“You lie to me,” said Sean under his breath, and his head ached once again. He was sure now that they were doing something to his brain. Something to make him think and act the way they wanted him to. He didn’t want them to do that to him, but he didn’t know any way that he could stop them. No way at all. Except to resist and keep going through flashes of pain when they did whatever they were doing to his mind.
* * *
“He has a strong mind, my lord,” said the med tech, looking at the primitive on a viewer.
Colonel Nathan Chung nodded as he looked at the face wracked with pain. The man was strong. “But then again he comes from a strong people,” said the Colonel, nodding toward the screen. “Not a people coddled by technology like ours. His people must struggle for a living, and a warrior who makes it to his late twenties and beyond has developed inner strength. Something we and the Republic both have lost.”
The med tech stared at Chung as if he didn’t know what to make of the statement.
“Keep at him until he is ours,” said Chung, looking on the tech with cold eyes. “No matter how long it takes. We must have him on our side.”
The med tech nodded, a fearful look on his face. Chung smiled at that look. He liked to see that look on the faces of others, especially when he inspired it.
Chung walked the short corridor to the bridge of the exploration/spy ship. They were hidden away on the smallest of the inner moons of the gas giant. This moon would probably be an addition to the ring system in slightly more than a year, followed by the other body maybe two years later, as they both moved in under the pull of gravity. And then the moon they had taken the young warrior from, six to nine years later. That was a tragedy in the Colonel’s mind. So many slaves to take, and resources. It would take a while to train the natives up to speed. But it had taken longer for some of the other worlds the Theocracy had conquered, the bronze and iron age civilizations.
We did them a favor, thought the Colonel, remembering the great pyramids of one planet, basting under the white star of its primary. Sure, now they worked like, well, slaves. But they also enjoyed longer life spans thanks to the medical skills of the Theocracy. Which helped the Theocracy as well, as longer lived slaves meant that skilled workers lasted longer at their jobs. It’s the way of the Universe, thought the Colonel, walking onto the bridge and relishing the crewmen jumping to their feet. And the way of the Theocracy. In his mind it was the only way, the manner in which the chaotic Galaxy would again rise to unity.
“Get me the Admiral on the com,” ordered Chung, and the com tech almost jumped through the ceiling to get the connection made.
Within an instant the face of Admiral Bishop Gruber was on the screen. He didn’t look happy at being disturbed before an action. Chung really didn’t care about the man’s emotional state, as long as he did his part to carry out the mission. He also knew he couldn’t afford to push too hard. Gruber had his own contacts on the Theocracy Council.
“How long till we make contact with the enemy?” asked Chung, giving the Admiral a steady gaze over the com.
“About one hour and twenty-two minutes,” said the Admiral. “Give or take a couple of minutes, depending on when they actually open fire. Or when we do.”
“So,” said Chung, trying to keep his anger under control while looking at another screen that showed all the ships in orbit around moon, which had reduced to almost none over the last couple of minutes. “Why have you recalled the shuttles that were searching the moon?”
“It was my professional opinion that those men needed to be back on their ships before the battle was joined,” said the Admiral, his eyes narrowing. “And that didn’t mean rushing them back at the last minute, where some of the shuttles might be picked off in space.”
“You outnumber the approaching enemy,” said Chung, taking a deep breath to calm himself down before he started to shout at a nominally superior officer. “You could win that battle without those men. So why have you taken them from a mission critical task?”
“Yes, we outnumber the current approaching task force,” said the Admiral, his face red and jaw set. “Yes, we can defeat them even without the men I had detailed to your search mission. But I can probably defeat them with fewer losses to our force if I have those men aboard manning systems or damage control.”
“I am really not concerned with your losses,” said Chung, barely keeping his voice below a shout. “I have a mission to complete, and I need those shuttles and their crews.”
“Now listen here, Chung,” said the Admiral, his own voice turning into a yell. “I am damned tired of you telling me what to do. I have already fought one enemy force, and their survivors are regrouping at one of the other moons. I expect they will be hitting us again in the near future. And there is a stronger force than either of these two coming fifteen hours behind. So I will fight my force as I see fit. Is that understood, Colonel?” The last was delivered in a shout, the red faced officer glaring into the screen.
“If the Republicans get the man we seek off of the moon than none of your casualties mean anything,” shouted back the Colonel. “We need to assure that this does not happen. We…”
Chung stopped talking as the screen went blank. He cursed under his breath and glared at the com tech. “Get him back on the com. I am not finished.”
The com tech nodded and went to work, talking, then shouting into the com. He looked nervously over at his commander. “The Admiral is refusing to take any of your calls,” said the man, his face pale.
“Then get the damned Flag Captain on,” said Chung, feeling his own face heat again.
“The Flag Captain refuses to accept any of your calls,” said the com tech, looking decidedly nervous.
“Get me someone,” said the Colonel, shouting loud enough that all eyes were drawn to him.
The com tech nodded and started speaking into the com. Finally a sneering man was brought onto the screen, looking down his nose at Chung, fueling the Colonel’s anger.
“This is Lt. Commander Clawson,” said the man in a tone that raised Chung’s temper even higher. “What can I do for you, Colonel Chung?”
“I want to talk to that damned Admiral,” said Chung, glaring at the man. “And I want to talk with him right now.”
“The Admiral has left orders that he is not to be disturbed by you, Colonel,” said the com officer with a sneer. “At least until after the battle is concluded.”
“Well, I order you to put me through to him, you fucking puppy,” said the Colonel, losing his temper once again.
“You are not in my chain of command, Colonel,” said the officer, his expression becoming even more condescending.
“Then get me the Flag Captain,” yelled Chung, glaring his anger at the man to no avail.
“Captain Sorter has also left orders that he is not to be disturbed by anything other that fleet operational business until after the battle is concluded. And I cannot obey your orders to disobey his orders, because you…”
“Are not in your chain of command,” finished Chung with a growl. “There will be Hell to pay for this, Commander. Believe me. When I get in touch with my command, there will be hell to pay.”
“And that will take what?” asked the man, the sneer returning to his face. “Sixty hours each way. So say over a hundred and twenty hours. I will tell the Admiral when I have a chance, but I’m sure he will not be too concerned. Not, I have to be going. There is important traffic to handle.”
“Now wait a second,” said Chung, raising a hand to point at the screen. But there was no one to talk to, the screen was covered with the glowing Face of God symbol of the Church, and the Colonel’s words fell on empty ears. Chung cursed to himself once again, then turned to the ship’s commander.
“Lt. Commander,” he said in a tone that brooked no argument. “You will take this ship into the orbit of the moon and continue the search for the Republican scout.”
“But,” said the man with a stammer. “There’s a battle
to begin soon in this space.”
“And your point is?” said Chung coldly, locking eyes with the lower ranking officer.
“We will be at risk out there,” said the Commander, his face covered in sweat.
“And you will be at risk here if you don’t obey my orders,” said Chung, walking up and putting his face in the smaller man’s. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes, my lord,” said the Commander, nodding his head furiously. “It will be as you say.”
“Of course it will,” said Chung, walking away from the man. He headed for the bridge hatch, thinking he might go see the native and find out how the brain washing was progressing. At least that man has courage, thought the Colonel, turning and taking in one last look at the bridge while they prepared to make way.
Chapter Nine
“And how are we doing?” asked the dark haired woman, the dark skinned man following behind her.
Patrick turned his head to look at her. The cat was in his lap, and the silky furred beast meowed and jumped to the floor, running to the woman and rubbing up against her legs.
“I have just been sitting here watching what you wanted me to watch,” he told her, frowning. “And I’m not sure how much of it is truth.”
The cat turned around and jumped back onto Patrick’s lap, its green eyes staring into his. He wasn’t sure if he trusted these people, but seeing this wonderful animal made him want to trust them.
“We have only shown you the truth,” said the woman, walking up to him. “I have not attempted any brain washing techniques on you, like our enemies would have. Nor have we harmed you, but instead have saved your life.”
“I have to admit that this animal saved my life,” said Patrick, moving a hand that was still weak and running it down the spine of the cat. A deep purring erupted from the small beast, bringing a smile from the man. “How did this creature kill those other demons?”
The woman looked at him with a confused look on her face for a moment, until the man behind her spoke. “He must mean the Maurids.”
“Oh,” said the woman, recognition in her eyes. “I can understand why you might think they were demons. But they were natural creatures. Intelligent creatures. Just a different species.”
Aliens, thought Patrick, trying to work his mind around the idea that was talked about in the ancient texts. They were alien creatures. Such as the ancients used to battle against, and sometimes fight beside.
“As to how Shadow dispatched them,” continued the woman, nodding toward the cat. “He has special glands in each paw, each attached to a different claw. He struck the Maurids with a fast acting poison that froze their muscles and stopped their breathing.”
“And what did he use against me?” asked the Monk, his hand going still on the cat.
“On the battlefield, he injected a pain killer into you, then a sleep drug. On the ship he paralyzed your muscles, all except your lungs and heart, with a fourth drug.”
“And the fifth substance?”
“You definitely don’t want to be injected with that one,” said the man, coming around to stand beside the woman. “It’s a combination truth serum and pain causing drug. It’s hell on the system.”
“So you see,” said the woman, holding out her open hands. “If I had meant you harm, I wouldn’t have killed those who were about to end you, and then took your pain away and sent you into a healing sleep. And I wouldn’t have put you in our healing tanks to make you whole.”
“But the cat did this,” said the Monk, looking intently at the animal, which return his gaze with an unblinking look. “At least on the world. Why do you speak as if you did it?”
“Because I told the cat to do it,” said the woman, giving him a curious look.
“How did you tell the cat to do it?” asked Patrick, confused.
“Because the cat is connected to me,” said the woman. “I see through its eyes, hear through its ears, and it does the same with mine. And my thoughts are heard by its mind.”
Patrick looked down at the cat for a moment, wondering if it too was a demon.
“Don’t be such a primitive,” said the woman, looking at the cat, which jumped off the Monk’s lap and onto the floor, then up to her arms. “It’s science. Not voodoo or mumbo jumbo. Pure science and technology. Just like the ancients had.”
“We don’t have that technology,” said the Monk with a grimace. “All we have are the stories and legends that make that science seem like magic.”
The Monk sat there for a moment in thought, wondering how far he could trust these people. They had saved his life, after all, and had healed him of all his injuries. They had even improved his body, though he wasn’t sure for what purpose. And they had treated him well since he had come aboard. True, the cat had paralyzed him, but only when he attacked its mistress. Then he thought for a second about all the tech he had seen, and the legends. How was he to know that they had not bewitched him? The point was that he wouldn’t. But if they had, there was nothing he could do about it. Plus, it did not feel like what the legends told of bewitchment, brainwashing or reprogramming they called it. If that had been done to him, he would not even be considering it. He would be their toy, plain and simple, theirs to do with as they pleased. Unless they were not very good at it, which didn’t seem to mesh with the other wonders he had seen.
“Why did you change my body?” he asked, waiting for an answer his senses could tell were a falsehood.
“This is a very low gravity world,” said the man, whose name he had been told was Derrick. “Your body is weak compared to ours. Or maybe not yours in particular, but your people in general. And we thought that it would be a good idea for you to be stronger.”
“But why?” asked Patrick, his senses telling him that the man was not comfortable with the subject, though he had not told any outright lies.
“Because we wanted to take you off world,” said the woman, who also seemed uncomfortable, but was telling the truth despite her anxiety with the subject. “Our ships develop forces much higher than the gravitational force of your world, and we thought it would be better if you had the body of a heavy gravity dweller. It would make it easier on you.”
“A Monk is very much attuned to his body,” said Patrick with a scowl, thinking of what they had told him. “You have actually weakened me by giving me greater muscular mass. Sure, I will be able to pick up heavier objects, and maybe move around more easily in this heavier gravity field, if I understand the term correctly. But my Kinesiology will be off, and I will not be as effective a fighter.”
“But you can work on that, can you not?” asked Derrick, looking away for a moment to a panel that was flashing, then back at the monk with a frown on his face. “You can get used to your new body. I really don’t think you could get used to the forces of acceleration crushing you back into your couch.”
“And why would I need to undergo this, acceleration?” asked Patrick, trying to visualize what they were talking about and failing.
“You are valuable to us,” said the woman, Alyssa, giving him a guilty look. “We would have kidnapped you if you hadn’t come along voluntarily. And you had not been injured. You are needed, by us. By the Universe.”
“But why?” asked Patrick, not seeing why he would be necessary to anything. Then his agile mind pulled up the answer before they could give it. “Because I can open the Vault of the Ancients. And because of that I can open up even more places of the ancients. And you are interested in getting into those places.”
“I told you this boy was sharp,” said Alyssa, looking over at Derrick with a smile. “I don’t think I would have made those connections so fast, in such a dazzling situation.”
“And you don’t want your enemies to get a hold of this technology of the ancients, because it would give them an unfair advantage. While you would like this unfair advantage for yourselves. And why,” said Patrick, looking the woman straight in the eyes, “should I bestow this advantage on either of you?”
“You’ve seen the vids,” said Derrick, his voice rising. “Tell me you could look at those and not pick our side.”
“I know what you showed me,” said Patrick with a nod at the front viewer, which was now a window out onto the ocean again. “I don’t know what you haven’t shown me. And I do not wish to leave my world and my life without a compelling reason.”
“The Theocracy is an organization of lunatics,” said Derrick, leaning over to look eye to eye with the Monk. “They are not a rational society. And they hold your brother captive.”
“As you hold me captive,” said Patrick with a tight smile. “Or are you telling me I’m free to go?”
“If you decide not to join us then you will be,” said Alyssa, putting a hand on Derrick’s shoulder and nudging him back. “On that you have my word. But I need you to think about this carefully. So much is depending on your decision.”
“The fleets will be engaging within the next seventeen minutes,” said Derrick, looking again at the blinking panel and reaching over to push something. The window at the front of the room again became a viewer, and this time the view was of space above the moon.
“Amazing,” said Patrick, leaning forward and taking in the large panorama. It looked three dimensional to him, like a slice of real life presented here for his enjoyment and edification. The view shifted and brought several large objects that had to be space faring vessels into focus. There was an aspect to the ships that made him think of warships, though they didn’t resemble any of the carracks or caravels that he was familiar with. In the distance were the sun bright points of, something.
“Those are the ships of our enemies,” said Alyssa, pointing to the screen. “The bright pinpoints are our own ships, slowing down so that they might come into orbit around this gas giant your world orbits.”
Theocracy: Book 1. Page 8