Shalia's Diary Omnibus

by Tracy St. John

Oses spoke with the Dantovonian and the timbre of their voices let me know they weren’t exchanging cookie recipes. Something was up, and it wasn’t necessarily good.

  Oses’s forehead creased. His frown made him appear as savage as when he’d snapped Finiuld’s neck. Still, there was more an air of disgust than outright despair coming from my friend.

  “What’s the latest news flash?” I asked as soon as his conversation with Lurb ended.

  Oses drew a deep breath. “There is good news, and there is bad news. The good news is that Lurb understands how the phase device operates. He assures me that we can use this device to get ourselves and the rest out.”

  I was delighted to hear that but stayed cautious. “What’s the bad news?”

  “It only works is if it is on Finiuld. It’s configured to his biology alone. It’ll respond to your wishes to phase, but only if he’s wearing it and you’re holding onto him.”

  I gaped at Oses. “Me? Why me?”

  The Nobek tapped a finger against his collar. “Because until we switch this off at the source, I can’t touch him without triggering the torture command. That remains in effect.”

  I looked down at the body at our feet. Sure, I could lug the Little Creep so that we could move about the ship, but he was dead. Toting a corpse like some macabre purse was the last damned thing I wanted to do.

  “Son of a bitch,” I swore. “Lurb, you don’t know of any other method to force that damned phase to work for us?”

  Lurb spoke no English, but I suppose he guessed what I’d asked. He shook his segmented head at me. That was that.

  “All right,” Oses said. “The easiest way for you to carry Finiuld is across the back of your shoulders.”

  “We call it a fireman’s carry,” I supplied, trying to distract myself with inane factoids. I wasn’t happy about the situation, but whining about it wasn’t going to get us out of there.

  “We’ll go to Finiuld’s quarters and shut off the collars, except for those belonging to the Tragooms. In fact, we’ll have it torment them if they touch us, the same as it worked for Finiuld.”

  “Good idea,” I eyed the Tragoom in our merry little group. He shuffled in his habitat, probably understanding Oses wasn’t about to let him loose.

  “Then we’ll find the bridge and see where the hell we are. If we can start for the space station or contact a Kalquorian vessel, we’ll do so. Once we’ve got that underway, we’ll free everyone.”

  “Except the Tragooms.”

  “Except the Tragooms. Let me tell Lurb, and he can pass along the information to those whose languages he speaks.”

  I approved of Oses’s plan. It was easy, the best kind. Our biggest worry was reaching the collar command controls without running into Finiuld’s Tragoom guards. That and having to carry the Little Creep’s carcass all over the place.

  I’d forgotten that successful, easy plans and Shalia are seldom in the same vicinity. Sometimes I think I’m cursed.

  It was up to me to pick up Finiuld’s body and sling it over my shoulders. Oses couldn’t help except to tell me how to execute a proper lift that wouldn’t throw out my back.

  Finiuld only stood to my mid-thigh, but that bugger was heavier than he looked. I was huffing and puffing and sweating before I had him lying across the nape of my neck and my shoulders.

  Then there was the gross factor. The Little Creep was limp and lifeless. His belly lay against the nape of my neck, and his arms and legs draped down my chest and ribcage. It didn’t help my state of mind that the occasional shift put my boob in his palm. Plus there was the matter of his wrong-facing head pointing up. My skin crawled at his glassy stare. His tongue hung out of his open mouth.

  “All right?” Oses asked me when I had Finiuld arranged like a grotesque stole.

  “Let’s get this the fuck over with,” I snarled. I couldn’t finish our escape fast enough.

  I went to the containment wall, with Oses behind me. He put his hand on my back, avoiding contact with Finiuld. I took a deep breath and stepped forward. Oses and I passed through the barrier with no problem.

  Our fellow prisoners erupted in cheers, with the exception of the Tragoom. He wasn’t so happy, seeing as how he wouldn’t be sharing in our ‘Get out of Jail Free’ card. Fuck him. I grinned up at Oses.

  “We’ll return for you once we have taken over the ship,” Oses promised our fellow inmates. That got another cheer. The Isetacian swung from his vines with such abandon, I thought he’d break his neck before we returned.

  We left the place of our imprisonment, hurrying down the route I’d memorized that led to Finiuld’s bedroom. Walking at Oses’s side, his hand on my back, my spirits lifted. Our escape was assured. It wasn’t important that I carried a dead body. It didn’t matter that Finiuld’s skull bounced in freakish ways as I moved. It was meaningless that my neck and shoulders ached from the weight on them. We were free. We’d made it.

  We walked through a wall, entering a room where trays moved down assembly-line belts. Machines with spouts poured the meals we and our fellow prisoners were served onto the platters. Seeing this room had given me a sense of relief. We were on the right track. My biggest fear was that I wouldn’t be able to find Finiuld’s quarters. So far, so good.

  Walking through the next wall would take us into a long corridor. I told Oses about it as we approached.

  “There’s a picture of a really old and ugly Ofetuchan to the left of the spot that’ll take us into Finiuld’s room,” I chattered. “And before you say anything, I realize all these bastards are ugly. The man in the portrait is more so than the others I’ve seen.”

  Oses laughed, and we passed through the wall. The corridor was there, as I’d remembered. So were two collared Tragooms and the female Ofetuchan who’d hated me in the Arena. The green-haired woman named Glidas.

  We all froze. After a moment of shock, Glidas shrilled, “What are you doing loose on my ship?”

  I had no time to contemplate that she had called the vessel hers. The next second she noticed what I wore on my shoulders.

  “Finiuld!”

  Thank heavens Oses’s startled state lasted only a couple of seconds. Glidas hadn’t finished her shocked scream when the Nobek launched himself at the Tragooms.

  He was smart enough to go for the knife one wore on a bandoleer strapped across its thick chest. In an instant, blood sprayed, Tragooms shrieked, and Glidas yelled the command to set off the collars.

  All three combatants hit the floor, howling in misery. I regained my own presence of mind and shouted, “Oses’s collar, off!”

  An instant later, Oses was on his feet, snarling. He went for the writhing Tragooms once again as Glidas stared at me in disbelief. She spun to flee.

  I can’t say where the strength came from, but I heaved Finiuld from off my shoulders and hurled him at Glidas. I ran after her without waiting for the bodies to collide. If she got to the collar controls and switched mine on, we were fucked.

  I’d hoped Finiuld would hit her about mid-back, but that little bitch was so close to the ground that my aim was off. Yet, his limp arms clipped the top of her head as he sailed over her, and she stumbled. I caught her easily.

  Amped up with adrenaline and fear of being re-captured, I grabbed hold of Glidas and smashed her face-first against the floor. At some point I registered I was repeatedly bashing her skull against the ground. I don’t know how long I’d been at it, but my arms ached from fatigue.

  Oses’s voice dragged me from my desperate terror. “Stop, Shalia. Stop. It’s over. Stop.”

  My mind returned from whatever distant place it had gone, taking up residence once more within my skull. I became aware of Oses’s hands on my shoulders. I looked down at the Ofetuchan, whose head I clutched between my hands. When I saw the flesh, bone, and greenish-red fluids on the floor, I puked.

  Once my stomach was empty, I filed away the horror of the bodies lying in the corridor and the fact that one of them was dead because of my violence. I had
to push it aside, or my sanity would have left again. It might not have ever been restored, had I not made myself blind and dumb to what I’d done.

  I let Oses help me to my feet. He used his skirt to gently wipe my mouth off. “Are you okay?”

  He had flecks of blood dotting his cheeks. Carnage, carnage, everywhere. I was so tired of blood and guts.

  I had this funny distant feeling in my mind, similar to the disconnect I’d experienced when I’d allowed Oses to torture the Earther man Finiuld had captured. I was in danger of taking a major mental vacation. I had to escape from that corridor, where the Tragooms stank of blood and shit, and a recently living being’s brains were splattered on the floor beneath me.

  “Let’s get to Finiuld’s quarters,” I said. “I need to keep moving.”

  Oses nodded. He didn’t speak, probably because there was nothing he could say that would make my mind right.

  Going to the Little Creep’s room meant carting him around on my shoulders again. At least he wasn’t leaking anywhere. I made that count as I hefted the unwelcome weight once more. For some reason, Oses took Glidas’s phase device off her and kept that. It would be useless to him, but I didn’t question him about it either. It was too much effort.

  I managed to lead us to our destination without any problem, probably because I concentrated so hard on my task. Minutiae at that point was my saving grace. It kept me from thinking of what I’d seen and done. Placing one foot in front of the other, searching for that particular portrait in the corridor, and deciding exactly at what point we should pass through the wall were wonderful distractions from the horror of what had gone before. With Oses’s hand on the small of my back, we stepped into Finiuld’s quarters.

  I should have been proud for us to have survived. At the very least, I should have been cheering in celebration. All I felt was tired, however. Tired and used up.

  I let go of Finiuld’s corpse and let it drop to the floor. The softness of that surface emitted a soft thud when he hit. I swear, I could still feel his weight on me, though. I even checked to make sure I’d really unloaded him. He stared up at me, his head facing the wrong damned way, a grotesque broken doll. I thought I would puke again, but I was too exhausted for even that.

  “Where is the panel, Shalia?” Oses prodded me. “Show me so we can turn the collars off.”

  His voice was a beacon through the fog that encroached on my mind. I pointed at the silvery desk-looking thing. “There. Access control panel.”

  Once again, the lights, levers, and buttons appeared on the surface of the computer. Oses’s eyes widened in appreciation.

  “You tell it what you want and it obeys?” he asked. “I’m surprised there aren’t better safeguards than that.”

  I shrugged. I was in no shape to think long and hard about how Ofetuchans’ minds worked. “Finiuld probably believed it was safe in his private room. I guess he was sure I hadn’t figured it out since he never switched my collar on again.”

  “What of the female?” Oses wondered out loud. He wasn’t questioning me. “She said this was her ship. Why didn’t she have the device in her quarters? Was Finiuld in charge of them on her behalf?”

  Even though the Nobek seemed to be musing out loud, I had an answer for him. “If these are only for the collars, I doubt she needed controls. It seemed we belonged to Finiuld; not her. Except for those Tragooms she had guarding her, Glidas had nothing to do with the collection, not to my knowledge.”

  “It’s a mystery,” Oses murmured. “But it can be solved later. How did you switch off your collar?”

  “Turn off the collar of Kalquorian Nobek Oses,” I said. “There. That should do it.”

  “It didn’t do shit.” Oses glared at the computer as if it was his most hated enemy. “No acknowledgement. No change in these lights.”

  “I know. But you can touch Finiuld now and it won’t hurt you. Nor will my command, since he gave me that ability over you. Collar, punish Oses.”

  Though my Nobek friend should have been shrieking with agony at my order, he remained standing there, unaffected. A grin spread across his face.

  “Wonderful,” he breathed. Just to be sure, Oses went to Finiuld’s crumpled form and poked at it. He remained pain-free. His sigh of relief filled the room.

  “Should we deactivate the rest?” I asked. “Except the Tragooms, of course.”

  Oses took Finiuld’s phase off his belt and returned to stand before the panel. “De-activate all collars except those of the Tragooms,” he ordered. “Place all command over Tragooms’ collars with Kalquorian Nobek Oses and Earther Shalia Monroe.”

  As usual, the system showed no indication that Oses’s dictates had been received.

  “And now for this.” Oses held up the phase gizmo he’d gotten off Finiuld. “Transfer control of Ofetuchan Finiuld’s phase converter to Kalquorian Nobek Oses.”

  I hoped hard for success. It would be damned handy if it worked, though I’d already decided Oses would be lugging the Little Creep from now on.

  Oses disappeared. I jumped about a mile in sudden panic before I recovered myself. “It worked! I can’t see you anymore.”

  Oses re-appeared. “Excellent. Let’s see if the other will do the same. Transfer control of Ofetuchan Glidas’ phase converter to Earther Shalia Monroe.”

  He handed me the gadget he’d taken off the woman. I thought at it to phase me.

  “Are you trying to phase?” Oses asked.

  “Yeah. Apparently, it’s not working.” I scowled at the gizmo.

  “She must have had her own panel in her quarters. That’s fine; we’ll make do with Finiuld’s until we locate the controls for hers.”

  The shock I’d gotten when Oses phased chased off most of the detached feeling in my brain. It lurked at the edges, promising to sweep in if I experienced too many more shocks, but I felt like myself once more.

  “What’s next?” I asked Oses.

  “Now we take over the vessel. We need to find its bridge.”

  “I wonder how many Tragoom guards we’ll run into?” I worried.

  Oses showed me the knives he’d taken from the two he’d killed. “Don’t worry. If for some reason their collars don’t respond to our orders, I’ll handle it.”

  Oses had the sense to consult Finiuld’s computer for directions to the ship’s command center. When that failed to give us any answers, he requested the vessel’s schematics. Still nothing. We were stuck doing it the hard way. We set off to find the bridge. I quickly lost my bearings, but Oses knew what he was doing. I soon figured out he was systematically searching and committing the layout to memory. I envied him that ability. Most days I’m happy if I can remember what I ate for breakfast.

  As I’d feared, we encountered Tragooms. Fortunately, our commands activated their collars, leaving them writhing, shitting, and squalling all over the floor. We weren’t complete ass-hats about the situation; after a few seconds, we countermanded the pain orders. Nor did Oses expend any extra effort to kill them. We gave them a chance to run in the other direction and leave us alone. Every last one of them did. After half a dozen such encounters, any Tragooms we chanced upon didn’t wait around. They got the hell out of our sight in a hurry. Word was spreading.

  I wasn’t sure if Oses was nearing the end of his rope or simply giddy from our success in breaking free. However, he seemed as thrilled with seeing Tragooms run from him as he did killing them. He snickered from time to time. At least someone enjoyed our bid for escape. I was too stressed to experience any thrill out of it.

  Every wall we passed through brought us to a place where Tragooms were. As a couple more lumbered through the wall across what appeared to be a storage bay, rushing to get away, I noted, “We should go in another direction. They have phase converters and are everywhere in this part of the ship.”

  “Which leads me to believe we are closing in on the bridge.” Oses walked straight for where the Tragooms had exited. “It seems the Ofetuchans do the same thing with thei
r Tragoom slaves that the Bi’isils do. They use them for security.”

  It turned out he was right. The next room we entered had no Tragooms, but two collared Dantovonians and three Adrafs waited for us. The instant we entered, they fell to the floor, as if in worship.

  One Adraf spoke, his speech insanely garbled. Oses must be a linguist of the highest order to have understood him, because he told me, “They beg us to spare them. They are slaves who run the vessel for Glidas. They fear she’ll kill them if they do not attempt to stop us, but the Tragooms have warned them we command the collars. They don’t know what to do.”

  Oses didn’t wait for me to reply. He barked out a few words in his own language instead. I guess he doesn’t speak Adraf. I don’t blame him. I doubt mouths such as ours could form such noises.