by C H Gideon
He wiped his face and sat up, the murmur of the guards, frantic and so out of place, drawing him to the surface of his self-imposed mire.
“Is this real?” he asked himself, mustering the energy to get up and walk to the bars of his cell.
Men shouted and cursed and he heard evidence of a scramble, feet slapping concrete, armor slapping flesh. Chaos engulfed his captors for several long moments, then routine took over and they were gone, storming away from his cell as a unit.
Silence remained in their wake.
He stood at the bars for several long minutes, having expected the guards to return to the room and their game and normality to resume, but it didn’t happen. There was only the quiet.
“What’s going on?” Maddox asked himself, disappointed that he didn’t have an answer.
Fortunately, someone else did.
“This is what they call a breakout,” a voice said.
The sound sent shivers down Maddox’s spine.
“Who’s there?”
A figure emerged from the room where the guards normally were, and Maddox slunk toward the back of his cage.
“No need to be afraid,” the figure said, coming up to stand before the bars of Maddox’s cell.
“A Jonny taxi driver?” Maddox asked, finally able to get a clear look at his unexpected guest.
“You have got to be kidding me,” the newcomer cursed, shaking his head. “Priority one, a new damn body for Reynolds.”
“Who’s Reynolds?” Maddox asked.
“That would be me,” the Jonny driver responded. “And you, I presume by the musty smell of long-lost freedom, would be General Adrial Maddox?”
Maddox nodded after a few moment’s hesitation, unsure how to respond. More to the point, he had to remember his name, seeing as how no one had used it since he’d been locked in this cage. Not a single time.
That was another brilliant part of Lemaire’s plan. He had effectively erased Maddox from the minds of the world, including his own.
Suddenly lightheaded, Maddox dropped onto his cot and laid back, staring at the blurry ceiling as he waited for the feeling to pass.
“No offense, General, but we don’t have a lot of time here,” Reynolds told him, grabbing the bars. “My associate is outside stirring up trouble as a diversion and—”
Another boom sounded in the distance, interrupting the android, and Maddox sat up to listen.
“Ah, there she is,” Reynolds went on. “Anyway, as I was saying, we don’t have a lot of time, and you and I need to have a chat.”
Maddox stared at the wall for a moment, imagining he could see what was going on beyond it, then he turned to face the android who was snapping his fingers for Maddox’s attention.
“There we go,” Reynolds told him. “Come back to the present and the real world.”
“I-I—”
“You know what? How about I talk, and you listen?” Reynolds suggested. “Seems to me that’s the only way we’ll actually get to the point here. It’s clear that if I wait for you, my joints are going to rust.”
“Uh…I—”
“Couldn’t agree with you more, General,” Reynolds interrupted, doing as much as possible to make his android face express disappointment and annoyance at the same time. He’d just have to assume he’d made it work since there was nothing reflective in the cell he could use to judge his efforts. “Simple question, General. Do you want to be free and travel the stars and get revenge on the asshole who locked you up and stole your life?”
“Y-you… You…” Maddox struggled to speak. It wasn’t that he was unable; his voice worked fine. It was simply that he was so overwhelmed by the android’s arrival that he couldn’t stop shaking. His throat had clasped tight, and he could barely breathe.
He wanted to shout and scream, “Yes,” and race to the bars and hug this strange android, thanking him for his offer of freedom, but his body rebelled. He’d been in the cell too long; he no longer knew how to respond.
“That’s it, Maddox, use your words.” Reynolds bit back a groan as yet another explosion echoed through the prison. That was the last of them, Jiya’s ruse having run out of juice. “Complete sentences would be a bonus.”
“Y-you…would f-free me?”
“That’s the idea, yeah.”
Maddox managed to move his head up and down enough that it qualified as a nod. “P-pl..eeeease,” he spat, more drool than actual sounds.
Reynolds raised an eyebrow and leaned into the bars. “Good enough for government work,” he said, then he went to work on the bars, tugging at them. “I’m glad I had Doc strengthen the servos on this rent-a-husk,” he muttered.
Maddox had no idea what he meant, but that didn’t matter. When the bars to his cell creaked and bent under the android’s pressure, Maddox forgot everything. He squealed as the bars kept bending and bending and bending, finally providing an opening wide enough for him to clamber through.
He didn’t, of course, because that would require a strength—both mental and physical—that Maddox wasn’t able to summon. Instead, he slumped on his cot in a fetal position.
Reynolds groaned. “You’re like a sack of moldy potatoes. Why the hell Jiya wants you, I have no idea.”
“Jiya?” Maddox repeated, memories stirring him from his near-comatose state. “Y-you…said Jiya?”
“I did indeed,” the android confirmed, easing through the bent bars to enter Maddox’s cell. “She’s waiting for you outside. If you want to see her, I suggest you stand up and come with me right fucking now.”
Maddox bolted upright, managing to get to his feet…for about a second. Then he wavered, wobbled, and almost collapsed.
Reynolds caught him, slipping an arm under Maddox’s armpit and wrapping it around his waist. “I guess I’m a Jonny taxi after all,” he muttered, carting the limp Maddox out through the bent bars into the room beyond. “I’m turning on the meter for this trip.”
The android carried Maddox through the guard’s room, which Maddox barely remembered, it having been so long since he’d seen it, then down a corridor he didn’t remember at all.
They came to a room with a closed door, and Reynolds opened it and helped Maddox inside. A window shone at the back of the room, and the bars that had previously blocked passage through it were ripped loose and lay on the floor. The glass was missing, too.
Before Maddox could complain, which probably would have taken weeks given his sudden lack of ability to vocalize, the android squeezed him through the window and dumped him outside.
Maddox landed with a thud, but he didn’t care. The warm grass and gritty dirt pressed against his cheek were all that mattered at that moment. It didn’t last nearly long enough, however.
The android snatched him up again and tossed him over its shoulder. Maddox grunted as it took off at a sprint, its mechanical shoulder bone driving into his gut.
“I hope you get your energy back or Jiya is going to owe me big time.”
Chapter Ten
“You sure he’ll be okay,” Jiya asked, staring through the window that looked into the med bay.
General Maddox laid on the bed as the automated surgical services scanned and assessed him.
“He’ll be fine,” Reynolds replied. “Doc says a day or two in the Pod-doc and he’ll be right as rain.”
“And that’s a good thing?”
Reynolds shrugged. “So my databases tell me.”
“What about his mind?”
“It’s like a turd floating in a fishbowl right now,” the AI answered, “but…Doc says it’s just stress and trauma from his long incarceration in solitary confinement. Eight years with almost no interaction is an inhumane level of torture. The fact that he survived is a testament to his mental strength. He’s cracked a few seals here and there. Fortunately, it’s nothing serious in the grand scheme of things. Might take a little time, but the genius you knew will return, or so Doc says.”
Jiya drew in a deep breath. “Thank you for helping
me get him out of there,” she said, exhaling slowly in relief. She’d been worried when Reynolds had first brought Maddox aboard. He had been so…scattered. So weak. She wasn’t sure there’d be any saving him.
“I’ll just pretend you said, Thank you for doing all the work to get him out of there,’ to which I’d reply, ‘You’re welcome.’”
“Hey! I distracted the guards and pulled them away from their posts.”
“And that was excellent work,” he acknowledged. “I mean, it must have been hard work pressing that button three times, timing it so as not to press it too early or too late.” He grabbed her hand. “How’s your thumb? You need the Doc to take a look at it?”
“I think I’ll manage,” she replied. “Anyway, Takal told me that the repairs are coming along well. Most of the pertinent systems have been brought back into compliance, so if you were waiting on any of that before we moved on, they’re no longer an issue.”
“Excellent,” Reynolds said, rubbing his hands together like an evil genius. “And the remainder of the damage?”
“Takal has recruited Ka’nak to do the heavy lifting on the hull repairs, so he predicts all that will done in a few more days at most. His strength is coming in handy,” she told him. “And Geroux has been syncing the computer systems, better preparing for Meatbag Manual Manipulation, as she’s named the changeover.”
“Niiiice,” Reynolds applauded. “I like that girl already.”
“So, with things progressing and the crew onboard, if not entirely functional, what’s the plan?” she asked.
“Gather the crew who aren’t drooling all over themselves and have them meet me here at sickbay.”
“And then?”
“And then we start doing the fun stuff.”
“Such as?” Jiya questioned.
Reynolds grinned in reply. “First off, we jab a metal device into your temple, then we get to work.”
“I’m sorry I asked.” Jiya grunted, spun on her heel, and marched off to put as much distance between her and the AI as possible.
“Is this absolutely necessary?” Takal asked, twitching in his seat.
“It is if you want to know what people are saying to you, and if you want to communicate with the rest of us while we’re out on a mission.”
“So, you’re saying it’s not entirely necessary?” Takal clarified.
“I’m being kind. You need to have this procedure. Every member of the crew needs to be linked. In combat, the ship could be filled with smoke, shrouding your fragile forms in darkness. What if you find yourself outside the ship? It would be best if you could communicate with us,” Reynolds told him, wrapping a hand around the back of Takal’s head and holding him in place. “Now, sit still. You don’t want this embedded in your eyeball.”
Takal froze, and the AI pressed a long, thin device to the man’s temple. There was a quiet click and Takal flinched, then narrowed his eyes.
“That’s it?”
“Of course, that’s it,” Reynolds answered with a tssk. “We’re not here to torture you.”
“Not physically,” Jiya muttered.
Reynolds grinned and waved Jiya up next, shooing Takal out of the seat. “Mentally, you’re all fair game. Now, assume the position, Princess, and get ready to be poked.” He patted the now-empty seat.
“Is he always like this?” Geroux asked.
“It’s usually Tactical,” Jiya told her, sliding into the chair, “but I think the two have been apart too long. They’re starting to merge. Think of him as a socially-awkward genius who wants people to like him.”
“Quirks?” Takal clarified.
“I took more words to say the same thing. Thank you for your eloquence, Takal. We’ll go with quirks.”
“Just sit still and be quiet,” Reynolds told them, waving the crew to silence. “This is an important part of the new-crew process.” He lifted the device and jabbed Jiya in the temple. There was a tiny pinch, less painful than a bug bite, and the AI motioned her out of the chair. “This device will allow us to stay in contact at all times, plus it is an upgrade to the low-rent translators you’ve already had implanted by your people. This one has a far vaster selection of languages, plus a miniature little me—an AI—in it that will allow it to process and better translate languages we don’t already know.”
“A little you in them,” Tactical chuckled, his voice appearing out of nowhere. “Give yourself more credit, Reynolds.”
Jiya flinched when Tactical’s voice sounded inside her head. “He really shouldn’t,” Tactical whispered.
“You realize I heard that, right?” the AI asked.
“No clue what you’re talking about?” Tactical deflected. “Oh, I hear Helm calling me. Gotta go.”
Reynolds grumbled and motioned for Ka’nak to hop into the chair.
“What about her?” the warrior asked, pointing at Geroux while eyeing the device as if it might bite him.
“Ladies last,” he replied. “Now get over here so we can get on with things. Unless, of course, you’re afraid of needles. You aren’t, are you?”
“I’m not afraid of anything,” he answered, puffing out his barrel chest and scowling. “I’m just uncomfortable around needles.”
Reynolds sighed and glanced over his shoulder at Jiya. “Our great and mighty security officer is afraid of getting a shot. Am I going to have to whip out my Danny Devito on this one?”
“What?” Jiya asked.
“That was punny right there, I don’t care who you are,” the AI went on.
Jiya tapped the side of her head where Reynolds had just inserted the communicator. “Seriously, is this thing working, because I don’t understand a damn word you’re saying.”
“You people are so uncultured.” Reynolds grunted and stomped over to Ka’nak. “Hey, what the hell is that?” he shouted, pointing out the viewport.
“What is it?” the fighter asked, whipping his head around to look.
Reynolds jammed the device into his temple as soon as Ka’nak spun, implanting the comm.
Ka’nak spun back around and rubbed his temple. “Hey!” He made to grab the AI.
“Be grateful I don’t release a horde of mosquito nanites on your ass,” Reynolds threatened.
“You have those?” Ka’nak asked, pausing in his attempt to grab the AI.
“Want to find out?”
“Pass,” he answered, waving his hands and backing up.
“Good choice.” Reynolds huffed and spun around. “Now, where were we? Oh, yeah…Geroux.”
Geroux walked over, snatched the device out of Reynold’s hand, examined it for a split-second, and thumped it against her temple, inserting her own comm. She handed the device back to Reynolds, who took it back, handling it as if it were infested.
“That was easy,” Geroux said, rubbing her temple and grinning.
“Yeah,” Reynolds muttered. “I didn’t feel a thing.”
“What about Maddox?” Jiya asked. “Will he get one, too?”
The AI nodded. “The Pod-doc will insert his while it’s working on the rest of him. He’ll be in the loop as soon as he’s out of the Pod.”
“Until then?” Jiya questioned.
“I show you all around the ship to get you better acquainted with its amenities and systems, and then we get ready for our first away mission.”
“Away from what?” Takal asked.
“Just away,” Reynolds snapped. “You know, like in that ancient television show, Star Trek?”
“Star what?” Ka’nak asked. “Did it make more sense than you? Because if so, I might like to watch it.”
“How can you not have seen it? It was the pinnacle of science fiction in the day.”
“Science isn’t fiction, though,” Geroux argued.
“No, that was just what they called it,” Reynolds defended.
“Why?” Geroux put her hands on her hips, seriously wondering.
“Because at the time, much of the science on the show was just that—ficti
on,” the AI explained.
“So, they were sub-humans acting like they were scientifically advanced?” Ka’nak asked, shaking his shaggy head. “How is that interesting?”
“It was. I’m appalled at the abject barbarity in this galaxy!” Reynolds complained. “I will schedule mandatory viewing sessions for the crew as part of your training. We’re going on an away mission because that’s what I want to call it, okay?”
“Still never answered my question,” Takal said. “Away where?”
“To throw myself into the sun if everything I say will be questioned. I can’t believe I ever agreed with myself to bring meatbags aboard. So much trouble.” He spun on a robotic heel and marched off. “Now, come with me to the bridge.”
“I never understood why they call it a ‘bridge,’” Ka’nak mused as they followed. “It doesn’t span a river or creek. Maybe the term came from that Star Whack show Reynolds was talking about. That would explain it.”
On the bridge, the crew gathered around the viewscreen, the brilliant vista of Lariest glowing before them. Jiya noticed that the view had changed from the one they’d been looking at just a short while earlier.
“I’ve had Helm move us to the other side of the planet,” Reynolds said as if reading Jiya’s mind.
She gasped under her breath and touched the newly inserted device, suddenly worried that it might be used to purloin her thoughts. What if…
“Our little adventure on the surface might have attracted some attention, and there’s a chance our shuttle was detected either entering or exiting orbit, or it will be. The Lariest government will put the pieces together eventually and start looking around up here for their missing political prisoner. As such, we need to be ready to haul anchor and be about our business.”
Jiya sighed when she realized it had only been a coincidence he’d mentioned the planet’s position.
He turned to face the crew. “Takal, Ka’nak, keep doing what you’re doing with the hull and ship repairs. If we have to leave in a hurry, I don’t want anything lingering that’ll cause problems down the road. We need to be as close to full integrity as possible. Keep track of how many additional people you’ll need. Now that we have Larians aboard, you can expand the number of crew in a way that will be best for the ship. ” He turned his focus to Geroux and Jiya. “You two stay here on the bridge with me. We need to get you up to speed with the ship’s systems so you can assist in operations. We’ll meet in the crew lounge at 1900 hours to discuss our mission in more detail.”