“It is a long story. I am the one who brought him in twelve years ago,” he said emphatically.
“Really? And he remembered your name after twelve years?”
“There is more to the story." But the Captain didn’t seem in the mood to talk anymore.
“Please indulge me. Looks like we have plenty of time. What did he do?”
“A proud Monack, Tomar is very intelligent and brave." Surprisingly, there seemed to be great respect for the Monack in the Captain’s words. “He challenged and killed every dominant male in his tribe in honorable combat, giving them a chance to fight back and reclaim the leadership he’d taken. Of course, as the strongest, he won.”
“That’s not why he remembers you, though, is it?"
“No." The Captain smiled. “Tomar escaped as we were taking him to the transport for Zurin Five."
“Really?" Rhonda wondered about the shift in the Captain’s attitude since this morning. Why hadn’t he mentioned the Monack in their previous conversations on the subject of escapes? “How did he fool you of all people?”
The Captain snickered as if he didn’t want to tell her then smiled. He decidedly behaved in a strangely agreeable manner. “Tomar overpowered two guards then killed them and ran away. We chased him for three days all over his home planet, but he kept changing shape, so we never knew who or what to look for.”
“What happened?”
“He would have eluded us if a member of his tribe hadn’t betrayed him." Was it anger in the Captain’s words?
“Another shape-shifter sold him out?”
“Tomar had enemies. I still do not understand why his people had him sequestered. The loss of lives was a small price to pay to preserve the Old Way, the true way, where one ruled through strength alone.”
Shocked, Rhonda didn’t know what to think. “How did you finally catch him?”
“The traitor was a female, one of Tomar’s wives. Monacks can recognize each other even in different shapes and she recognized him. We... Unlike humans, Monacks have a very sharp sense of smell.”
Had he said ‘we?’ A terrifying thought came to Rhonda’s mind, but if what she suspected was right, she had to keep on pretending. “His wife must have wanted him caught really bad.”
The Captain seemed to relish the conversation. “His wife didn’t understand why he killed every male who challenged his authority, even his own son.”
“His own son? Neither would I." Rhonda glanced at the Captain, looking for one more clue to confirm her terrifying suspicions.
“Tomar really didn’t break any law according to the ancient Monack code. He still values the old ways of his people, and only acted as he should. He is not a criminal and doesn’t belong here.”
The last comment verified Rhonda’s worst fears. Even if he had lost his sanity, the Captain would never say that. “How many people did Tomar kill?”
“Over two hundred.”
Rhonda had to refrain from reacting. It was so shocking that she fell silent. The horrendous reality imposed itself on Rhonda’s mind. This was not the Captain. And since he looked and sounded like him, it could only be a shape-shifter. But a shape-shifter couldn’t mimic the Captain’s DNA, and here came the final test as they reached the stairwell door.
When the Captain raised his hand to press it to the scanner, Rhonda noticed fresh blood on his fingers. She laid her hand on her side of the door and motioned to his hand. “You are bleeding. Did the convicts hurt you?”
As the door chimed, in acceptance of both guards’ DNA, the Captain shook his head. “I had to kill someone to escape. Must be his blood. Why don’t you enter the code yourself?”
Stunned that the scanner had accepted the Captain’s DNA, Rhonda wondered about the blood. Her mind reeled as she realized with horror that it had to be Cole Riggeur’s blood on the shape-shifter’s hand. Her Captain would be wounded, severely wounded maybe, but she refused to assume the worst.
The pretender, however, had given Rhonda one more reason to doubt his identity. She did not have the code to open the door, and the real Captain knew it. Now it all made sense. Besides, a perfectly groomed Captain wouldn’t keep blood on his hands, and a bloody kill would have stained his uniform. Didn’t the creature just mention earlier that shape-shifters couldn’t reproduce scent?
As he brushed past her, Rhonda sniffed him discreetly. He smelled sickeningly sweet, and something else she couldn’t identify. No trace of the mossy fragrance that had permeated the Captain’s body this morning. Even after freshening up, he couldn’t have erased that scent. The smell would still cling to the uniform. So much for the human’s impaired sense of smell.
Rhonda forced a casual smile. “While I open the door, make sure we do not get disturbed. Go watch for those thugs.”
The strange Captain did not move. “Let me observe you to make sure you have the code right.”
Rhonda waved him away. “You can watch once we are inside the stairwell, when I open the next door. It will be safer. Right now I need you to keep your eyes on the corridor and on your compad." As he still didn’t move, she added with authority, “Go on! I need to concentrate.”
“Right." Reluctantly, the fake Captain walked a few steps away and pored over his compad.
The only physical fool-proof way for Rhonda to confirm that this man wasn’t her Captain was to use her exhausted com pad. She turned her back to her strange companion and covered the door security panel with her body then she discreetly took out her com pad and turned it on. The device flickered and Rhonda could see the blue dot of Captain Riggeur at the opposite end of the floor, among the rioters. The dot next to her pulsed red. Definitely a shape-shifter!
Cold sweat moistened her palms and fear threatened to paralyze Rhonda, but she took a calming breath as she discreetly hung the compad back on her belt. She had to deal with this situation intelligently. Monacks were quick and deadly. She may not be able to kill him by surprise, so she must use her brain and beat him at his own game.
“Captain, the door is stuck. The security code doesn’t work.”
“Are you sure?”
“Certain. Must be the tremors. It’s stuck just like the elevator doors. We have to try another stairwell.”
“All right." The impostor consulted his compad. “This way.”
Captain Riggeur would never trust her and would have insisted to try the code himself. Rhonda concluded that the Monack hadn’t discovered the code in the Captain’s compad and subtly attempted to get it from her. As long as he believed she had the code, she could lead him on.
As she followed the impostor through the labyrinth of cell-lined corridors, Rhonda felt tempted to shoot him in the back. Did she have time to draw her phaser and set it on kill before he heard it and reacted to her move? Rhonda pondered that, if the Monack didn’t understand the relationship between Rhonda and her Captain, she could also play that card to get rid of him and escape, but how?
First, she must get the Captain’s compad away from the shape-shifter. She needed that working compad, it contained the lockdown code. Besides, if she didn’t get it back, the Monack and his goons could find her wherever she fled.
Could she switch the compads? Give the imposter the useless pad that would only last a few minutes and appropriate the one in perfect working order? How would she manage to do it without arousing suspicion? It seemed too risky. If the Monack suspected she had unmasked him, she would be powerless against his superior skills and strength.
Still, Rhonda had to make a decision before they reached the next set of stairs. Resolutely, she drew her phaser and set it on kill, but as she pressed the trigger, a violent tremor shook the corridor. Her phaser beam hit the ceiling. Ruptured pipes came falling down in a downpour of vile smelling water. Cell bars fell toward her, and she ducked and side-stepped.
As the floor shook and rolled under her feet, Rhonda fell on her back, and in a blur she saw the shape-shifter phasing in and out of the Captain’s shape. The Monack turned to face
her. Realizing that she had witnessed his unexpected shift, he retrieved his native shape and staggered toward her, pointing his phaser.
Shaking the fuzziness caused by her fall, Rhonda sat up and shot without aiming. As the ground shook, the shape-shifter slipped on the wet floor. He lost his balance and fell. His head bashed the hard floor, then a heavy block of durancrete fell on his head. But Rhonda knew the Monack physiology made them extremely resistant to any kind of injury. She shot Tomar as he lay inert on the floor.
When the tremor faded and ceased, Rhonda stood up and crouched by the shape-shifter’s side to check his pulse but found none. Duh! She almost laughed at herself for being such a creature of habit. There wouldn’t be a pulse in any case. Monacks had no heart.
Quickly, Rhonda snatched his belt with the phaser and compad. The pad seemed to work. She hoped her phaser discharge hadn’t affected the batteries or the memory. She also snatched the dagger in his boot and found a strange blade in the other. Looking closely at the uniform, Rhonda realized it wasn’t made of Kevlar microfiber. These weren’t the Captain’s clothes, just more shape-shifter tricks.
The Monack looked dead but Rhonda had no way of confirming it. Just to make sure, she walked back a few steps and shot him once more, then, after reflection, a fourth time.
Satisfied, Rhonda followed the floor plans on the Captain’s pad and ran toward another deserted block where she wouldn’t be so exposed. As she stopped to catch her breath, she observed the blue pulsing dot of Captain Riggeur, still on the east side, only five hundred meters away through the maze and surrounded by about forty inmates.
The main population of Level Nineteen seemed to have migrated toward the southern section. Probably undamaged food dispensers or intact fresh water lines made that area more attractive to them.
How in God’s name would Rhonda manage to save the Captain by herself, especially if he was wounded? She suddenly realized that beyond the fact that she needed him in order to get back to the surface, she cared very much about what happened to Captain Cole Riggeur. Despite his uncompromising adherence to the rules, he’d saved her life twice. He’d even been right about enforcing the dress code. She understood that now.
Rhonda found herself missing his company. The very thought of his possible demise raised the small hairs of her nape, but she quickly set her fears aside. She refused to believe that the Captain was dead. Such a foolishly courageous man deserved to live. Could there be more devotion than duty commanded in her feelings for him?
If she ever wanted to find out, she had to get him away from these derelicts, but for now Rhonda had no strength left. She must catch a few hours of sleep before attempting a rescue or she would certainly fail.
Chapter Five
Level Nineteen - Crimson Zone
Armed with two phasers, a dagger in each boot, a curved blade at her belt, and a functioning compad, Rhonda felt confident enough to attempt a one-woman rescue. While checking the compad, she ate one more energy bar before setting out. The red dot of the Monack she had shot earlier had not moved, confirming that she’d effectively killed him.
The Captain’s compad she’d retrieved from the shape-shifter showed only six red dots in the cells around Cole Riggeur. The other rioters seemed to be exploring various corridors, probably in search of their dead leader. Seizing the opportunity, Rhonda set out toward the block where the inmates held her Captain. She wondered how Tomar had collected his blood and prayed Cole Riggeur wasn’t too badly injured to fight his way out alongside her.
A red dot on the compad barred her path to the corridor where the inmates kept Riggeur. Probably a lookout man. Was he armed? With what? No matter, Rhonda had to get through without alerting the whole gang. Hiding behind the corner wall at the intersection of the two corridors, she peered and saw the sentry. She had to distract him. Picking up a pebble from a heap of crumbled concrete, she threw it high over the man’s head. When it landed far behind him, the sentry turned his back to investigate.
As she’d practiced on dummies many times in combat training, Rhonda quickly snuck behind him and snapped his neck. The sound sickened her, but Rhonda steeled herself against her natural pity. As the sentry slid gently down against her, she caught the pipe he held to prevent it from clattering to the hard floor. She didn’t want to signal her presence.
Advancing silently along the empty corridor, Rhonda approached the corner of the maze where Riggeur’s blue dot had not moved in hours. Refusing to admit the possibility of his death, she assumed the rioters had tied him up.
The rumble of an aftershock echoed in the vast space above the cells and pipes rattled on the high ceiling. Instinctively, Rhonda ducked into one of the empty cells lining both sides of the corridor, where the duranium bars capping the top of the cell would protect her from the crash of overhead pipes, but none fell. Minor aftershock. So she resumed her stealthy approach on the Captain’s blue dot.
One inmate came out of a neighboring cell, eyes red from lack of sleep or drug. When he spotted Rhonda, the madness in his round eyes changed to lust. The man yelled as he charged. Rhonda drew her phaser and fired, but he kept coming, so she set it on kill and fired again. The crazed man collapsed at her feet.
More inmates, attracted by the commotion, poured out of the open cells and rushed toward Rhonda. Adrenalin pumping, she shot the closest one, a fat hairy man. But three more closed upon her.
Remembering the pipe in her hand, Rhonda hit a skinny convict in the head. She kicked an older man in the groin, then grabbed a third inmate and threw him hard. His head hit the floor with a loud thud. Cranial fracture for sure. When had Rhonda regressed from healer to killer? But she couldn’t think of that now.
Heart pounding, moving swiftly before more aggressors appeared, Rhonda reached the Captain’s cell. Her breath caught. The Captain sat alone on a bolted bench, hands and feet tied. To her relief, his shallow breathing proved him alive.
At first glimpse he looked asleep, head down on his chest, but Rhonda realized with alarm that if he had not awakened at the commotion, he must be unconscious. From the crimson stain on his right upper chest, she realized he’d lost a great deal of blood. Even now, she didn’t want to consider the possibility that he might not make it.
She shook him gently. “Captain, wake up. We have to get out of here.”
No reaction. She took his pulse. Weak but regular. She’d never seen Cole Riggeur in such a vulnerable state and realized she couldn’t stand the thought. She knelt and set her phaser on the floor to untie the red strips of cloth binding the Captain’s feet.
At a sound, she turned to see two convicts barging into the cell. A hulking Juzzaar with pale gold skin and dark glasses preceded a humanoid with yellowish reptilian scales instead of skin. A Karatzin!
Snatching the phaser off the floor, Rhonda shot the Juzzaar, but even with her phaser on kill, she knew he was too bulky to fall. She shot him several times before he dropped, then as she aimed for the Karatzin, the reptilian’s skin exuded a puff of yellowish vapor.
Too late. As the Karatzin fell, Rhonda realized that she’d inhaled some of the toxic substance. The emanation constituted part of the Karatzins’ natural defenses. Already a lethargy spread to Rhonda’s legs. Holding her breath, she could hear more inmates coming her way, and those she had knocked out started to awaken.
Glancing at the Captain with regret, Rhonda wanted to apologize for not taking him with her. “I’ll be back,” she managed to whisper, hoping he could hear her. “I’m sorry,” she added, needing to hear herself say it.
Rhonda struggled to her feet and started to run clumsily. That’s all her sluggish body would allow. Her shooting became sloppy but she retreated behind a broken wall section. Setting her phaser on explode, she emptied the blast in the midst of her pursuers and ran, but her pace felt slow.
After several turns, out of sight of her pursuers, Rhonda realized her eyes could not focus on the compad. She had a difficult time reading the floor plans. When she turned into a
nook of the maze, she hid and let her pursuers run ahead while she devised her escape route. Her head pounded in irregular bursts, clattering like a bowling alley on tournament day. She needed to find a safe place to hide while she recovered from the Karatzin’s poison.
Taking a new path toward the abandoned west side of the crimson floor, Rhonda finally reached the relative safety of an isolated cell in a deserted block of the labyrinth. She needed a drink to flush the poison out of her body. She uncorked her canteen and tipped it to her lips. No water left. When she tried the cell’s faucet, it had run dry... broken waterlines.
Exhausted, Rhonda realized she would have to wait out the effect of the venom. After making sure no inmate roamed anywhere near her area, she collapsed on the bunk bed. She fought the urge to sleep but felt herself slipping into unconsciousness.
*****
A gentle shake brought Rhonda back from sleep. Cursing the headache that threatened to explode her skull, she felt parched. The worst hangover ever. She welcomed the canteen raised to her lips and drank deeply, feeling the water soothe her dry throat.
Blinking in the dim light, she forced her eyes to focus and smiled as she recognized the dark liquid eyes of the female guard in gray uniform bent over the bunk bed. Xerna, cool and collected as always, held the canteen to Rhonda’s lips. Her partner, Javel, a bright boyish man who never seemed concerned about anything, leaned casually against the red-striped wall.
Pushing the canteen away, Rhonda sat up suddenly and regretted the fast move that sent needles stabbing her brain. She tried to ignore the discomfort as she drew her phaser and poised it in the direction of the two gray-clad guards. “Step back!” she ordered, with an authority she didn’t feel.
Xerna raised one eyebrow and retreated slowly. “Are you all right, Rhonda?”
“Fool me twice, shame on me." Rhonda fumbled with her compad. “How do I know you are not shape-shifters?”
Javel peeled himself off the wall and stepped forward with a strained smile. When Rhonda raised the muzzle of her phaser, he stopped, holding both hands up in entreaty. “All right, whatever you say.”
Alien Lockdown Page 7