Patrick opened his eyes at the swishing sound in front, to see the doors flying open and disappearing into the walls. A wall appeared maybe two meters from the door, and extended in both directions. The Monk cautiously stepped out into that space, looking both ways and seeing that it was a corridor or hallway. At one end, about twenty meters back, were a set of wide doors that looked to be of heavy construction. There was a glowing sign above the door in some unknown language, and what looked like a warning symbol on the door itself. Then to his shock the words became legible, intelligible to his mind. The glowing sign said Engineering, which his mind told him was the propulsion control of this ship, for such he knew it to be. The warning symbol had something to do with great energies that were not to be trifled with.
How did I know that? he thought, staring at the sign and symbol. He then noticed that his head no longer hurt, as if he had never hit it hard on a tough surface like the ceiling of the med bay. And how did I know that word? Med bays were not something he was familiar with, but he knew what it meant. It was like an infirmary or one of the hospitals the monks ran on the planet. But much more advanced. And he knew that those boxes were used to heal people who were seriously injured. And to augment them, whatever that meant. And then he knew what that meant, and his eyes opened in horror.
I have been changed, he thought, looking back at his nude body and noticing more of the changes. Not only were his muscles larger, but he thought he was taller, longer of limb, and his reasoning faculties seemed to be improved. Why have they done this to me? he thought, taking some steps up the hall and feeling like each one was going to send him through the ceiling. Or more likely split his head open. I have to get control of my body, he thought. His abilities with the Fae came from total control of his physical systems. And now he didn’t have that kind of control.
A feeling of impending doom turned him away from Engineering. He didn’t know why he had that feeling, but it was overwhelming. He turned the other direction and moved toward the opposite end of the hall. The sign there said Bridge, and he knew that was the control room of this, ship, he guessed it was. But not a sailing ship like he was used to on his world. Other doors were set in the hall wall that he passed on the way, and he thought he might come back and examine them later. Right now the control room was what he wanted to see.
Patrick felt some trepidation as he approached the door to the control room, but nothing like what he had felt trying to get into Engineering. He was sure it was some kind of conditioning, put into him by whatever had changed him physically. The training he had undergone may not have prepared him for this particular situation, but it had given him a very flexible mind, able to adapt to the new and unusual.
The Monk pushed the green button on the wall. There was no corresponding red button, and he surmised that the other button was meant to lock the door against those outside the room. The door slid open and the Monk moved with caution through the open portal, afraid he might fly into something and cause some damage.
He found himself in a room of wonders. There were several very comfortable looking chairs attached to the floor, with panels of the smooth plastic material before them. A few squares of light flashed on the boards, and more lights blinked on and off on the walls. Other oblong areas on the wall showed scenes that he recognized from his planet, like a long range view of the Monastery he had been raised in, and one of the coastal cities. One showed a view of star flecked blackness, and the shapes of what could only be great machines floating in that firmament. Ships of the ancients, he thought, making a sign to the Good God to protect him. They could only be such, and such too must be this place where he found himself.
Then he turned and the greatest wonder of all was his to behold. For the end of the room was a great portal that must have been some kind of glass, for it looked out onto dark water, and a multitude of glowing fish such as the Monk had never heard described swum. How far under are we? he thought, walking to that window and looking out. Something dark flashed by, looking like the sharks he had seen on the surface, but slightly different. It took one of the glowing fish in its tooth lined mouth and swum away, a trail of darker liquid following its path.
Patrick heard something move and turned to see a strange looking creature come through a hole in the wall and start to traverse the room. It didn’t look dangerous. In fact, it looked more machine than animal, though it moved about the room. A sucking sound came from the thing, and it moved over the floor in a pattern. Cleaning robot, his mind told him, then explained the idea of a robot, which marveled the Monk even more. This is truly a place of the ancients, he thought, taking a step and looking at the machine, which his mind told him was harmless.
I wonder how much I have changed? thought the Monk, taking a swing in the air that seemed off balance. Patrick next went into a crouch and threw a series of punches and kicks into the air, all of which were horribly uncoordinated. He frowned at the thought that his abilities were so impaired to the same degree that his body was improved. Have to do something about that, he thought, going into a cross legged sitting position and putting his hands on his knees. He closed his eyes and slipped into a meditative trance, his mind still alert for any changes in the room that might signal danger, while his inner eye checked through his body and made the new connections needed to forge a Fae state. This was a technique the order had developed to aid in healing, or to allow a monk to move to the best of his capabilities despite injuries that wouldn’t heal quickly, such as broken bones. He knew this one time wouldn’t be enough, but it was a start, and as his masters had taught him, any journey had to begin with a start. Minutes later the monk sat in a relaxed trance state, his breathing regular, while his nervous system ran through the connections that would make it whole again.
* * *
Alyssa Suarez opened her eyes, seeing the top of the tank rising and retracting. She took a deep breath and was happy to note that her lungs now felt whole again. Then the alarming thought that something was wrong struck her mind. I didn’t program the native’s tank to wait for us to awake, she thought, pulling herself up and looking over at the empty tank. Shit. So he’s somewhere on this ship, wandering around.
She checked Derrick’s tank and saw that he still had a good two hours to go before he was ready for release. A check of Shadow’s tank showed the cat was ready, and she pushed the lit panels that told the small tank to revive and release its patient.
The cat leapt into her arms as soon as its tank was open. He purred deeply as his golden eyes looked lovingly into hers. Would you really love me so much if you realized all the shit I put you in the middle of, she thought as she squeezed the cat and stroked his fur. But the animal had unconditional love for her, as she had for him. She put the cat on the floor and looked around for a moment. “Time to work, fella,” she said to the cat, who looked up at her and made a silent meow with his mouth.
Alyssa touched a panel on the wall, making sure her fingertips covered the proper point. The panel sprung open and she grabbed the pistol revealed within, checking the magazine and power readings to make sure it would do what she wanted it to do. Next she opened a locker and pulled out a set of coveralls, got into them, then pulled a set of multipurpose boots onto the floor. She sat on the nearby bench and pulled the too large footwear onto her feet. The boots shrunk and adjusted until they fit perfectly.
Computer, she thought through her uplink. Where is the native?
The native is on the bridge, said the brain of the ship.
And what is he doing there?
He is sitting on the floor in what is called the lotus position, said the computer. His mind is in a trance state while he adjusts to his new body parameters.
Alyssa breathed a sigh of relief. At least the stranger wasn’t roaming the ship touching things that were best not messed with, like the controls on the bridge. Of course he wasn’t authorized command and control privileges, so it shouldn’t have amounted to anything. Shouldn’t didn’t always mean couldn’t th
ough, especially in one who had the genetic codes of the ancients. So it was good of him to be sitting around doing nothing.
“Let’s go, boy,” said the agent to Shadow, at the same time as she sent a mental command to the beast. He was her backup, and she wasn’t sure she could get better help in this system, which included Derrick, the ex-special ops man.
The pair walked down the corridor, the cat slightly in front and in a relaxed walking posture. Alyssa was a little more tense, her pistol gripped tight. She checked it again, making sure it wouldn’t kill, only disable. Of course the cat could do that as well, and she hoped it would not be necessary for either of them to do anything.
The door to the bridge opened as silently as it ever did, with just a slight swish. She saw the native sitting on the floor immediately open his eyes, and the blue orbs looking at her sent a shiver down her spine. Then he was on his feet, his naked body a mass of sinewy muscles. The motion was smooth, up to the end, when he stumbled a bit.
“How are you feeling?” she asked the native, watching him closely. He eyed the gun in her hand, then looked at the cat. A smile played across his lips as he looked at the silken animal who stood at Alyssa’s feet. The smile left his face when his gaze switched up to the agent’s face. He stood there staring and saying nothing, and Alyssa wondered if the nanites had done the job of rewiring his communication center like they were supposed to. Seeing his muscular body, and his larger genitalia, she could tell that the nanobots had done their job with him physically. That wasn’t always a part of the augmentation, the increase in sexual prowess, but it was hardly ever regretted.
“Can you understand me?” she asked, keeping her distance from the dangerous looking man. She had seen him in action. And now that he was bigger and stronger, she was sure she didn’t want to get into a hand to hand confrontation with him. Despite all of her training, years of martial arts and dirty fighting, she was sure that the man was more than her match.
“I can understand your speech,” said the man, his blue eyes going cold. “What I cannot understand is your actions. Why did you do this to me? Why did you sky people slaughter so many of my people?”
“We didn’t kill your people,” said Alyssa, holding up a hand. “Those were our enemies. They came from space to take you, so they might gain the secrets of the ancients. Then we came to try to rescue you.”
“I have no secrets to give either of you,” said the Monk, his face calming some, though his eyes remained angry. “You are the ancients, so how could I have secrets to give to you? How could my people have secrets to give to you?”
Alyssa watched the man closely. His muscles tensed just a bit, but he wasn’t going to telegraph his intentions. Not with the training he had. She would only know when he had made his move when he started it. And the way she had seen him move in the battle, she thought his first move might be her last. Would he really kill me? she wondered, hoping that he didn’t have that in him. Again she remembered the battle she watched, when this man had cut his way through the enemy army to take revenge on the soldier who had killed his leader. At least this time he didn’t have that ancient sword with him. Alyssa wasn’t sure she would have been able to even face him if he did.
Get ready Shadow, she sent to the cat, while preparing to fire with the pistol that was in her hand but not yet pointed at the man. She would never get a chance to point it. The man moved much too fast for her to react, despite her own augmentation.
* * *
Patrick didn’t like the way this conversation was going. He didn’t trust these people at all. He knew they had saved his life, but he wasn’t sure what part they had in the slaughter of so many people on the surface of the planet. This beautiful woman stood in front of him with an obvious weapon in her hand. And he knew that the cat was a weapon as well.
I need to take control of this situation, he thought, slipping his mind into the Fae. Everything slowed down around him, and he gained total awareness of his body. Something still seemed wrong as far as his kinesiology was concerned. He had trained for many years with a body that responded to his every wish. To have it changed underneath him was disconcerting. But it was what he had to work with, so it would have to do.
The Monk went from a standing posture to an attack faster than an eye could close. He jumped forward, his leg cocking back, and aimed at the woman. He cried out as his head scraped the ceiling, something he had not planned on and a major distraction. The next distraction came when the kick missed the target, and not because of her countermove, which was too late.
Damn, he thought as he landed on his feet. He had gone too high, and because of that he was in the air too long. His hand reached on while he spun his body, and he did succeed in slapping the pistol out of her hand. And then he felt the slight pain on his foot, and looked down to see that the cat had scratched him with a single claw on the top of his pedal extremity.
Shit, he thought, trying to kick at the animal and get it away from him. But the leg wouldn’t move, and he felt his muscles go first rigid, then slack. The woman was at his side in a moment, lowering him to the ground.
“We aren’t your enemies,” she said, helping him softly to the floor. “Maybe you’ll see that after some more education.”
Patrick didn’t like the sound of that. They had already put things in his head while he was injured, during the repairs that had changed his body. How was he to know what were his own thoughts, and what were placed within his head? The answer was, he wouldn’t.
“We aren’t the bad guys,” said the dark woman, with her unusual black eyes and hair. “If we wanted to harm you we would have. We might even be able to help your world, before it…” She stopped there, her mouth closing as if she had said too much. She picked Patrick up with surprising strength and carried him to one of the chairs that had a control board in front of it, then set him in the chair and made sure he was in a secure sitting position.
“Now you watch what it shows you,” she said with a smile. “And then make up your own mind. We will not try to make you think something you wouldn’t believe, unlike those of the Theocracy. I will be back in a little while. Shadow will keep you company.”
She turned and left, while the cat jumped into his lap and turned until it found a comfortable position. Patrick looked down at the animal that had paralyzed him, angry at the thought that it was treating him like a bed. Soon the animal was laying there breathing rhythmically, a slight vibration coming with each breath. And he realized he couldn’t stay angry with the beautiful animal that,. after all, was just protecting its mistress.
Then the window out into the water changed, a new background appearing on it, then figures, then sound. In seconds Patrick was caught up in the presentation, that showed a short history of the two warring empires, and the century of war.
Patrick wondered how much of this was propaganda, and which the truth. The way it was presented the Theocracy was made up of a bunch of evil bastards leading the misguided. And the Republic was made up of the rational leaders and their freedom loving subjects. And he wondered again how far from the truth either of those viewpoints were skewed.
Chapter Eight
Sean O’Hara was strapped down in the chair in a room of the strange vessel, several tubes stuck into his body. A large view screen was to his front, and he couldn’t close his eyes to the images presented no matter how hard he tried. A relaxed feeling flowed over him with the warmth of whatever they were putting in through the tubes.
He watched the vid to his front which showed the evil peoples of the Republic, who in their illusion of freedom developed a moral code in which anything went. He watched a planet in anarchy, which wasted its resources and then sought those of its neighbors to survive. Republic ships landed on worlds that were much more primitive than its own, and took the fruits of the peoples labors, and the wealth of the crust. They enslaved other peoples, making them work themselves to death in the farms and mines, while the folk of the home world lived lives of drunken idol
atry off the sweat of the conquered people’s brows. He saw men rape their own daughters while the mothers looked on in drugged satisfaction, men fight it out in bars over their luck in gambling, of strong men taking what they wanted from those weaker, as the plague that was the Republic spread across space from system to system.
I don’t believe this shit, thought Sean, thinking back to how he had seen these people, the enemies of this so called out of control republic, slaughter thousands with the futuristic weapons. And they had taken him to the Monastery, killing all the inhabitants, so he could open some repository and these people could steal whatever was in it. His head hurt at that thought, and the memories blurred just a little.
The vid changed, and now he was looking at the planet of this Theocracy. It was presented as a happy planet of satisfied people, all worshiping their God while respecting the beliefs of others. The people prospered, despite the poor natural resources of the world, and they raised great cities of glass and steel to the sky. There was a scene of another spaceship, his mind told him it was from the Republic, dropping a great weapon from orbit that went off with the fury of a star, incinerating millions while it melted the great towers to the ground.
The next scene was of the Republic mistreating the slaves that worked so hard on their planets, their sweat giving the overlords their riches. Meanwhile, the Theocracy sacrificed to raise a fleet that could challenge the Republic, its people giving up even the necessities to build the ships needed to fight a massive war across systems.
This is total crap, again thought Sean, glaring at the screen. His head began to ache again, and his memories again blurred. The screen switched again to show great battles in space. The Theocracy ships fought valiantly, according to the civilized rules of war, treating prisoners well. The Republic ships slaughtered captured crews and pulled tricks that no civilized power would countenance.
Theocracy: Book 1. Page 7