“And you're sure they aren't listening now?” I looked about worriedly.
“Quite. I will let you know what they turn it back on again. It won't be long.” I started to feel excited, as if things were moving toward a goal now. I told them of my suspicions of the actual code I thought was being used through my own observations. All three of us were excited now.
“I have noticed something else over time,” said Giren.
“Yes?” I asked eagerly. Giren looked around furtively.
“The labcoats all use a code to open doors in the labs and also to open the cages for the animals but that code can also be spoken out loud, and that too, will unlock the doors to the lab rooms and cages. I believe the code starts with a numerical value of 1. For special, high security vaults and rooms on the property, they use this code and then the scientist, technician or guard will say his or her surname afterward. Dr. Fairchild normally cares for the large predators here and helps feed them too. He's very kind to them. He has complete access to the predators' cages and the atrium. I have surmised that Fairchild's code is-”
“13579 Fairchild,” I finished. He nodded vigorously, his eyes large with anticipation.
“And you overheard this information?”
“In an unfortunate way, yes. I was only partly under anesthesia for one of their experiments when I heard someone opening one of the cages for the gupeks.”
“What's a gupek?”
“They're nearly extinct now. Brought from the hive ship. The species survived the trip to Mars but not the experiments at Triskelion. But its genes live on in some of the foods we eat,” he said dryly. “And I in me. I suppose that is their contribution to the universe.”
“So, does this code work for opening our doors?” I asked.
“I suspect so. I'm not one hundred percent sure. My hearing and eyesight isn't what it used to be. Even if it were, there are the battalions of guards and mechs with blasters to worry about,” said Giren.
“Of course,” I said.
“It's on,” said Kiernan, directing us to change the subject. We all quieted down. My mind immediately thought of Fairchild working at the arena-like structure near the garden. If only there was a way I could get through to him that I really did have a powerful contact on Earth that could help fund his research. Perhaps he would be willing to help me. I could bring a small army down here from Ophir or Syzygy to get rid of Lafayette and give him back his research. How I would accomplish this, I wasn't sure. I just needed to get out of here.
I existed in a state of that strange state between twilight consciousness and dreams (or dreamless sleep) at night and existed mentally in between bouts of crushing boredom, fear, curiosity and planning on how to escape during the day when someone finally came to help change my fortunes. Everything I'd seen and gathered seemed to be converging together.
It was the elderly scientist, Dr. Fairchild, who came to me. I had not spoken to Giren and Kiernan about escaping in the last twenty-four hours or any other forbidden topic for some time, as we knew we were being closely monitored. I did not mention it to Fairchild either, as it seemed to agitate him. I wasn't sure how to broach the subject again with him. But it turned out that I didn't have to.
Early one morning, in fact, earlier than usual, he came down to my cell. The other two were fast asleep. I sensed that something had changed. Something was going to happen. I had no proof of it, but I could feel it.
“Your time is coming close when we will have to make good use of you, Robert,” he said, gently. He slowly placed a tray of food into the slot and then closed the slot door. I didn't move from my bed. I watched him closely. He droned on, almost as if I weren't there, making light conversations, such as: “You know, you are very special. We've studied you. Dr. Lafayette is most intrigued by you and so is the rest of the team.”
I already knew this. What was going on? What did he want? What were they going to do to me and my alien specialness? I knew that he and Patrick had something cooked up. He left for a half hour and I finally got up and padded toward the breakfast tray. Breakfast for me, now that I'd been sent back, was different from what it normally was. It was high on protein. Two pieces of boiled, tasteless meat, something cloned from an animal I couldn't recognize, a few vegetables and a slice of cheese. There was a small cup of some chalky protein drink. Tasted like hell, but after I consumed everything I felt a powerful boost of energy.
Fairchild came back, this time rolling a small cart with a tray full of medical supplies: auto-syringes, injectors, long, thin medicine canisters, wipes and alcohol and some other small medical devices. He was preparing the syringes with some type of medicine to inject me with. I began to feel the rise of nervousness. What was he about? He slowly opened his lab coat and I saw what looked like a data pad mounted or taped to the front of his shirt beneath the coat. He came very close to the bars of my cell.
The data pad read: “I will help you get out of here, but you must cooperate with me.” My attention was now rapt. He kept droning on about new projects and harbeasts and such, but I could barely hear him for the real message he was sending me. I could hardly believe it! The data pad screen faded away and another screen with more text appeared: “I've found your weapons, an atomic rifle and a dragon. Patrick has seen to their repair and charging and we will find a way to get them back to you soon. Please cooperate with us. It might be our only chance at putting an end to Lafayette's future plans, and to save your life.” Then the screen cleared.
Then more text: “When I give you something to eat, please eat it right away or to drink it. They are for your own good. You were drugged the last night of your stay in the mansion in your bedroom. The drug is designed to weaken your muscles. A type of very slow-acting muscle relaxant. The foods I'm giving you are designed to strengthen you and give you energy and reduce your pain for the trial about to come.”
Trial about to come? I felt a glimmer of hope. Hope beyond reckoning. The information I'd gleaned from my cellmates and by myself would become very important in the near future.
When he was done and I was left to my own devices in my cell for the day, Kiernan turned over in his bed, his old bones crackling and popping under his weight as he shifted into a more comfortable position. He regarded me quietly for a while.
“That one,” he said, “he and the finely coiffed youth, are up to something. I wonder what they're stirring up? It wouldn't be the first time.”
. . .
Patrick had come the next day to retrieve me. A guard escorted us as well. I was taken to the west wing of the property, the animal wing.
“Dr. Lafayette recently trapped a few harbeasts that were released in captivity a few years ago. They, out of most of the harbeast population, remain healthy and strong and thrive even on what little is out there in the desert. We're trying to find their young too, for we know the females have given birth to a litter of cubs,” he said.
“Where are we going, Patrick?”
“You'll see.”
We passed by the cells of tigers, lions and a few tygons. Then we came to a cell where one of the beasts was pacing impatiently up and down, panting. It was a harbeast, such a large and majestic, frightening looking animal up close. It's pungent, musky odor was overpowering, filling my nostrils and my mind with the scent of wildness and fear. It turned and bared its teeth at Patrick and the guard, stalking toward its cage door. Then it looked at me and it stopped growling. It was a female harbeast and she lolled her red tongue out and stared. Her bright orange eyes watched me closely. I could sense a deep, primitive intelligence behind them. The size of the animal was frightening and impressive. I could feel my legs trembling slightly. The guard came forward and she began to snarl again, this time at all three of us. I backed away from the cell.
Patrick unlocked another heavy, metal door. At the top it said: “DANGER” in red letters. Beyond this room, the air was very cool, with harsh antiseptic scents mingling with the faint funk of animal musk. We moved through a long, w
ide hall. On both sides were large rooms facing the hall, wide observation windows displaying strange animals suffering from cruel experiments, with technicians conducting their work on these specimens. Various creatures in these exam rooms were hooked up to diagnostic equipment. Some glowed in dark chambers. Others were nothing more than unexplainable looking chimeras, vicious looking and awful to behold. I saw two or three rooms where two different creatures had been sewn together. Some of these animals were obviously dying. The sounds were of frightened, confused and ferocious animals and it was a bewildering experience. It frightened and enraged me. Was it necessary to do these kinds of abominable things to other living creatures just to build a better, stronger animal? Surely not! The ghost of Dr. Mengele haunted this God-forsaken place. This man was a monster and it infuriated me that he could come all the way out here, hide from the eyes of the law and get away with such atrocities with impunity. My thoughts of what poor Kiernan and Giren had gone through made me shake with rage. Patrick gave me sideways glances. He put a hand on my shoulder. Finally, I turned to him.
“Why did you bring me here to look at all of these horrors?” I demanded.
“Because Dr. Lafayette requested that I do so.”
“Oh did he?” Patrick nodded.
“Your fate has been decided and I don't want you to be shocked at what's about to happen. You've been chosen to be a participant in The Game.” My stomach turned and drew in on itself. I felt my bowels drop. I wasn't surprised, but it still hit me like a comet.
“Why? I thought that I was supposed to be so special?” I finally said when I could get the words out.
“Numerous samples of your DNA have already been taken.”
“So that's it, then. My DNA is already taken and I'm of no more use.”
“I wouldn't say that. If you survive The Game you may become his new favorite.”
“I have no desire to be his new favorite! I have a family back home!” I said bitterly. And I may never see them again. Patrick shrugged. The guard stood silently like a looming sentinel behind us.
“You are to choose which animals you will fight.”
“What?”
“Yes, you must choose.” Suddenly, there was a loud alarm coming from the security guard's comlink attached to his belt. The guard looked confused.
“Hadn't you better answer that? That's a private tier one call,” snapped Patrick to the guard impatiently. It sounded plaintive, urgent. The guard slowly went to answer it.
“Excuse me,” he said, looking from me to Patrick. “Remain here,” he said gruffly and he went back toward the entrance and ducked behind the door. Patrick turned to me quickly.
“A weapon for you!” He whispered furiously and at the same time he quickly pushed a small piece of cloth into my overalls through my chest and it stuck as if glued there. The move was so deft that I almost didn't catch it.
“It emits a high-pitched sound that only the animals can hear. It can incapacitate them,” he whispered. I nodded quickly, a great wave of relief washing over me. “You'll be given a primitive type weapon to fight the beast. This electronic whistle will make it easier to take and hold the upper hand in a battle.”
“Question,” I whispered. His brow raised in impatient expectation.
“Can the doors to the arena gates be opened by speaking a code?” His eyes widened slightly, but he nodded.
“And does that code involve the last name of the members who care for the animals here?”
“For the large predators, only one man's name. The one I've sent to communicate to you.” I had my answer. There were no longer any questions in my mind. The security guard came back out about three seconds after our exchange and Patrick went on explaining some aspect of The Game. I pretended to nod and listen, but my mind was on fire. I could barely hear what he was saying for the rush of adrenaline and hope in me. The guard gave us both a hard, suspicious look. He didn't say anything to us, though I imagined he may have wondered what transpired in his absence. I finally verbalized my choice.
“I choose the harbeast.” Patrick nodded curtly while the security guard gave me a look that I thought seemed like slight admiration.
I now had a way out of this hellhole. And if I could, I was going to help as many people as possible to get out of here. I had no idea how I was going to do it, but that had never stopped me before.
13
I passed the next two days in the usual activities in captivity, but Dr. Fairchild would come visit me in the mornings. On our trips to the gymnasium I'd noticed the sound of increased air traffic activity outside. Quite a few expensive civilian ships had been coming in and landing. More than usual. I suspected this had something to do with The Game.
One night while lying awake, one of my friends, Kiernan, suddenly spoke after we'd fallen silent after a long bout of ridiculing the uninspired dinner fare. I'd told them of what was going to happen to me. There wasn't much they could do or say to help me and I could tell it pained them. However, they didn't know that I had a secret that I kept buried inside my mattress. Kiernan was probably sensing that I was still awake.
“This place wasn't always run by Lafayette, you know.”
“I know.” I turned and looked over at Kiernan.
“This place is far more powerful in the resources and knowledge here than anyone could imagine. It has great potential to turn this planet around from a dust ball to a living, breathing world like Earth. What he does is a crime against all things living,” said Kiernan. He should die. I thought darkly. I recalled my conversation with Rychik before the crash.
Rychik was right about some people after all.
I carefully felt for the tiny weapon underneath my mattress that Patrick had slipped me, careful not to make any large, wide movements. All I had to do was bide my time. For either hope or death. I was betting on hope. So far, Dr. Donatien Lafayette had been used to getting everything he wanted. All of life was a big game, subject to his rules. If he thought he was toying with me or playing one of his cruel psychological games, treating me lavishly well in order to get me to become complacent only to throw me back in prison and to the lions later on, Patrick, Fairchild and I had a surprise in store for him too.
I didn't see Patrick any more but Dr. Fairchild came one last time, with his secret message on the data pad under his coat when he brought my breakfast the next morning: “Your weapons are ready. Remember this! I will have your weapons hidden somewhere in the sand of the floor of the arena. I've planted them at the south side near the wall. There is an “x” in the sand where they are buried. Find them and save yourself. I will take care of the rest.” I had no idea what “the rest” would be. I had no idea if this would even work. But if I were to die, I could now die in a fashion of my own choosing. If I didn't escape, I would go out fighting.
I lived in a world that existed in an unreality, divorced from anything normal, right or good, and I felt poisoned by this dark and casually violent world Lafayette had created. I wanted it to end.
And I now saw an end. His or mine.
. . .
All the next day no one came to see me, except Thomas the guard, who brought our breakfast, nor did anyone send for me. I passed the time away in a state of sickened anxiety. My senses told me to keep the weapon on my person, as my time was drawing near. Giren and Kiernan felt anxious for me, I could tell. But every time I thought of the weapon Patrick had given me, and of my guns hidden in the arena, my spirit felt buoyed.
Sometime during the late evening, the red door opened.
It grew so quiet as the other specimens were shocked and afraid. Kiernan and Giren knew it was for me, however.
Giren stood up and pressed his face against the bars, his eyes wide with impotent fear and outrage. Kiernan's eyes held a deep sadness.
“Don't worry for me, Kiernan and Giren,” I said. I could hear Kiernan's soft moans of grief for another lost friend.
Four security guards, more thugs than true security officers I'd say, came throu
gh the red door and straight for my cell. I heard gasps and whispers of fright and dismay as other specimens observed them taking away a fellow denizen. They cuffed me and led me away. I tried to give my new found friends on last look back as I had no idea if I would ever see another day in this life but they roughly shoved me out the red door and it closed and I heard the heavy metal slick of the locks behind me.
They took me up a steep incline. At the top was another red door. This lead to a running walkway that dipped and turned as it sped forward. It seemed we were traveling forever on this walkway when we finally arrived at the destiny waiting for me.
The arena.
I was taken up a long flight of steps to what looked like a blank wall. A large section of this wall rose and before me was the arena near Lafayette's gardens. They dumped me on the arena floor, the sand pooling into shallow sinks under my feet. I felt slightly off balance in the unusually soft sand, probably chosen to keep fighting contenders at a disadvantage.
My mind was racing. Quickly my eyes swept the floor looking for that “x” Dr. Fairchild said he'd marked in the sand near the south side of the arena. I don't know whether it was the growing panic I was feeling or the adrenaline racing through me, but I couldn't find it! I felt rough hands pulling at my coveralls and saw a hand snatch the little pad pocket hiding the small weapon that I thought was carefully hidden away. Above me and to the front were rows and rows of seats, filled with Dr. Lafayette and his guests. There were about ninety people. Ninety people, drinking and laughing and also, I noted, placing bets on the mini-holoscreens in front of them. I shouldn't have been surprised. I saw three armed guards stationed high above us. In the middle, sitting with his legs crossed, well tanned and with that winning smile on his face was Lafayette, right in my direct line of sight. A guard behind me threw something at my feet before leaving. The heavy panel door closed down behind him. It was a long spear. I picked it up, wishing it had a poisoned tip.
Mission: Harbeasts of Mars Page 12