched to his native tongue. “You said this llanguage trrransfer would teach the subject your tongue. Terrranglo. Does he knnow it nnow?”

  “He does,” Jackie said, too tired, too mind-weary to think about her confirmation.

  “Serrrgeant Parr Teing. Execute the prrrisoner.”

  A white-and-cream-furred Solarican soldier stepped forward, drew a pistol, and placed it against the top of the Salik’s head, near the base of an eyestalk. Too late, her eyes snapped wide. The warrior pulled the trigger; a flare of light and smoke sizzled up from the prisoner’s head. She yelped, hands clapping over her mouth in her shock, heart pounding. The stench of burned organics reached her nose, fat and meat and bone. Gagging, Jackie shoved out of her chair and moved quickly away, not wanting to look at the alien that had been slain in cold blood.r />
  “You arrre a diplomat, Grrrand High Ambassadorr,” the War Prince stated from the other side of the comm unit. “You are genntle in naturrre. This is good. We need gentlenness to advannce as civilized beinngs. But the rrrisk of his escaping and teaching others this . . . code-talk of yourrrs is too high.”

  “I know that!” she asserted in V’Dan, dropping her hands from her mouth and fisting them at her sides. “I know that. I am a soldier. But it is still one thing to kill in the heat of battle, in the immediate and clear need for self-defense. It is another thing entirely to execute someone!”

  “This is my burrden, nnot yours,” he reminded her, switching languages as well. “You knnnow it is necessarrry.”

  “I know. I don’t like it, but I do know.” Reluctantly, she forced herself away from the wall, to look back at the prisoner. At the body slumped in its chair. Darian had moved away as well, closer to the side with the charred, still-slightly-smoking hole in that lump of a skull. Trying not to breathe too deeply, Jackie firmed her mind once more, this time against a horror not created by an enemy race. “Darian and I will need to rest and sleep . . . if we can . . . before we will be able to interrogate the remaining sixteen.”

  “You have beenn invited to stay in ourr officerr suites,” the War Prince stated through the intercom. “Sergeant Naurren. Please show ourr guests everrry courtesy available.”

  Nodding, one of the other three Solarican guards moved toward the door, opening it for the three Humans to exit. Grateful the War Prince had not picked the Salik’s executioner to be their guide, Jackie left the interrogation room. The stench and the memories were not pleasant, and all she wanted was the sweet oblivion of sleep. If her mind would let her. Nightmares were a real possibility, while her brain tried to sort through everything it had just experienced.

  CHAPTER 10

  OCTOBER 24, 2287 C.E.

  JUNA 15, 9508 V.D.S.

  “. . . And now that everyone is at their presumed thinnest and weakest in defensive coverage across all systems, the Salik are finally ready to invade in full force,” Jackie translated, speaking in Terranglo. She had her eyes closed, couldn’t see the interrogation room around her. A different room, physically, though it looked pretty much the same as the last save for the mirrored window being on the other side. “Darian says Au’aurrran is part of a concerted effort to take over the Solarican worlds first. They want Solarican knowledge of other parts of the galaxy, other forms of technology, and are hoping that their—your—Queen will cut off this pocket of her empire, writing it off as a loss rather than attempt to regain control of it.

  “It is acknowledged by the Salik High Command as a gamble since the Solaricans have unknown numbers of ships they could bring in from other colonial pockets. However, the Salik believe the lack of visits, the lack of sharing of other technologies with the local pocket of the known galaxy, is an indication that they are weak overall. That the Solaricans do not have enough resources to be shifted around.

  “The Salik also know that the journey from colony to homeworld, just one way, is exceptionally long and difficult, exceptionally costly, and the Salik High Command therefore believes they will have enough time to find datafiles on nonlocal technologies and escape with advantages to combat the influx of oddities we Terrans have brought to the war. If they are attacked by extra Solarican forces, they will wage a war of attrition, allowing those colonies to be retaken but at such a cost that the Queen would be reluctant to add her remaining forces to the aid of the rest of the Alliance.”

  Jackie spoke in Terranglo to keep the Salik High General from understanding what Darian extracted from his mind. She also spoke in Terranglo because recordings of this session were being broadcast up to the Embassy 1 in orbit, which had survived the other day’s orbital invasion with minimal damage. No one wanted any of it broadcast in V’Dan, not even on the military channels, for fear of any Salik catching the signal and decoding it.

  In the observation lounge to the right of the interrogation room, she knew Li’eth translated everything she said into V’Dan for the War Prince, the V’Dan General assigned to coordinate his people’s forces with the Solarican government, and other observers. He spoke now into his side of the intercom, also using Terranglo. “Do they know about Terran communications systems?”

  Jackie relayed that to Darian, who had tranced deeply to be able to read the High General’s mind. They were taking turns going deep into the alien’s memories, so that neither had to endure the ice-brutal thoughts of the high-ranked officer for ungodly long stretches.

  (. . . Yes. They know of it by now at the highest levels of command and are exceptionally frustrated that they cannot even approach one of the comm satellites without their ships’ being damaged beyond repair, if not outright destroyed by the force of the blasts. They want our munitions technology with a hunger that is making me ill.)

  (Five more minutes,) she promised, checking the watch on her wrist unit. (Then it’ll be my turn to take over.) Switching to speaking verbally, she relayed what he told her, adding in more as he picked them out of the High General’s slimy, frustrated mind. Hearing Darian breathe in sharply, she asked, (Does he know what we’re doing to him?)

  (I think he’s beginning to get a clue,) Darian stated. (He certainly is frustrated that he’s thinking about all of his people’s plans. I’m having a harder time keeping him on topic. I should be able to get four more minutes though this may be my last round. You’re the stronger xenopath by far.)

  (You’re stronger at tolerating what you read,) she replied. (We each have our strengths and weaknesses.)

  One of the Solaricans had politely cleaned up the floor-spattered mess of her weakness earlier. The ventilation system had kindly cleared the smell from the room half an hour ago.

  “And you’re sure the timetable schedule you listed is accurate?” Li’eth asked through the intercom. He could have communicated directly with her mind, but for politeness’ sake chose to speak verbally, so that everyone knew which questions were being asked and how they were being asked, to give her and Darian’s answers their full context.

  She relayed that to Darian, too deep in the Salik’s mind to hear anything physically.

  (Pretty sure. And . . . yeah, he knows we’re behind his thought somehow. He just tried to shift the schedule he memorized to try to cast doubt on it. He’s fighting me hard, now. It’s only a matter of time before he starts throwing offensive thoughts at me. Images of him eating sentients, gore and death on a hunt . . . or even just annoying advertising jingles,) Darian added, struggling to inject a touch of levity into their grim task.

  Out loud, she said, “We’re quite sure the original information is correct . . . but the subject is now aware of our telepathic efforts. He is fighting the interrogation and trying to construct false thoughts.”

  Silence reigned for a long moment before Li’eth spoke again. “Are you willing to interrogate in equal depth a second, lesser-ranked subject? I cannot fault our allies for wanting confirmation of these timetables.”

  Relaying that to Darian, Jackie consulted in subthoughts on each of their energy levels, then nodded. “. . . So long as it’s more focused on timetables and such, we should have enough energy to complete that task. At least one more prisoner today, possibly two, and at least two tomorrow. These Salik . . . they have zero mental walls, zero capacity that I’ve seen to create a psychic shield. They cannot block us out, cannot force us to expend energy just to get at their minds, and don’t seem to realize we are invading their thoughts and prodding their memories for the first hour or so. So long as they are kept isolated from each other, that is.”

  “. . . His Highness indicates his soldiers are working under pain of a full-body shaving if they so much as hint to any of the prisoners what is actually going on,” Li’eth relayed, humor leavening his tone just a little. “Apparently such a thing is maddeningly itchy when the fur starts growing bac
k, and a very strong yet nondamaging punishment for any failure. He states the prisoners are not being housed even within shouting distance of each other.”

  “That is a relief to hear,” she acknowledged. “Are we done with this prisoner?”

  “. . . You said they think the various nations are sufficiently weak. Do they know about the V’Dan ships tied up with transporting Terran troops?”

  She relayed that to the other xenopath. Gritting his mental teeth in disgust at having to continue one more time, Darian managed to prod out the truth on that question. (. . . No. They honestly think the V’Dan are down three dozen of their biggest warships, probably taken out by Salik warships that just haven’t reported back in yet. He believes it because the V’Dan have called upon their Alliance friends and merchant reserve vessels to fill in the gaps, and filled in the corners with ‘those annoying silver sting-flyers’ which are his mental-image-nickname for our OTL ships . . . though he now feels some doubt about that simply because I’ve made him think about it. If I weren’t ethical, I could seriously turn him paranoid at this point.)

  (Good thing you are, because we are both due for an ethics review this month.) She relayed back to Li’eth the parts about the Salik ignorance of those missing warships.

  Another pause, then, “Thank you. And yes. War Prince Naguarr confirms we are done.”

  (Thank God,) Darian muttered as soon as she relayed that, easing his way back out of the Salik’s mind. (I need to go bleach my brain now.)

  (You and me both. We’ll have another one to interrogate after a break, though.) Switching to V’Dan, she addressed the blinking, shuddering High General, released from her and Darian’s mental control. “Thank you, High General, for your cooperation. Sergeants, we are finished with him. You may take the prisoner back to his holding cell now.”

  Rising, she and Darian moved themselves and their chairs away from the Salik, letting the Solarican soldiers handle the alien’s heavy shackles and chains.