by L. E. Thomas
She turned around, her face damp with tears. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do. I’m worried.”
“I know. Can you sleep? We have a little ways to go.”
She shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t believe this is real.”
Austin smiled. “That sounds familiar.”
Kadyn blinked. “Really?”
“Sure. It took me a while, too. I’ve come to accept the strange and unbelievable over the past year. The world is not what I thought it was.” He watched the rural land pass the window for a moment. “But I never thought my past would crash into my present the way it has today. I though these two parts of my life would stay separate, you know?”
He looked at Mom, who had pulled away from the window, her eyes drowsy.
“I didn’t want to have to tell either of you,” he said. “Not like this. I wanted to protect you from this because … I’ll admit sometimes I wish I didn’t know what I know. There has been a little part of me lately that has been wishing everything was just normal. I guess this proves you can’t always get what you want.”
Mom grasped his left hand, Kadyn his right.
“I’m proud of you,” Mom said. “I don’t pretend to understand all of this, but I am still proud of you.”
“You should be proud,” Sharkey barked. “Your son saved the life of two veteran pilots while putting his own life at risk. It’s the reason he was able to come home early. He earned his wings and has become quite the story in the Legion Navy.”
Austin’s face warmed. “I think that’s enough, chief.”
“That is wonderful news,” his mother said, her voice straining.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
She stared out the window. “I always knew you’d grow up to find success, but this … this is a little tough for a mom.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want anything bad to happen to you.”
Austin squeezed her hand. “I know exactly how you feel.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
“Alright move it!”
A voice rumbled down the cavern, bouncing off the walls like a thunderclap.
The prisoners rose from the floor of the cave, grumbling to anyone who would listen. The new guard, a massive beast with a scarred left eye and bushy black beard, had been torturing the prisoners for the past day. Josh thought he recognized the voice and the damaged eye as the pirate who incapacitated him on the day he had been captured.
Josh wondered where Dax Rodon found these specimens of lowly humanoids. Did Rodon have a cesspool to choose from? How did the Tyral pirates fill their ranks?
The other prisoners called the man “Cyclops,” but kept the moniker to themselves. After seeing Cyclops beat a man for falling down in the rock pits, it didn’t seem to be worth the trouble. Delmar said there would be another pirate to take the place of Cyclops, so there was no reason to hope he would leave.
Cyclops led the men down the same corridor they had been walking every day for at least the past month. However, they did not stop in the Lutimite rock pits this time. The day before, they worked in the rocks until their muscles ached, and their mouths went dry. During their grueling shift, six pirate fighters flew over their heads leaving the hangar. They returned hours later, their hulls battered and bruised with laser burns. A Legion merchant ship limped into the hangar near their pit. Two gaping holes in the hull signified to Josh the ship had been boarded and captured. Rather than take prisoners, however, it seemed the pirates had vented the passengers and crew directly into space.
They must have enough slaves for the workforce, or something went very wrong.
Pirates offloaded crates of supplies from the merchant ship. Josh overheard their discussions about stockpiling supplies but heard no details. Why would the pirates be stockpiling supplies? Captain Braddock always said the pirates stole enough for the short term, but rarely took surplus in fear of other gangs stealing it. This resulted in the repeated raids. If they were stockpiling supplies and other goods, what had changed?
One thing they were not taking in was slaves. Guess they had all the slave labor they needed, he thought. Now, they are going to make them work even harder in the Lutimite pits until there was nothing left. Delmar had said he worried they were nearly finished with the work in the asteroid. If there wasn’t work to do, Rodon might decide it was their turn to take a walk in space.
Instead, Cyclops led them to a transport in the main hangar. Dozens of crates as large as a car neatly lined the hangar floor. Josh glanced at the side, saw a stenciled script burned into it. He couldn’t read the language, but the crates looked far too official to be something the Tyral Pirates created.
“It’s time to eat you worthless sacks,” Cyclops grumbled. “Get on board.”
The landing ramp lowered.
“Hey!”
Josh turned to see Dax Rodon strolling toward Cyclops.
“Wait here,” Cyclops said to the prisoners.
Rodon leaned in close to Cyclops, but Josh could hear some of the words.
“Our benefactor … more should be arriving today,” Rodon whispered.
“Yes, sir,” Cyclops said. “I will be back by then.”
Josh frowned. Benefactor? Who would be supporting a pirate gang leader? He thought back to the latest news regarding Rodon and his pirates, their mysterious successes and their uncanny ability to have more technology and weapons of war than the Legion ever planned to combat. Josh nodded. Yes, he thought, a benefactor would make sense of a great deal of troubles facing the Legion in Quadrant Eight. In fact, it might be the missing puzzle piece.
Of course, this leads him back to the original question: who would support the Tyral Pirates?
Rodon stared at the prisoners. “Been a pleasure having you here, gentleman.” He laughed and walked back to his control room at the edge of the hangar.
As they filed into the transport ship with seats lining the walls and facing one another, Josh wondered what Cyclops meant by saying it was time to eat. Maybe he didn’t want to know.
Waylon, the leader of the Barracudas, nestled his large frame into the seat across from Josh. He nodded when their eyes met. Josh returned the gesture, glad a man of his size no longer was a threat. They had not spoken since their exchange, but Josh knew Waylon spent his time planning the means of their escape.
“Glad we’re leaving,” Josh said under his breath.
Delmar exhaled. “Tired of being on that asteroid?”
“Aren’t you?”
“I suppose, but I don’t know what awaits us.”
“True.” Josh leaned back into the seat and allowed the engine’s rumbling to relax him. “Why do the men call our new guard Cyclops?”
Delmar shrugged. “The myth of the one-eyed monster.”
“You have that myth, too?”
Delmar stared at him. “I think everyone does. It’s very old.”
“I know, but I thought it was based on Earth mythology. You know, from Greece.”
Delmar shook his head. “Not all stories originate on Earth.”
Josh shrugged, closing his eyes. “I guess not.”
“My people believe there was once a planet of giants who had one eye, so it’s not that unusual for me.”
Josh looked at him. “Your people? And who are your people?”
Delmar stared up, a pleasant expression forming on his relaxed face. “I am Triaxian.”
“What does that mean?”
Delmar smiled. “Oh, Josh, you should see my planet. My people have explored more of the galaxy than any other. We believe in peace and exploration, documenting everything to expand our knowledge of the universe. Somewhere along the line, my people must have found evidence of a one-eyed giant.”
Josh snorted. “We were told in flight school there was no such thing as aliens.”
“Of course they would say such things.”
“Why?”
Delmar looked at him, wrinkles forming on his cheeks. “To keep you f
ocused.”
Josh fought back a wave of nausea. “Are they going to kill us?” he asked softly.
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
“How did you get caught?” Josh asked.
Delmar grinned. “I was traveling on the edge of Legion space, conducting long-range scans of the space beyond the fringe when they got me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“So am I.” He closed his eyes. “Get some rest, son. We don’t know when we’ll get another chance.”
As Delmar leaned back in his seat to try to sleep, Josh stared at his hands. He thought of flight school and the history of the galaxy. Never did any of the instructors speak of aliens or even a faction known as the Triaxians, but perhaps Delmar was correct in his belief the Legion wanted their pilots focused? Or perhaps Delmar had a few screws loose himself?
Josh fell asleep as he debated with himself.
The flight felt like it took a few hours. Josh wasn’t sure because his nap turned into a deep sleep after the transport left the asteroid field. The ship passed through no curves on the way, so wherever their destination, it was close enough for normal propulsion. After a rough trip when the ship passed through the atmosphere, the transport settled down. The interior lights flickered on and off, for just a moment, it seemed like any other flight Josh had taken in his life.
“Get moving you stinking lyker pellets!” Cyclops boomed. “Now!”
The transport door slowly lowered, illuminating the vessel’s interior with the brightest light Josh had seen in months. He squinted, feeling the warmth touch his face. Air rushed into the transport, real air. It surrounded him, filled his lungs and rustled his matted hair. He hadn’t thought about it before, but he hadn’t inhaled true, atmospheric air since he left Earth.
Goosebumps rippled across his skin. He shuddered.
“Come on, son,” Delmar said. “It’s time to move.”
The prisoners marched side-by-side into the open air. Brown grasslands stretched into infinity like a carpet. Low mountains covered in morning blue mist rolled on the horizon. The mountains called to him somehow. Josh wanted to sprint across the fields, disappear into the hills and jump into a frigid stream. He could build a cabin by a pond and live there forever. Forget about the Tyral Pirates, Dax Rodon, the Legion, his parents—all of it.
Cyclops slapped the lead prisoner, directing them to a rickety, brown barn surrounded by a wooden fence. Goats, chickens, and cows dotted the area beside one side of the transport. On the other, rows of crops lined the land. Josh’s jaw dropped.
“Beautiful,” Delmar said.
“Move it!” Cyclops yelled. “Fall into lines inside the fence! It’s time you all started working for your food.”
If Cyclops referred to the active snot soup they’d been eating, Josh didn’t want to waste time creating it. The thought of it wiggling down his throat still made his stomach turn.
As they marched forward, Waylon moved in close. “This isn’t good,” he whispered.
“What do you mean?” Josh asked. “This is the greatest thing I’ve seen since we were taken.”
Waylon looked around. “You see any other ships? The idea was to steal a ship and escape. I don’t think we’ll go far on a cow.”
Josh frowned. “Give it time. We’ll have our opening.”
*****
The hoe plunged deep into the soil. The movement made a squishy sound. Two dozen other prisoners did the same, again and again. The orange light of the bright sun-baked everything on the land stretching flat to the mountains in the distance.
The transport remained where it landed earlier, a few hundred yards from the collection of barns and the fenced area for livestock. Cyclops had moved the prisoners to the fields shortly after they arrived and forced them into hard labor. The sun invigorated Josh, the prisoners around him moving faster and more energetically than before, hopping from one area to the next. Several times, Josh leaned back and enjoyed a deep breath of fresh air.
A boom echoed through the air, the sound bouncing off the ground.
“Back to work!” Cyclops yelled for the tenth time in as many minutes. “Anyone looking to the sky will spend some time with the lash.”
Josh kept his eyes on the soil. He turned the dirt as another boom echoed through the air. Waylon worked next to him, grumbling.
“Something’s coming through atmo,” he whispered.
Delmar cleared his throat in acknowledgment. “Sounds like a smaller craft, fighters maybe.”
“Fighters?” Josh asked. “Hang on.”
He pulled on the hoe twice as if the soil wouldn’t release the tool. Crouching down to his knees, he scooped the dirt around his tool. Waylon and Delmar stepped closer to him, shielding him from view. Josh shot a glance to the heavens, using his hand to block the sunlight.
When he stood, the other men glared at him.
“Well?” Waylon barked, his voice rattling like he had something stuck in his throat.
Josh kept his gaze toward the ground. “Four fighters are descending, looks like a variety of craft. Tridents and some others I don’t recognize. Standard for the Tyral Pirates.”
“Four?” Waylon looked at Delmar. “What do you think?”
Delmar remained silent as he worked. “This could work. We will have to see how long they stay.”
Four fighters coming into this backwater planet, either it was Dax Rodon coming by for an inspection of one piece of his little empire or it was a Tyral raiding party coming for a respite from all the pillaging.
Minutes later, the fighters formed into a semi-circle two-hundred feet above the farming compound. The fighters lowered in unison, sending a tornado of dust and pebbles around the area.
When they landed, Josh watched the best he could while pretending to continue working the soil.
Four pilots exited the craft. Other workers emerged from the structures to greet the pilots. One pilot stood out from the rest, his clothing bright red even from this distance. The brightly colored pilot pointed as if giving orders, and the workers ran in the ordered direction.
Josh rubbed the sweat from his eyes. Using his hands to cover his mouth, he said, “Might be Rodon.”
“Here?” Waylon asked. “Are you sure?”
“Not at this distance, but it could be him.”
“It doesn’t matter who it is,” Delmar said. He locked eyes with Waylon, then Josh. “They brought spacecraft. That’s all that matters.”
*****
The energy provided by being in a real atmosphere dissipated by late afternoon when the sun dipped low on the flat horizon. The blue sky, flawless like a turquoise stone, faded to black in a gorgeous transition. Stars flickered into view like sparkling flecks of ice on a black highway.
Josh’s muscles burned and ached. His shoulders caught an internal fire whenever he lifted his arms above his head. His lower back flashed with intense pain as if bones rubbed together beneath the skin. The others ceased all conversation long after the sun reached its zenith, and they toiled in silence in the intense heat. The heat pulsated in waves like they worked in a furnace. By the time the sun touched the horizon, Josh believed they worked in the fires of hell.
His mind wandered from the grueling work. Josh thought of Austin. He drifted in his thoughts to another place, another time, when he played football, hit on girls and logged in to play Star Runners every night with his friend. He switched his thoughts to Kadyn, the one love that would never be, and the afternoons he stole a glance at her while the three of them drank coffee. Austin accused him once of staring at Marilyn Monroe when Josh had really been looking at Kadyn. When he nearly got caught staring, he always turned to Marilyn. He stressed out about life then, worrying about games and girls, classes and scholarships. It didn’t seem real.
“Stop!” Cyclops boomed, his good eye wide. “Drop your tools and fall into a line. We’re heading back to the barn. Once there, you will go straight to sleep. We didn’t finish our goals today, you lousy sacks of dun
g. No dinner for you. Perhaps this will teach you to work instead of spending the day lounging in the sun. Let’s move it!”
Josh’s stomach turned with the mention of dinner, but the pains throughout the rest of his body took over. He tossed the rusted tool into the field, knowing he would return at first light, and shuffled his feet into line. Waylon bumped sweaty shoulders with him, his large frame gasping for breath.
The two lines of prisoners marched forward. Cyclops and his minions barked orders along the line. One guard smacked two men near the front of the line. Josh flinched at the sound of skin smacking into skin. War was brutal, he knew that much. But fighting in a spacecraft at least shielded you from the horrors of death and suffering. In fact, he struggled to remind himself a kill in his fighter ended another person’s life.
He sighed.
He might never fly a Trident again …
“You two,” Cyclops pointed at Josh and Waylon. “Step out of line and come over here.”
Josh sucked in his breath. “Me?”
“Yeah you!”
Josh stepped out of the line with Waylon next to him. Cyclops raised his hand and waited for the rest of the line to pass by. What did he want? Did he somehow know they planned an escape? Had he seen something to doubt the fact they were beaten prisoners?
“I saw you two lovebirds talking earlier today,” Cyclops said in a remarkably calm tone, his good eye separately taking in both of them. “Don’t even bother denying it.”
He spit on Josh’s leg. The brown liquid slid down his skin like a slimy snake. Josh closed his eyes for a moment, trying to hide his disdain for the man.
Josh shifted his weight between his feet. “It didn’t affect our work, sir.”
“So, you admit you were talking? What was the big topic for today? You braiding each other’s hair later? Hmmm?” He slapped Waylon across the face and turned to Josh. “Or will this one hold you when the sun goes down, and it gets cold?”
Josh opened his mouth to speak, but Cyclops hit him hard enough to see stars.
“You just lost your dinner privileges tomorrow as well,” he grumbled. “Tonight, I want both of you refueling those ships over there and waxing the hulls until I can see my face in them. I want it done before daylight. If Rodon complains about his fighter, I will be the least of your worries. Got it?”