Prime Alpha (Planetary Powers Book 1)

by Joshua Boring

  Calico finally broke her defenses open long enough to nod. “Aye.”

  The captain turned back to the holding cell. The Stelkan was eyeing his area of captivity with the look of a creature who knew its time was limited. Nathen reached over and nudged Calico's elbow. She looked over, red bangs hanging over her eyebrows.

  “Tread lightly,” he said. “Follow his lead, and don't show any weakness.”

  Calico nodded and took a deep breath through her nostrils before lifting her helmet onto her head. In seconds, she was sealed in her armor once more, donning the persona of the Elite Stellar Commando. Her smooth helmet turned briefly in Nathen's direction, then faced the door to the holding cell. Captain Gordon took a moment to adjust the presentation of his black and red uniform, then nodded to Calico.

  “Ladies first,” he said with a thinly drawn grin.

  Calico stepped forward, lightly touching the door lever before grabbing it and twisting. The manual release hissed as the heavy security door disengaged. Inside the holding cell, the Stelkan twitched and looked up, avian eyes locking onto the door. Nathen stepped aside before the doors opened, positioning himself out of sight at the control board. The security door parted horizontally, lower half dropping into floor of the holding cell like a drawbridge. Calico stepped into the brightly-lit room and stopped a few paces in. The Stelkan stared, analyzing the stranger in mysterious red armor, while Nathen, behind the security portal, analyzed the prisoner. He tried to guess what it was thinking as it sized up the girl. Was it mystified by the apparel, or appalled that it was in the company of a Human girl? Reading a Stelkan's emotions when they tried to hide them was difficult at best. After a moment, letting the tension build, Calico walked across the room and stood with her back to the wall, lingering just within the Stelkan's peripheral vision. The Stelkan tracked her for a moment, but quickly refocused his eyes as Gordon Bryor stepped into the room.

  The captain strode toward the bubble, unhurried and unimpressed. Inside its small encasement, the Stelkan’s wings fluttered against their shackles, unable to do much but just sit on its shoulders. The alien shiftily scanned the Human that stood before it. As a trained corvette pilot, it surely recognized the red that signified a captain of the Humanity Space Navy. The black, though. Nathen could tell the black threw it off. That was not a standard color. Gordon stopped before the bubble and looked down, locking eyes with his enemy. After a moment, Gordon took a deep breath.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  The Stelkan said nothing. There was no translation. The avian reptilian shifted uncomfortably, acting disinterested. Gordon gave a subtle signal behind his back, and Nathen switched on the two-way translator. The computer went to ready mode, taking in the sounds again preparing to match any language patterns to its database. Gordon held his arms at his sides, continuing to stare down at the Stelkan.

  “Do you know who I am?” he repeated, voice threatening. At the tone, the Stelkan looked up. It may not have known the words, but it could perceive the question well enough. After another reassessing look the Stelkan lifted its hands, claws down in the Stelkan equivalent of a shrug. Gordon finally let his eyes break gaze and stared at the wall to his left, hands clasped loosely behind his back.

  “You will,” he said.

  The Stelkan remained silent as Gordon turned partway and motioned again. Nathen hesitantly reached down and disengaged the cell. The clear bubble split in the middle and clapped down into the floor, leaving the prisoner and interrogator sharing the same air. The Stelkan confusedly started to stand, but was suddenly pressed back down from behind. The scaly head turned, looking back into the red visor behind it. Calico had her hand locked against the shackles holding the wings back, and was using the leverage to keep the alien down. After a second, the Stelkan looked back to the captain. Gordon leaned down to the Stelkan's eye level.

  “Who are you?”

  Calico also leaned down and lightly whispered the question to the Stelkan in its dialect. The pilot seemed surprised to hear its own language spoken. Then it looked away and pretended not to hear.

  Gordon didn't react. He didn't even seem to notice its defiance. He straightened up and sighed, looking away.

  “I am not a wise man,” he spoke, casually. His words came slowly, so Calico could steadily translate them. “I have a tendency to make unfair judgments based on what I want to believe.”

  Gordon turned and took several slow strides away from his prisoner, hands clasped behind his back. He waited for Calico to produce his words in alien tongue before turning back.

  “I wanted to believe there could be peace between us,” he said, laxly striding back. “Right up until the moment the dog I was stroking reared back and savaged my hand.”

  Gordon lifted a hand for emphasis, curling his fingers into a fist.

  “I gave up everything for your kind,” Gordon said, eyes filling with dark clouds. “And I receive nothing but pain for my pains.”

  Gordon approached the Stelkan, whose eyes were growing wider with each shrill whisper and chirp Calico spoke into its ear. Gordon stood over the alien captive, arms held to his sides.

  “So that is the way it shall be from now on,” he said, heavily. “Pain for pain. So I ask you again.”

  There was a slight gasp of leather as Gordon slowly dragged his Karl 9 from the holster on his hip. He let the unique gun hang from his hand, pointed at the floor.

  “Do you know who I am?”

  The Stelkan's eyes darted to the pistol. Then its body trembled in sudden, shocking discomfort as it saw the golden Yew Alliance Peace Medallion wrapped around the rocket pistol's housing. The object of immunity the Yew granted only to select representatives of other races. The Stelkan started breathing faster like a biplane sputtering for takeoff. Finally, with a slight shimmer of its scales, the Stelkan hesitantly met Gordon's seething eyes and squawked one sharp, trilling note. The two-way translator in the security chamber blipped out a single word for Nathen to read.

  [Ambassador]

  Gordon let the Stelkan take a good, long look at his face. Slowly, intentionally, he lifted the Karl 9 and slid it back into his holster. The Alliance Medallion peeked out from under the top of the holster, glaring at the Yew.

  “Now,” Gordon said, folding his arms across his chest. “How did you know the location of my ship?”

  Calico relayed the question. The Stelkan quickly turned its claws down and shook its head. Gordon's posture tensed, but his face didn't change. Somehow, for the Stelkan, this was worse than being struck outright and it quickly squawked a defense that was too fast for the two way translator to keep up.

  “He says he doesn't know,” Calico said, straightening up. “He's just a corvette pilot.”

  “He's lying,” Gordon said, eyes never wavering from his prisoner. “Every ship large enough to dictate its own crew is linked into the Alliance War Band. When the call to mine our entry point went out, they were received, along with instructions. It’s in the Kastar's databanks.”

  Gordon straightened and took a slow breath, turning his head just far enough over his left shoulder so he could look in Nathen’s direction.

  “Tell him to lie again,” he ordered.

  Nathen straightened up in the operator's chair.

  Calico started to repeat the words, but she was cut off as the floor rattled. She backed away just as the security bubble clammed up around the Stelkan with a heavy clap! The Stelkan issued a startled wark! and reached out, touching the confines of its much smaller prison. Then its reptilian avian eyes went wide as it heard its precious air being slowly pumped out of the bubble.

  Nathen watched the Stelkan through the wall, slowly wringing the dial that controlled the atmosphere inside the spherical cell. Calico, body posed in shock, looked from Gordon to the security room where Nathen sat. Gordon never flinched, never showed any emotion as the Stelkan flung itself on the floor of its cramped bubble, wings bound uncomfortably behind it. Its chirps and warbles fell on deaf ears. All ex
cept for Calico. Nathen could tell at a glance she could understand every plea coming from the alien's throat. Soon all that was coming out of the Stelkan's beak were labored, shrill breaths.

  There, Nathen paused the atmosphere dial for a few seconds. There was still air in the bubble, just not much. He waited until he saw Gordon initiate a slight twitch, then slowly dialed the air back in. The Stelkan eventually sat up, dry heaving like it was coughing up a pellet. When the atmosphere was equalized, Nathen released the safety, splitting the cell open once more. Gordon took an abnormally long breath, as if savoring the air that the Stelkan had been deprived of momentarily. As if to say, “Air is a privilege.”

  “Again,” he said, once the alien had recovered most of its wind. “How did you know where my ship was?”

  The Stelkan looked up with angry eyes slit, spewing some sharp syllables. Nathen read the vulgar translation on the two-way. Then he slammed the bubble shut again. The Stelkan shrieked as Nathen turned the atmosphere dial the other way, piling on the pressure. The Stelkan screamed, feeling itself squeezed from every angle, writhing on the ground in agony. Gordon watched, drawing in every detail of the alien's misery. Memorizing it. A few seconds later, Nathen lowered the pressure to normal, splitting the bubble open again. Once the Stelkan's eyes stopped bulging, Gordon turned his nose up, glaring down at the prisoner.

  “Would you care to repeat that?”

  The Stelkan trembled, feeling both wrung out and inflated. It finally looked up, beak clicking in pain. Gordon gave it a look of utter seriousness.

  “Answer the question.”

  The Stelkan hesitated. Its eyes darted from the Captain to Calico, who was standing several feet away, uncertain how to act. It didn't say anything for several seconds. As far as Nathen was concerned, that was too long.

  Nathen dropped his palm on the safety switch and the clear bubble clammed up around the Yew with a heavy clap. The Stelkan screamed and threw itself against the bubble, singing Albiac so fast the two-way missed the middle bits. Gordon raised a hand to signal a halt, for visual emphasis. The Stelkan held its breath, unsure of what atmosphere it was about to be plunged into. Then, slowly, the bubble cracked open and retracted into the floor. The Stelkan tried to subtly crawl out of the ring, but with a word from Nathen over the ESC comm, Calico stepped in and—reluctantly—dragged it back. Her posture indicated she was uncomfortable with the situation. With a glare that could have been fearful or spiteful, the Stelkan smoothed the scales on its head and started to speak. A few seconds later, Calico looked up at the Captain.

  “He says they received orders over the War Band to blockade the equator over the starport.” More squawks from the Stelkan, punctuated by some throaty coughs. “They were also informed that a stealth ship was in the area.”

  “How?” was the only word Gordon said.

  The Stelkan trembled as it delivered its answer.

  “He doesn't know.”

  “Perhaps he's not receiving enough oxygen to the brain,” Gordon said, nonchalantly. “An inconvenience we can easily remedy.”

  The Stelkan, understanding the implications if not the words, went wide eyed and violently shook its head, trying desperately to gesture with its hands, unable to gesture with its wings. Calico looked stern.

  “If he doesn't know, then torturing him gains us nothing.”

  Gordon finally broke eye contact and looked sideways at Calico's red mask.

  “Ask him how they learned of our incursion.”

  Before Calico could say anything, the Stelkan chipped out a sentence. Calico paused, then looked at Gordon.

  “He says you can kill him now.” Calico shook her head. “He won't say anything else.”

  A cruel smile worked its way onto Gordon's stolid face. “Oh. I don't think we can kill him.”

  The Stelkan looked up as Gordon leaned forward.

  “I believe it was the Vorch who introduced the principles of prisoner treatment and handling to the Yew Alliance. That only the weak are captured, while the strong decide their own fate. That the captured must show their strength... through pain. They have a creed, I think.”

  Gordon turned his head and looked at Calico. “How does that proverb go?”

  At first, it looked as though Calico would say nothing. Then, speaking so the Stelkan could hear, she spoke a single, short phrase in Vor.

  “Sheethkal nal Hrath.”

  The two-way blipped, and Nathen looked down.

  [Privileged is Death.]

  The Stelkan looked terrified as the thought really struck home just how much he was at the mercy of these Humans. Gordon just stared, as if he could see straight through the Stelkan's skull and read its mind. Finally, after an intense internal struggle, the Stelkan broke. It issued a statement in broken Albiac, indicating it would co-operate. Gordon straightened up as Calico stepped in to translate. Nathen sighed, feeling like they were finally making progress as Gordon turned halfway to look toward the security room...

  Nathen felt a flash in the back of his mind. He looked up, eyes focusing on the prisoner.

  The prisoner's eyes were locked on Gordon's Karl 9.

  “Bryor!”

  Nathen's warning came not a second too soon. The Stelkan shrieked and shot forward, knocking Calico back on her heels with surprising speed. Gordon spun around fast, but not fast enough to keep the Stelkan from ripping the rocket pistol from his holster. The Captain, a look of pure, animal ferocity on his face, seized hold of his enemy as the Stelkan turned his own specialized gun on him.

  There was a muzzle flash and a resounding pound of a gunshot.

  Nathen didn't stay to see where the bullet went. He was out of the chair and on his feet in an instant, snatching his Denchura II from its holster and bolting for the security door. A little over-zealously, he rammed into it, rebounded, then scrambled for the manual switch as three more shots sounded in rapid succession. Nathen practically tore the switch off the wall. The door parted and Nathen lunged in, snapping his gun up and sighting on a target.

  The Stelkan was dead. Gordon stood over its body, his smoking Karl 9 pointed down where three large bloody stains were beginning to seep onto the floor. Calico stood off to the side, frozen in a half-posture with her hand hovering halfway to her own gun. But she hadn’t drawn. Nathen sighted on the Stelkan in case he needed to unload another quick round into it, but it was clear from the amount of blood pooling around him that the prisoner was never getting up again.

  Gordon swallowed a hot breath and turned toward Nathen, lifting his Karl 9 up next to his ear. The Alliance Medallion imbedded in the gun glinted as spattered blood sizzled against the warm weapon. Nathen turned to Calico. The red-armored girl looked at her commander, then unfroze herself, staring sheepishly at the ground. Nathen holstered his sidearm with a calm demeanor, but inwardly he was outraged.

  The door to the corridor practically burst open as Trent and Helen entered, Caspers up and searching. Nathen raised a hand, and the two Elite Stellar Commandos lowered their aim. With the room secured, Nathen turned to Gordon.

  “You alright?”

  Gordon looked down at the shining medallion on his gun, then growled in frustration and dropped his rocket pistol back into its holster.

  “Dazzling,” he said. “Just fine.”

  Nathen knelt next to the Stelkan and rolled it onto its side. The reptilian-avian stared sightlessly, a grainy film closed over its eyes. The three bullet wounds had torn its midriff to pieces. The Karl 9, while not a mass produced gun, was absolutely lethal. Gordon was lucky the first shot had only caught his uniform. Another inch and it would have been a gut shot.

  Nathen tried to breathe out his frustration as he reached down and pulled the Stelkan's eyes closed.

  “Calico, report to the armory for de-symbiosis. You're done.”

  Calico took a step forward. “But, I didn't do...”

  “You froze,” Nathen snapped over his shoulder. “And it could have cost someone his life. Go before...” Nathen stoppe
d himself, then groaned and shook his head. “Just go.”

  Calico stood there for a moment. Her right hand kept clenching in and out of a fist. Finally, she came to attention, then turned and marched out the door. Trent and Helen stood aside for her, neither saying a word. When the security doors closed, Helen slung her submachine gun over her shoulder and pulled off her purple helmet, setting her brunette hair free to roll down her back.

  “What a mess,” she said, shaking her head at the blood spreading on the floor. Trent kept his helmet on his head and his hand on his gun, but he gave an agreeing nod. Nathen stood and turned. Gordon released a breath, having apparently recovered some of his previous calm.

  “You needn't be so harsh on your people on my behalf, Commander,” he said, straightening his black and red uniform. “It wasn't the girl's mistake, it was mine.”

  Nathen gave Gordon a curious look. “If it had been me in there instead of her, do you think it would have gotten that far?”

  Gordon shook his head. “No.”

  “Then I'll be the judge,” Nathen concluded. He didn't want to be harsh on his newest member, but a mistake like that would have had deadly results if Gordon had been a second slower. With the war lurking on the horizon and the Elite Stellar Commandos on the playing field, failure wasn't an option, on any scale. It was Helen who finally broke his frustrated mood.

  “Boss, you're wound tighter than a crossbow,” she said with a pleasant grin. “You act sometimes as though you never brought anyone back alive.”

  “The co-commander's right,” Trent said from behind his helmet. “We've had a long day, and a Hell of a first mission. Yet we've barely taken time to breathe since we got back. We need to put our safeties on and just ease off the trigger before we all have a misfire.”

  Nathen nodded, hands on his hips and looking down at his loosely-laced boots.

  “You're right, you're right,” he said. “It’s just been a long day. But it’s over now.”

  Gordon shifted his stance and locked his arms behind his back.