Scorpions (Star Runners Book 4)

by L. E. Thomas

  “Do not resist,” the voice said soothingly. “I know you are thirsty. You’ve been in your cell for three days. Much longer without water and you will die.” The red straw moved closer to her lips. “Drink.”

  She moved her lips to the straw as if it would strike out. She took a drink, unsure if she took in acid or poison. A voice in the back of her mind said, It doesn’t matter at this point.

  But acid didn’t flow into her mouth. Neither did poison. A fresh stream of water flowed onto her dry tongue. She gulped down the water as fast as possible.

  And the straw pulled away from her lips.

  “I think that is enough for now,” the voice said with the calmness of a doctor viewing a patient. “We have work to do.”

  She pursed her lips. “Let me go,” she breathed, her voice feeling as if her vocal chords were two jagged bones rubbing together. “Please.”

  “I’m afraid I cannot do that.” A pause. She heard what sounded like fingertips rapping on a tablet. “But I’m sure you knew that.”

  A black strap fell across her forehead and tightened.

  “This is for your own safety,” the voice said. “Can’t have you thrashing around before we’re finished. You might end our time together too soon, yes?”

  Ryker clenched her jaw. “What do you want from me?”

  “We’ll get to that in due time.”

  With her head clamped in place, she searched by moving only her eyes. Where was the source of this calm but threatening voice?

  “Show yourself,” she said through her teeth.

  “I would like to direct your attention to your fingers,” the man said as if he hadn’t heard the question. “This is important as we move forward.”

  The arms on the reclined chair moved upward with the sound of whining servos. For the first time, she caught a glimpse of the silver thimbles covering her fingernails. A curling black wire extended from the thimbles and fell out of sight.

  She swallowed. “And what are those?”

  The voice exhaled, and she imagined the man smiling. “Those, my dear Star Runner, are why you are going to answer my questions. Answer them quickly and honestly, and you will not be hurt. Try to lie and hide the operations of your feeble Legion, and you will find it to be quite … uncomfortable.”

  Her mind raced. Her heart thudded. She stared down at her body restrained by the thick black straps. This couldn’t be happening. There had to be a way out.

  Closing her eyes, she cycled through her possible responses. This man meant business, but he seemed reasonable. Perhaps she could use that to her advantage. He wouldn’t hurt her as long as she provided thoughtful responses, right?

  She recalled the altered Tridents on the Formidable’s deck, missing all identification marks. When they’d left for this mission to retrieve the Wraith, they had worn nondescript flight suits to match their unidentifiable Tridents. This man didn’t know for sure if she was a Star Runner, and that was where she found the best card she could play.

  “I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, forcing a smile. “I am—”

  “Shh.” He pressed a smooth index finger across her lips, allowing it to linger for a moment. It smelled of a flowery cologne and peroxide. “Shh. There will be plenty time for our game later. For now, I simply wanted to introduce myself and let you know, Star Runner, that the truth will be imperative in your foreseeable future.”

  A boot clicked on the floor, echoing in the room. The movement to her right caught her eye. She stared as far as her field of vision would allow. A lean man with blond hair stepped into view. His piercing blue eyes bore into her. His skin was smooth as if he had just shaved a moment before, and he was surprisingly handsome.

  But he said nothing. He stared at her, taking in a long, slow breath as he maintained eye contact. She felt like an animal under observation. A chill shot through her spine as she sat under his gaze.

  With his eyes still locked with hers, he swayed his head. “This will be unpleasant,” he said, his mouth and jaw moving little as he spoke. “But it will serve to inform you of the stakes of this dangerous game I’m sure you are intent on playing with me … your lies and fictional stories of how you ended up in a Legion Trident.”

  He held up his black tablet. “The pain is directed through your fingertips by this device. I would like to start with your fingernails first. It will feel like your nails are being ripped out, one by one.” He smiled, sending another shiver through her body. “But don’t worry. The pain is all in your mind.”

  “I am not at—”

  “I told you,” he said, lifting the tablet with his thumb hovering over it, “there will be time for talking later.”

  “But—”

  It was a ripping sensation first, the feeling of jagged metal pliers fastening around her fingernails and jerking back, tearing the nails from her skin. She didn’t scream. Her jaw dropped open, her eyes falling on her hand. And then the pain thrashed through her system like a river of fuel exploding. Her body writhed in the chair, the straps splitting skin on her arms and legs. She kicked and fought against the restraints. Hot blood fell around her, running down her skin and puddling around her body.

  Working through nine digits to her small finger on her left hand, the device yanked the last fingernail from its location. She finally shrieked, gasping for breath.

  “Now, Star Runner,” the man hissed, looming over her with a strange, amused smirk on his face, “this was all in your head.” He leaned close, close enough for her to feel the heat of his breath on her cheek. “And since it was in your mind, I get to do it all over again.”

  The nail on her index finger ripped apart, beginning the process anew.

  Ryker screamed.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Her ribs poked through pale skin. With each press of her fingertip, the surface would darken, leaving a fading red circle. The previous tormentor had left Ryker after her daily “treatments” of pain. Today, it had been fire blazing on her skin.

  As they had done countless times before, the men in the black lab coats departed with their torture equipment, leaving her naked and alone in the steel room with a wide circular drain in the center of the floor for her to relieve herself. The men also used it to wash down any bodily fluids resulting from her torture.

  She stretched her thinning legs and stared into the buzzing, fluorescent light above. The food they had been bringing her was nothing more than a yellow or orange paste like mashed-up corn mixed with milk. Following the screaming and shrieking which ravaged her throat, the mush helped to soothe her vocal cords. She kept trying to harden her resolve and avoid making a sound during the torture. But she always failed.

  Why don’t they just kill me?

  The thought came to her on a regular basis. The men never asked questions or did anything but hook her up to the strange devices. They didn’t ask about details of the Trident, details of her service, or schematics of the Parazonium-class carriers. She wasn’t even sure if they were certain she had flown with the Legion. Instead, they came in the room to torture her. One day, if she were lucky, they would end this hell.

  And then there was the other lingering thought too horrific to dwell on. What if they were only using her as a lab rat, testing various torture methods to gauge the limits of the human mind?

  Closing her eyes, she tried to force sleep. She thought of her Star Runners on the Formidable. She saw Major Ty Braddock’s face staring at her during the briefings. David “Bear” Keller popped in her mind, his goofy grin lighting up a room when he sat next to his new girlfriend, Brylee. And, of course, she thought of Austin.

  But a haze had fallen over the memories, time blurring the sharp details as it tended to do. She needed to get out of here. With her heart racing, she glanced around the room for inspiration. As she had countless times before, she found nothing but the drain looming at the center of the chamber.

  She was never going to escape.

  The hatch popped and m
etal screeched. The wheel at the center turned and opened, revealing the blond man in the black uniform who had welcomed her during her first session. With his hands clasped behind his back, he strolled into the room. His eyes bore into hers as he walked.

  He paused in front of her and sighed. Raising his hand, he snapped his fingers.

  Two men, their heads shaved to the skin, hurried forward from behind him. One man carried a red coverall and the other, a large, clear water bottle. She recoiled against the wall, keeping her head down and bracing for the pain.

  But there was nothing. The men gently placed the coverall near her body and set the water down on the floor. The two men left, leaving her alone with the blond man. He stared at her for a long moment.

  “Please,” he said, raising his hand toward the water, “dress and drink something. We have a great deal to talk about, and I need your voice to keep up.”

  Hesitating, she reached over to the bottle as if it would attack her. Then she jolted toward the cylinder, ripping off the top and thrusting the opening into her mouth. The water tasted pure, cold, and invigorating. She gulped several times, her head aching from the frigid temperature of the liquid.

  Pulling the bottle from her lips, she backed up against the wall and looked at the man. She had only seen him a few times since the first day. He had come with the other lab coat men but remained silent while he observed their movements. Sometime during her “session,” he would depart.

  He folded his arms over his chest, tilting his head to the side as he stared at her. Taking a deep breath, he lowered into the squatting position with his eyes still locked with her own.

  “Dress.”

  Grabbing the simple red coverall, she pulled the cool fabric over her body. Each movement seemed awkward; her starved muscles ached. The room swirled with the movement, her balance difficult to grasp. When she had buttoned the coveralls, she leaned against the wall and slid down to a sitting position. She watched him staring and wondered what he wanted.

  The silence hung between them so long Ryker thought she might be dreaming.

  “My name is Captain Rufino Rampa,” he said. “I am your host.”

  She swallowed, relishing in the wetness on her lips for the first time in … weeks? Months? Her mind wandered, the effects of today’s session still lingering. She still felt the fire on her skin, the heat of the blaze engulfing her body. During these periods of torture, she begged for death to release her. But it never did. The pain only intensified.

  “You have been taken into the services of the Zahl Empire for the duration of your life, which is why you are here.” He stared at her, unblinking. “We have bestowed upon you a great honor. Where are you from? Why were you flying an unmarked enemy fighter?”

  Shifting her eyes to the wall, she took a deep breath. A hundred questions surged into her mind, but she struggled to pinpoint any of them. What was wrong with her? Weakness plagued her body, and she wondered if she would be able to run if given the opportunity. She had no intention of answering his questions. What more could he do to her?

  “Would you like to eat something other than protein paste?” he asked, his eyes widening. “I can make that happen. Answer my questions.”

  Her eyes moved back to him, thoughts of real food swirling in her mind.

  “You like that idea, don’t you?” he asked, smiling for the first time since entering the room. “Answer my questions.”

  Her stomach rumbled. “I am a pilot,” she said, her voice rough and raw.

  “Yes.”

  Ryker blinked. “Yes.”

  “And?”

  “What do you mean?”

  He sighed. “I really don’t feel like bringing in the device today. Tell me how you ended up in the Trident.”

  She stared at the floor, her vision wavering. If she gave away any information about their mission to steal the Wraith, she could be sparking a galactic incident. However, she didn’t know if she would last much longer in this cell. Did it even matter anymore? Had the Legion and Zahl gone to war? Or had the theft of the Wraith changed the situation?

  Wait, concentrate. Closing her eyes, she cycled through the information filling her mind. There had been a cover story, right? What was she supposed to say? She couldn’t continue to say nothing or she would die, but she couldn’t betray her people. What should the story be? How could she answer his questions?

  Pursing her lips, she cleared her throat. Her heart pounded.

  “I work for a smuggler. I’m just a low-level pilot.”

  “For who?”

  “I freelanced with several Tyral Pirates in multiple sectors and quadrants.”

  “Who sent you to the Govon Three?”

  “Where?”

  He lowered his stare. “The world where you were recruited into Imperial service.”

  “Oh,” she said, her mind racing, “a man named Rodon sent me—”

  “You lie,” he said, his lips curling back over his teeth. “The Tyral Pirate Rodon was killed in the Amade Cluster. Tell me another one and I leave.”

  “I don’t remember his name.”

  “You don’t remember the man who hired you?”

  “No. I received the job from Chance.”

  “Who?”

  “A bookie. He helps freelancers like me get jobs.”

  He stared at her, his hands resting on his knees. Either he believed her, or he had never heard of a bookie named Chance. It didn’t matter. The result would be the same to her.

  After a moment, Rampa’s expression softened. “Very well. Where did you learn to fly?”

  She took a drink, stalling for time as she prepared her next line. There wouldn’t be any consequence in providing some truth to her fiction. After all, a sprinkle of truth helped the lie go down. Someone had told her that once in … training of some kind. She couldn’t remember, her mind filling with a haze as if she were underwater.

  Squinting, she tried to maintain eye contact. “I was born on Lian and learned basic flight there.”

  He grumbled an affirmative and nodded. “Lian,” he whispered as if the name of the planet would conjure some memory for him. “Ravaged by war, is it not?”

  “It is.”

  He arched an eyebrow. “Haven’t been there in a while?”

  “No.”

  “I see.” He seemed to take in the entire room for the first time, exhaling as he looked around. “Do you realize what could have prevented the years of conflict on your planet?”

  She shrugged, finishing the water in her bottle. “No.”

  “Us. The Empire. You see, the galaxy is cold and dark and evil. The Zahl is the light. It always has been. We bring order to the chaos, save humanity from themselves. As is the case on your planet, the nature of man will always prevail without the Empire. And the nature of man is self-destruction.”

  A flicker of anger surged through her body. “I thought the Empire conquered worlds to force them to bend to their will.”

  “Lies and fictional elements conjured from a deranged mind spread by upstarts like the Legion.”

  She shook her head. “But the Legion allows planets the freedom to live in their own way and evolve at their own pace.” She clenched her teeth, a fog drifting over her thoughts. “The Zahl conquer and never give worlds the chance.”

  “Because the worlds will destroy themselves. We do not conquer. We save the people from themselves. These so-called dark worlds will not survive without our civilized ways. We must save the denizens of the galaxy from themselves. That is what you will come to understand.” He took a step toward her. “You know what I say is true. If the Empire expanded to Lian, the horrors you witnessed in your life would have never been allowed to happen. You would have known your parents, had the chance to live a life of prosperity and peace. Perhaps even married and had children. Because of Lian’s location inside the Legion and the planet’s ridiculous classification as a dark world, your planet was allowed to engage in generations of warfare. Millions have died. Entire
generations were wiped out.”

  She looked away, forcing his words out of her mind. It wasn’t true. “Lian was given free will, just like all the dark worlds. The Legion doesn’t impose itself on the people.”

  The corner of Rampa’s mouth turned. “So your Legion is allowing the dark worlds to commit suicide. Do you not see that?”

  “No.”

  “How can your Legion permit the genocide of a hundred dark worlds?”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  “Are you fine with serving a government that would stand by as a dark world burned in a nuclear holocaust? With the Legion’s policies, that could happen.”

  “No,” she said, shaking her head. “The Legion would stop something like that from happening if it could.”

  “You are wrong.” He squatted in front of her, his eyes wide. “Do you want to spend your life as a pawn for a useless, inefficient, and destructive system like the Galactic Legion of Planets?”

  She hurled the bottle to the ground. “You are wrong about the Legion! We bring peace! We allow worlds the freedom to join the Legion when they choose to do so! We don’t conquer and kill like you do!”

  Her voice echoed in the room, fading into silence. Rampa’s bright blue eyes stared at her for a moment. Finally, he nodded and stood. He smiled.

  “Knew you were a Star Runner,” he said, hissing like a snake. “Welcome to the Zahl Empire.”

  He clicked his boots and spun around, marching toward the exit.

  Pulling her knees toward her body, she stared at the floor with her mouth hanging open. Had she revealed her identity? What had she said? The previous conversation blurred together in her mind.

  “Your stay is about to get much more interesting,” Rampa said without turning as he passed through the open hatch.

  The metal hatch closed with a loud screech. It boomed shut, leaving the room in silence other than the buzzing of the florescent light above.

  The voice in her mind returned, repeating a question like a recording in her mind:

  What have you done?