“What in God’s name happened to you, son?” said the General, as Henry was helped into his chair.
Henry didn’t respond. He wasn’t sure he could.
“Guard! What the hell happened to this prisoner?”
“Sir!” said the guard, snapping to attention. “He was like this when we found him in his cell this morning, sir.”
“Bullshit!”
Henry did his best to keep up with the interaction between the General and the guard with his right eye, but all he could see was the General glaring at the guard for what seemed like an eternity. Henry had to give the guard credit for standing strong and not shrinking under that glare. In his former life, before he met Zef, Henry was certain he wouldn’t have held up as well.
“Don’t even think about moving your ass,” Alcorn finally said to the guard.
He walked over, opened the door, called for his officers, and then sat back down in front of Henry.
“Son, I think you know pretty clearly how much I think of you …” said Alcorn.
Henry nodded and watched the General’s eyes as he was thoroughly examined by his captor, but he said nothing.
“… but, I do not condone this type of behavior in my men. Torture is never a solution, and … what’s been done to you isn’t even torture, it’s mindless brutality, done in the name of sport.”
Two men entered the room, one with a silver bar on his collar and the other a gold leaf. Henry knew them as Major Wellston and Lieutenant Skinner. They both stood at attention and in one voice said “Sir!”
“Lieutenant,” said Alcorn, in a voice that made it clear to Henry the effort he was making to contain his displeasure. “Please take our prisoner to the infirmary and make sure he is provided the very best in medical care.”
“Yes, sir!”
The general stood up.
“Lieutenant.”
“Sir?”
“The very best care, son. I mean it. Do you understand me?”
“Yes sir!”
He reached down and helped Henry to his feet.
“Come on, let me help you up.”
As they left the room, Henry heard the General say something to the Major about “rounding them up” just before the door shut behind them.
“Yes sir,” the Major replied.
Henry stopped.
“I know that voice,” he said, half under his breath.
It was Wellston! He’s been behind these beatings the whole time.
“Of course you do,” said the Lieutenant, “Major Wellston has been in all of your interrogations.”
Henry stared at the Lieutenant for a second, then caught himself. He shook off the feeling as best he could in his condition.
“Of course, you’re right,” he said, trying to quickly change the subject. “I’m not thinking clearly. What did the General mean by “rounding them up?”“
The lieutenant smiled at that.
“He means that as bad of shape as you’re in, you’re better off than the guys who did this to you are gonna be. Come on, let’s go.”
Henry spent the next nine days in the infirmary, recovering from three broken ribs, a badly swollen eye, and numerous bruises, lacerations, contusions and other wounds he couldn’t pronounce, but that hurt just as badly. In the end, he was informed by his doctor that he’d been quite fortunate, as none of the injuries were severe enough to cause any permanent damage. Henry had never believed, nor disbelieved, in God, but after this, he was beginning to think someone, or something, had to be watching out for him.
By the fourth day, he’d recovered enough to spend more time awake than asleep. He took advantage of that time by reflecting on all that had happened since that day in the clearing.
General Alcorn had wanted to know everything that had taken place that day, from the time Henry first saw Zef’s ship begin its descent, to the time the General and his troops showed up. He didn’t know why the General was so interested in hearing the whole story. It wasn’t like there was much to tell. He also wasn’t all that sure as to why he hadn’t just told Alcorn everything from the very beginning. He supposed he was just being obstinate, being uncooperative because of the way they had treated him, and the way they had treated Zef. But then, after a while, it became more a test of wills, a contest to see who could hold out the longest. More recently, when the beatings began, it somehow seemed a moral imperative not to say anything, as if his very soul would be lost if he gave in. The more he thought about it, lying there in that hospital bed, the more he believed that part, at least, to be true.
But he also knew that Alcorn wasn’t behind the beatings. Even before witnessing the General’s reaction to his condition, Henry knew Alcorn would never condone such actions. He didn’t know exactly how he knew it, he just did. It was something he could sense about the man. Alcorn was as tough as nails, and he was pretty sure they would never like one another very much, but the General was also a fair man, even to those who disagreed with him. Now that he knew Major Wellston was involved, he had to let the General know somehow. He had to get him alone, without Wellston or any of the other officers who seemed to cling to Alcorn like a fungus.
“The doctors tell me you’re healing well,” said a voice from the doorway, interrupting his train of thought. Henry looked up from his bed and standing there, as if on cue, was General Theodore Eustace Alcorn.
Chapter 36
I Want to Hear Her Voice
Gsefx stood frozen, staring at the screen where the image of his beloved Lhvunsa had appeared just moments before, with a razor sharp spike at her throat and terror in her eyes. He couldn’t move. He knew what he had to do and that he didn’t have much time to do it, but he couldn’t seem to make any of his limbs move, even just a little. After what felt like an eternity, the vidcon buzzed again with the same unknown number. He answered, but this time no image appeared, just the same cold, threatening voice.
“The clock is ticking,” it said, “and you’re wasting time.”
“I want to speak to her,” Gsefx said suddenly. “I want to hear her voice.”
“A reasonable request.”
“Gsefx!” It was Lhvunsa. “Help me, Gsefx!”
“I’m afraid that’s all you have time for,” said the voice. “Now get moving.”
The vidcon went silent.
This time Gsefx moved without hesitation. He grabbed the coordinates from the table, stuffed them in his pocket, and headed for the door. He stopped before reaching it. Something inside him insisted he slow down and think through what he was about to do, regardless of the urgency. That something was Lhvunsa herself. It was her voice inside his head, the one she always used whenever she tried to convince him how unproductive it was to act rashly. If he had listened to that voice the day Qilzar had fired him, she wouldn’t be a prisoner right now. None of them would be in this mess.
He pulled the coordinates out of his pocket and quickly pulled them up on his computer. As he suspected, they were for Mindaal, which meant the Ricnor Gang now had both Lhvunsa and Qilzar.
It also meant that, since it would take Gsefx much longer than two sars to reach Mindaal—at least five by his calculations—there was no way he could deliver the painting to them on time. Of course, they knew that was the case, which meant they had no intention of letting any of them live and he was walking into a trap. Gsefx was likely being watched right now. As soon as he led them to the painting, their lives would be over, his, Lhvunsa’s, and Qilzar’s.
Qilzar, that miserable little womble. If we all get out of this in one piece, I might just kill him myself. He looked around his house. Until then, I need a plan, and I need it now.
He ran into the bedroom and flipped the bed over. On the floor near where he usually slept was the scrambler he kept within arm’s reach. It wasn’t meant to be a deadly weapon, although at a close enough range, and if used for an extended period of time, a scrambler could potentially kill. Rather, a scrambler was meant to render an intruder unconscious long enough
for the authorities to arrive. Gsefx hadn’t had the occasion to use it yet, but Lhvunsa had been so shaken up by the break-in, he felt he needed something to help him defend her if something like that ever happened again. He wasn’t sure if she knew that he’d purchased the scrambler, or if she would approve, but he was sure glad he had it now. He stuffed it in his pocket and ran out the door.
Gsefx piloted his way in silence to the storage facility where he kept the painting. Since his return from Earth, he no longer listened to the music that had once played such a large part in his life, especially the albalan music native to Earth. Its once pleasurable effect now gone, he found it more distracting than anything else, especially as he focused on more pressing matters, like his work and what was going to happen with the painting.
As beautiful as the painting was, and as moved as he was when Henree had given it to him, he’d lost count of how many times he’d wished he’d never laid eyes on it. It had brought nothing but grief and misery since he brought it back with him. When Henree first handed it to him, after he recovered from his initial shock, he remembered thinking how great it would look in the main living area of their home. But seeing Qilzar and Lhvunsa’s reaction to it changed everything, and he knew he’d have to lock the painting away, safely out of sight. He’d not even told Lhvunsa where it was, not because he didn’t trust her, but because she didn’t want to know. He briefly considered destroying it, but couldn’t bring himself to do that to Henree’s work. Even if they could never display it, he had to keep it safe.
So he decided to lock it away in the storage facility he’d rented to hold all of the stuff he couldn’t bear to part with, but didn’t have room for in their home. He first started renting the facility when Lhvunsa threatened to throw away the military spacecraft models he had scattered about. Model building had been his latest hobby at the time and, combined with several of his previous hobbies, his “junk was taking over their home” as his wife had so eloquently put it to him. He rented the storage facility to ensure the models and all of the other treasures he couldn’t part with would not mysteriously disappear when he wasn’t paying attention. There were times Gsefx believed that renting the storage facility was perhaps the single best financial investment he’d ever made in their marriage. He knew better than to ask Lhvunsa, but he was pretty certain she would agree.
Gsefx reached the facility and parked his vehicle, being careful not to show that he was aware of the dark-gray, multi-passenger vehicle that had been following him, and was now parked just around the corner behind him. Gsefx went inside, but instead of going to his private storage unit, he went to the other end of the building and back out the other side. Working his way back around to the front as quietly as possible, Gsefx crept back to the corner where his vehicle was parked and waited in the shadows for something to happen. He wasn’t sure what, but he hoped he would know it when he saw it. He didn’t have to wait long.
It was difficult to see who or what it was at first, it moved very quickly and blended in with the environment—an eye less trained for detail might have missed it. It helped that one of Gsefx’s Galacticount co-workers was also a Yelton. He’d been scared enough times in the break room by that little prankster to know how to watch for him. So when he saw the ever-so-slight rippling motion slide by his vehicle, he raised his scrambler and fired.
A brief high-pitched shriek pierced the otherwise still Clangdorian night air, followed by the sound of his stalker falling to the ground unconscious and fully visible. Gsefx took a step from behind the building, froze suddenly, and then jumped back into the shadows. Were there more of them? Surely they wouldn’t send just one? But, then again, Gsefx was just an accountant, hardly one to be feared. Why send a whole army after him? He waited a few ebyts more, then slowly made his way out to the unconscious thug lying next to his vehicle.
“I wonder how long he’ll be out?” he said quietly to himself.
“About another ten ebyts,” said a deep voice behind him, “if that’s a standard, over-the-counter scrambler. I told him to watch out, but he said not to worry, you’re just an accountant. Now look at him. What an idiot. He’ll never live this one down.”
Without moving his body, and as gently as he could, Gsefx moved his hand so the scrambler was pointed back toward this new enemy and fired. Nothing seemed to happen.
“Don’t bother, it won’t work on me,” said the voice, “I’m protected. You’ll have to do better than that if you want to knock me out. Now, toss it over, then put your hands up. All four of ‘em.”
Gsefx did as he was told.
“Now, turn around very slowly, and face me.”
Gsefx turned around, wondering how, or if, he was going to be able to get out of this. When he was face-to-face with his captor, he found himself staring at a Jikian, a being from one of the inner worlds, who wasn’t particularly large or intimidating, but whose race had a reputation for being malicious, mean-spirited creatures. Perhaps it was because Jik was one of the more over-crowded and economically depressed worlds, or perhaps it was because the Jikians as a race were just nasty little beings. In any case, what Gsefx did know for sure was that Jikians were also notoriously big talkers, usually without much to back it up with. If this one hadn’t been pointing an obliterator at his head, Gsefx knew he could easily outmatch him. Without the weapon, all this inner world loudmouth had going for him was attitude and a deep voice. For now, since the obliterator kept things heavily in the Jikian’s favor, he would bide his time and wait for the right opportunity.
“Well,” said Gsefx, “I clearly only have a short time left to live, but I’m guessing you’re on some sort of schedule, so, shall we get on with it?”
“By all means, if you’re in that big of a hurry to die, I don’t mind obliging you. Lead the way. But don’t try anything … understand?”
He said the last by shoving Gsefx around and putting the obliterator against the back of Gsefx’s neck.
“Yes,” said Gsefx. “I understand.”
“Good. Now pick up my partner and let’s get the painting.”
Gsefx bent down and picked up the unconscious body. It was not particularly heavy, but its skin was very rough, prickly almost, and uncomfortable to the touch. He grimaced as he walked toward the front door.
“Don’t complain to me,” said the Jikian. “You’re the one who knocked him out.”
When they reached the door, Gsefx had to shift the body around a bit while he opened it, but it wasn’t enough to be able to get at his captor. Not yet.
They went down several corridors until they found his storage unit. Gsefx dropped his burden unceremoniously, then stepped over the body to the lock.
“Hey, no funny business,” said the Jikian.
“No funny business,” said Gsefx, hands raised. “I’m just opening the lock. It requires a DNA sample, just like almost any other lock in the galaxy.”
“Okay, just stay where I can see you.”
“Sure thing.”
As Gsefx put his hand up to the lock, his mind raced.
What in the galaxy am I going to do? Once the lock is open, the door will rise and the painting will be visible. As soon as that happens, this goon is going to kill me. Then Lhvunsa and Qilzar are next. Gods, what can I do?
He hesitated, but only for a moment before the deep voice behind him reminded him of the precariousness of his situation.
“What’s the hold up? Not trying to think of some way out of this are you?” he said. “Because you know there isn’t one. Now open the lock and let’s get on with it.”
Gsefx nodded his head, unable to speak with his heart stuck in his throat. Then, just before he activated the lock, just when he didn’t think it could get any worse, he heard the lump of unconscious flesh laying on the ground behind him begin to stir. His heart fell from his throat down through his stomach, broke into four equal parts and sank into all four of his knees.
“It’s about time you woke up, you useless pile of sludge,” said the J
ikian to his waking partner in crime.
“Whoa, what in the galaxy …”
“You got hit with a scrambler, you idiot. Wait ‘till the boys hear about this—the great Klarnus getting taken out by an over-the-counter child’s toy.”
Gsefx remained with his hand above the lock, waiting to see what happened next, knowing his time was almost up, as was Lhvunsa’s.
“A scrambler? Why you little …”
Klarnus tried to get up, but finding his body uncooperative, fell immediately back to the floor. At this, the Jikian burst into laughter. Not just any laughter, but the kind usually reserved only for those who themselves have been the victim of someone else’s jokes for far too long.
“Quit laughing, Dilnch, you Jikian welt, and help me up,” said Klarnus, still trying to get to his feet.
As Dilnch laughed even harder and Klarnus continued his struggle to stand upright, Gsefx took a chance, reacting more on instinct than anything else. He activated the lock, sending the door to the storage unit sliding noisily upward, momentarily startling his preoccupied captors. In that split second of confusion, Gsefx whipped around and grabbed the still dazed Yelton by what passed for his shoulders and pulled him up, just in time to deflect the shot that came from Dilnch’s obliterator.
While Dilnch’s weapon recharged, Gsefx threw the limp body of Klarnus at what was now nothing more than a glass-jawed, inner world loudmouth, knocking him over and sprawling both of Ricnor’s thugs in a pile on the floor. Gsefx ran over and stepped on the arm that was still holding the obliterator.
“I figured you had it programmed with the entire gang’s DNA, so I didn’t think it would permanently damage you,” said Gsefx to the Yelton, who was still struggling to get up. “Klarnus, is it? But I was hoping you would make a good deflector. Thankfully, I was right.”
Your Truth is Out There (Find Your Truth Book 1) Page 13