Questor
Page 19
Jon didn’t even know he’d swung his arm until he felt the judder run through it as it connected. He stared at his still extended arm, which was now shaking. He lowered it, and glanced at Manny, shock clear on his features.
“What have they done to me?” Jon asked in a plaintive voice. “I’ve never been a violent man.”
“Perhaps you just needed to release some of those negative feelings,” Manny said, putting an arm around Jon’s shoulder he led him away to one side and added, “Give yourself some time.” Jon just shook his head.
Barlow called Doctor Mannion over to have a word.
Triena watched them go and inside she was in turmoil. She wanted to help Jon but she wasn’t sure how. His reaction to his treatment by the Mideans was outside of her knowledge, but it was quite clear to her now that he was still in pain, though of a much different kind than that perpetrated by his captors. It wasn’t the kind of pain she could just soothe away.
Until the Mideans came there was no conflict on her world, hadn’t been for generations. She thought she’d done the right thing last night, but had she? Maybe her interference had just delayed the inevitable. She saw the doctor from Questor talking to Barlow. Triena decided perhaps here was someone who could help her understand.
A short time later the questioning of the Midean started. Commander Barlow let Manny begin, and Jon prowled in the background. Peter thought it might be disconcerting for the Midean to see Jon as he fought for self-control, though as time passed Peter found it somewhat disturbing. This was a Jon Hardesty he’d never seen before.
At first the Midean wouldn’t even give his name. He just stood aloof and silent, not even acknowledging the questions. Then Lector and Triena approached, and with the threat of their presence and Jon’s constant pacing, the man’s nerves must have begun to play on him. At last he admitted his name was Medved and his rank was squad commander, but with an indulgent smile he went on to address Jon.
“It’s no use you pacing up and down like that, trying to intimidate me. I know you have a grievance, in your eyes I’m sure a just one, but that won’t make me answer your questions.”
Jon stopped pacing for a moment and stared at him before he continued to pace, clenching and unclenching his hands now. What Jon kept to himself was the cold chill he felt when Medved spoke to him. Medved evinced a pale copy of Charod’s smile, and all Jon wanted was to wipe it from his face.
It was Manny who replied, “Oh, it’s true we don’t have the refinements you use, but if you don’t answer our questions then we’ll leave you to the Rhiava and they have methods of their own.”
Medved glanced over at the watching Rhiava, but then he just shrugged and replied, “Then they’ll have to use them. I’ll not tell you anything else.” He made the mistake of smiling again.
Jon, his heart pounding in his chest like the proverbial hammer, moved forward then, slow and deliberate, stopping when Triena touched his arm. He swiveled to look at her, and she shook her head. She didn’t speak, but somehow it was enough. She would be horrified if he carried through what was eating at him. With difficulty he veered direction and walked away, stifling the overwhelming need to kill, and was at once angry and grateful he hadn’t.
What am I doing? I’ll not become what I despise! Unless I already have. Charod’s face wavered before his eyes. What have you done to me, you bastard?
He continued to walk, but could he walk away from himself? He stopped and stood watching.
Triena watched him go, and then began to follow him before she halted. She knew the exact emotions churning inside him. He was consumed with a passionate hatred, a primitive urge to kill in revenge, which was so out of character in the normal scheme of things that she felt from him. She loved this man, she wanted so much to help, but she didn’t know how. That was a bitter pill to swallow. She’d always known what to do before in her life, and now when it was most important, she was lost. She wanted to talk with Jon, but what could she say?
It was then she saw the doctor in the background helping to pack the shuttle. They were to leave soon, with or without Medved. She moved over to ask for advice from someone who might know.
Triena knew the doctor was intimidated by her, perhaps even a little distrusting, but Triena could understand that.
“Doctor Mannion? I wonder if we could talk a moment?”
“Of course,” she replied politely, but it was obvious she was wary.
“I find Jon’s reaction to his...condition a little difficult to understand, perhaps you could give me some help.” Triena was a little hesitant.
“I’m not sure I quite understand what you mean,” Helen said.
“When we first rescued him, he seemed physically affected but mentally quite strong. He resisted the impulse to mistreat the one who’d tortured him when it would’ve been quite easy. However, as time has passed his reaction has become harsher and bitterer. He seemed quite prepared to harm our prisoner, which he’d never have even considered earlier.” She hesitated, glancing over toward Jon, before continuing in a low voice. “It’s as if he’s changing before my eyes. I sense his terrible confusion, his pain, and I want to help, but how? I don’t know what to do, what to say.”
“That is quite a question, I think more than you understand.”
“But can you help me?”
“I’ll try.”
Half an hour later they were all squeezed in the shuttle and on their way to Sanctuary, including Medved who wore a makeshift blindfold, but without Lector. Due to the loss of poor Willett, they could have taken Lector with them, but he decided it would be more useful to stay and keep an eye on things at Sierrie. He borrowed a transmitter, the one that had belonged to Willett, so he could report any changes.
Nunez again took the controls, preparing to fly low as per Commander Barlow’s instructions. Nunez hesitated for a moment in case Jon wanted to pilot the craft, but Jon made no move to take the helm, instead choosing to sit in the back staring out of the window.
Triena sat next to Jon, going over in her mind what the doctor had told her. It seemed she was on the right track in most of what she’d thought, but according to the doctor, it was probable that Jon’s resentment would smolder under the surface for a while, and maybe flare up a few times, before at last he came to terms with his experience. Such a traumatic episode could, however, leave lasting scars.
The first apparent acceptance had just been the natural relief of his release from his ill treatment, but true acknowledgement was farther down the line, as Doctor Mannion put it. At the same time, he needed to experience the feelings to be able to get past them. Triena suggested helping by suppressing such feelings, but the doctor was adamant in the long run that wouldn’t help. It would just bury the feeling to resurface at a later date, and it would be even harder to handle then. Jon must work through them to emerge on the other side.
It took days to make the journey from Sanctuary on foot, but the return by shuttle took less than an hour, and during that time Jon never said a word. He continued to stare out at the vista below. Inside he was remembering, it seemed harder and harder now to chase those memories away, and he couldn’t understand why. When he’d first escaped it was a relief, and the memories were pushed aside without a second thought, but now he couldn’t keep them out. It was almost as if Charod was standing there just in front of him with that nasty smile on his face. Jon felt he could reach out and strike the cold bastard, but, of course, he wasn’t there, and Jon now wished fervently he was. He had to face his nemesis, how else could he banish him?
Most galling of all to Jon, was that the fear returned with the memories. And he couldn’t shake it. Charod was still out there, somewhere. All because I let him live! Fool! Fool!
Manny destroyed the awful machine, didn’t he? Of course he did, but what if it could be repaired? Stop it, stop it! Jon put his hands over his ears as if in reality he’d shouted out. He leaned his head against the viewport, as if the view could ease his mind. Once it could’ve d
one, but not now.
Triena sitting alongside him no longer seemed to be able to help him either. Her presence would have calmed him a short time ago, but now he somehow knew she was as troubled as he.
Manny was sitting across the aisle, and Jon sensed his friend was watching him closely. Jon saw when Manny touched Triena’s arm, a simple request for help, and her almost imperceptible shake of the head. Manny frowned and he and Triena stared at each but their conversation was a silent one.
Martin Henson heard from Peter Barlow. They were on their way at last. He walked over to Sernov to inform him of the news. Sernov saw him approaching and went to meet him.
“Delav informs us travel is again possible. I assume your shuttle is on the way,” he said, taking the wind out of Martin’s sails.
“Yes, that’s true; but how? No, forget it, I won’t bother to ask. But do you know they’re bringing a Midean with them?”
“A Midean? No, that’s something Delav didn’t know. Why are they bringing such a person here? It doesn’t sound safe.”
“It’s quite safe. He’s a prisoner and will have no idea where Sanctuary is located. They captured him at Jon’s suggestion and attempted to question him. Anyway, he wouldn’t speak, so Triena proposed bringing him to the Elders. Lector has stayed behind to keep an eye on the shield base on Sierrie.”
Sernov was quiet, and Martin got the impression he was uncomfortable, but Martin didn’t understand why. Triena had recommended bringing the prisoner to Sanctuary. She wouldn’t have done so if it wasn’t safe, would she?
Sernov seemed to mentally shake himself, and said, “Well, once they arrive we may be able to get some answers.”
Martin recognized a brush off when he heard one. There was some undercurrent here, he thought. He left Sernov and sought out Joanna. He found her discussing healing methods with one of the females. When he could do so without arousing suspicion he drew Joanna on one side, and told her of his misgivings.
“But you’ve nothing to go on other than your own sense that something may be wrong, but you don’t know what?” She was confused.
“I know; I can’t explain it even to myself. But what I wanted to know was if you had any questions, doubts. I gather from your reaction that you don’t.”
“Well, I didn’t, but...you’ve started me wondering. Look let’s not create ghosts for ourselves. So far these people have been nothing but friends, first to Jon and Manny and since to us. They haven’t done or said anything to alter that. Jon owes his life to them. I don’t think it’s fair to let your fears run away with you, and then influence our attitude to them. Keep things in perspective.”
Martin glanced at her. He’d been right to ask for her to accompany him. “You’re right, nothing’s changed. Just because Sernov was concerned about a Midean, but considering what’s happened, what else should I expect? I think I have imbued these people with extraordinary powers without allowing them to also be ordinary. You know, worry, concern. Simple things like that.” He was perplexed.
“Sernov! Look it’s Scral and some of the others,” Cosna shouted with excitement, drawing the attention of most everyone in the village.
“Scral?” Sernov hurried over to the edge of the village as fast as he could. Walking wearily toward them was a group of about a dozen Rhiava, including three children. “Scral!” Sernov called out and one of the party moved ahead to greet the old man. “Thank the Gifts you’re safe. We thought all had been taken from Haven.”
“No. Most of the villagers were captured, though a few were killed. Just those you see here managed to get away. Vrai and I used our shields to protect as many as we could.”
“Vrai, is she here too? Where? I cannot see her.”
“She was injured. She could no longer continue and asked us to leave her. She was going to institute paranchii until we could go back for her.”
“Paranchii?” a voice asked. It was the Human female coming up behind. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interfere,” she added.
“Who is this?” Scral asked, more curious than suspicious.
Sernov gathered all the refugees in the village, saw they were given whatever sustenance they needed, and then told them what was happening. He’d just about finished explaining when Delav announced the approach of the shuttle.
Almost at the same time Henson’s transmitter beeped. “Mannheim to Henson. We’re about to land, should be with you soon.”
“Thanks, Manny. We’ve had some excitement here. Some refugees from Haven have just arrived.”
TWELVE
Sullivan paced his command center. The ship, the presumed Midean ship, had been in orbit on the other side of the planet for about ten minutes now. So far they hadn’t even let on they knew of the Questor’s existence. Sullivan had a reputation for a sixth sense and just then it was screaming at him. So he paced his command center.
He ordered constant scanning and asked the helm to try and keep equidistant from the other ship. He waited. He wouldn’t make the first move, but he was prepared. The ship was on full alert, weapons were ready. He hoped he wouldn’t need to use them, but he had a good weapons crew if it proved necessary. What he did regret was that both Jon Hardesty and Raul Nunez were on the surface. He could do with one of them at the helm just now. He knew Keyes was competent, but he lacked that extra something, a flair, which was second nature to Hardesty and, perhaps to a lesser degree, to Nunez.
“Sir,” Chang called from the sensor console, “they’re changing vector and I think…yes, they’re increasing speed.”
“Confirmed, sir,” piped up Keyes. “They’re now on an intercept course.”
“How long?” Sullivan asked, hurrying to the helm.
“Eight minutes if we maintain present course and speed,” Keyes replied, his voice calm.
Sullivan glanced at Piper, who nodded confirmation the channels were open. “Weapons, target coming our way, be ready. All hands, prepare for action stations. Await final orders.” If they wanted a fight they could have one, but they’d have to start it. However, after days of worry and inaction, Sullivan was just in the mood. He wasn’t a man who would turn to violence except as a last resort, but that wasn’t the attitude of these Mideans if what they’d done on Rhiava was any example.
He did wonder if their ship’s weapons were any more advanced than those used on the surface by the troopers. If they weren’t then there shouldn’t be a problem, providing all other things were equal.
“Do you wish to instigate transmissions, sir?” Piper enquired.
“I don’t feel like ever talking to another Midean,” said the captain, sounding weary, “but yes, I suppose we should. Not that I think it’ll do any good. I don’t think they’re going to be in a bargaining mood at the moment.”
He was right, it wasn't just that they didn’t wish to bargain, they didn’t even wish to respond, unless a wasted shot when they were still too far away counted as a response.
“Take evasive maneuvers as necessary, Mr. Keyes.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Mr. Whitaker, let’s send them a response, shall we? Nothing too strenuous, just give them a taste of what they’re facing.” The shot from the Midean ship was a larger version of their percussion weapon. If that was all they had, they were in for a shock. Whitaker had come up from the weapons bay where he was normally based, to take over the weapons station in the command center. If Barlow had been onboard, he would have taken the station from which to control the actions of Whitaker and his team. Whitaker wasn’t used to command center protocol but seemed to be enjoying being in the thick of things. Being a weapons officer on an Explorer ship tended to be a rather quiet assignment.
“Minimum level, sir?” Whitaker asked the captain.
“Yes.”
The one visual sign of weapons fire was a distortion as it travelled through space, until it hit the alien ship. The ship rocked and Sullivan imagined the minor damage onboard as systems overloaded.
“Try again, Mr. Piper,” t
he captain ordered. Piper again attempted to get a response from the alien vessel. There was still no response.
The Midean loosed another shot, this time their ship was much nearer and Questor rocked a little from the concussion, however there was no damage. Questor was well shielded.
“Whitaker, up a notch,” Sullivan ordered.
Whitaker complied and the distortion tracked across space again. The enemy ship shuddered, and this time a crackle of energy could be seen snaking across the vessel.
Sullivan paced up and down, giving the other vessel time before instituting another attempt at transmission. He hoped they would at least be prepared to listen, now.
However, his only answer was another shot from their weapon, this time at what seemed to be a higher caliber as the pressure wave accompanying the hit was much greater. The Questor shook from stem to stern.
“Damage control!” Sullivan called, and Piper put out a ship-wide request for updated information.
“Whitaker, up again please. Fire when ready.” Sullivan’s voice was sharp.
“No major damage, sir. Two minor injuries,” Piper reported.
“Firing, sir,” Whitaker announced.
The weapons fire shot out again. This time it engulfed the enemy vessel like a cloak, and inside the cloak energy crackled against and through the hull to shoot out the other side where it danced against itself ‘til it faded and died.
“Chang, estimate damage if you can.”
“Yes, sir. I’ve been scanning since the first hit. I can’t be quite sure of all that I’m reading, some results don’t make sense as their technology isn’t compatible, but one thing I am certain of, there’s extensive damage to some of their systems. Including, I think, life support.”
“Piper. Send a request for a cease-fire. Tell them we’ve no wish to continue this. We’ll offer any assistance they require.”
He paced again as he waited for a response.