“I can imagine,” chuckled Andrews. “So tell us what did you learn?”
“Before I give you my report, there is one more person I need to scan.”
“Who is that?” Andrews asked.
“You!” shouted Paul.
“Oh.”
“If I didn’t know better. I’d think you were trying to avoid me. I knocked on your door twice and got no answer. Even though I could tell you were in there.”
“I’m sorry,” said Andrews. “But that scanner thing makes me nervous. I don’t care what anyone says. It has got to be shooting radiation into a person’s body. As you know radiation can be deadly and—”
“Paul,” interrupted Dennis “We can skip testing Dave. We know he’s not a Tradian.”
“OK, if you say so,” agreed Paul.
“Did you test yourself?” asked Dennis.
“Sure did,” answered Paul.
“So what are the results?” asked Andrews.
“Well, I can assure you that we have nothing to worry about. No one on the ship has a deadly strain of stomach flu,” reported Paul with a great wide smile. Dennis Pearson shook his head. Paul could never resist the opportunity to joke around. “Funny,” he muttered. “But can we get on with it?”
Paul was still smiling as he announced, “I am happy to report that there are no Tradians aboard the Gladiator.”
“That means we need to go back to the drawing board. We are no closer to identifying the spy or learning what has happened to the Captain,” said Andrews sadly. “I am open to any suggestions.”
The room was silent again.
Another day of digging had come to an end. This day passed without any incidents. Josh Stoner and his officers practiced exchanging Morse Code messages to each other. By the end of the day they were getting much better at it. They were able to send quicker messages with more abbreviations. Josh’s messages told his officers to take notice of every single thing about their environment. They needed to be aware of everything. No detail was too small.
Back in their cage, they finished their supper and welcomed the talking hour. This night Josh and Wayne moved themselves over to their left.
“Hello,” said Captain Stoner to the skinny man who always slept next to Lieutenant Shasta. “My name is Joshua Stoner, and this here is my friend Wayne Shasta.” Josh stuck out his hand, but the man did not offer his. Withdrawing his hand, Josh gave the man a smile. “As you can see we are newcomers. I am guessing that you’ve been here for a while.” The man eyed Josh and Wayne suspiciously.
“I’ve been here for several years,” the man said. His voice was deep but scratchy with a flat monotone inflection. He sounded tired and much older then he probably was. With his straggly hair and brown bushy beard he looked like a very hungry caveman.
“That’s a long time. Have you ever tried to get out of here?”
“There’s only one way to leave here.”
“Really. How’s that?”
“By dying.”
Josh stared at the man. He was dead serious.
“No one’s ever escaped?”
“Not while I’ve been here.”
Josh turned around and looked at Wayne Shasta.
“Captain,” said Wayne. “We can’t give up hope.”
“Why does he call you captain?” asked the man.
“Um,” stammered Josh. “I used to be a captain on a ship. Wayne was one of my crew members. But now we are just friends.” Josh gave Wayne a smile. “I guess calling me captain is just an old habit.”
“I see,” said the man. “It’s been nice talking to you.” And with that he turned his back to the Captain and Shasta. They inched their way over to Keith and Beverly who were sitting with their arms wrapped around each other.
“Did you learn anything?” inquired Keith quickly removing his arms from around Beverly’s waist. He tried to loosen her arms from his neck.
“Just that no one has ever escaped,” responded Josh. “Keith, I need the two of you to try and befriend the slave chained next to Beverly.
“Yes, sir,” said Keith.
“Let’s try and be careful with the formalities when we address each other in front of others,” instructed Josh. “I told the man next to Wayne that I used to be a captain on a ship and that Wayne was a crew member. I guess we can say that Keith was also a former crew member and Beverly is his girlfriend.” Josh winked at Hampton, and he quickly averted his eyes. “According to what Keith has learned, the Brisulans capture their slaves from all over space. So we were having a picnic on Earth when we were taken. Is that clear?”
They all nodded.
“CEASE TALKING,” came the shrill voice over the loudspeaker. “THERE IS A LOT OF WORK TO BE DONE, SO TOMORROW WE WILL BE STARTING A HALF HOUR EARLIER.”
There was a collective moan from the cages.
“QUIET!” yelled the voice.
The past twenty-four hours on the U.S.S. Gladiator were tense. Dennis Pearson, Dave Andrews and Paul Loring met on and off during the day and evening and now into the night. They threw out countless theories and hypotheses as to where the Captain might be and who the informant was. Maybe Keith was a Tradian, and he turned over Beverly to the Brisulans. Perhaps Beverly was the Tradian, and she lured Keith into a trap. Or it could be that there actually was no traitor, and the Tradians had access to the Gladiator’s computers. None of these seemed viable. They argued among each other as to what the next steps should be. The usual calm and in control Andrews was anything but. He had slammed his fists down on the table several times in frustration. Paul Loring, who usually brought some humor to meetings, was instead very serious and ill tempered. At one point when Dennis told him that he needed to lighten up. Paul responded by flashing an obscene gesture at him. And the usual hot headed and energetic Lieutenant Commander found himself being quiet and down in the dumps.
They were at a stalemate.
“Let’s review again what we have so far,” said Andrews. “It could be that we missed something.”
Here we go again, thought Pearson. We’ve only gone over the same stuff a thousand times. He lowered his head down on the table as Andrews began reading from his notes.
“We know that the bodies of the Captain, Lieutenant Hampton, Lieutenant Shasta, and Ensign Glenna are all fakes. We also know that these bodies were made very quickly. Do the Brisulans have some way of reproducing bodies instantly? Or did they know ahead of time who was going to be in the landing party? Did they have genetic information on the landing party in order to have the bodies ready for our arrival? The fake bodies were fully clothed. Did they reproduce the clothes also?”
Andrews’ words triggered a memory for Pearson. It was a conversation between Dr. Loring and the Captain that had occurred as the two departed the elevator in the Conveyor Port on the morning they returned to Brisula.
“These uniforms are all wrong.” Dennis Pearson had heard Paul say as the elevator doors clanged shut. “I really think we should have worn our blue ones. If we get lost in the forest, we will not be able to find each other.”
“If we get lost and are dressed in our blue suits, the enemy would be sure to find us,” Josh Stoner had answered.
“Dave,” interrupted Pearson excitedly lifting his head up from the table, “I just remembered something.”
“What?” Dave looked up from his notes.
“Do you remember what color uniforms the landing parties were wearing?”
“Um, I believe we were wearing the usual uniforms that we wear when we go on expeditions. It would have been our blue ones.”
“Yes, that was true of the first expedition. But what about the second?” Dennis asked. “Didn’t the Captain order the landing party to wear camouflage?”
“You are correct,” answered Andrews, “and if my memory serves me right— Oh my stars!”
“The Captain and Shasta’s bodies were wearing blue uniforms,” shouted Pearson.
“So that means that the Brisulans and Tradians def
initely knew who was going to be in the landing parties ahead of time. They prepared the bodies in our usual blue uniforms.”
“But how would they have gotten the genetic information to create the bodies?” asked Pearson.
“Paul. Where is the genetic information on our crew stored?”
“There is a folder with the genetic profiles of every crew member in the medical database on the computer in my office. These files are also stored on computers at UGC.”
“So the information could be leaked from our ship or the computers at UGC could have been tampered with.”
“I’d bet it came from UGC,” said Paul. “That would mean that the informant is not aboard this ship.”
“That’s a possibility,” answered Andrews. “However, we did find those fragments on Diane Pearson’s computer.”
“She did not send those messages,” interjected Dennis.
Andrews ignored him. “Well, this is all very interesting, but we are still no closer to finding the Captain.”
A knock on the door startled them all.
“Enter,” commanded Andrews. The door opened and the tip of Jackson Greene’s white cane entered the room.
“Sir,” said Jackson addressing Commander Andrews, “I have just intercepted a new transmission from Brisula. I thought you’d want to know.”
“Thank you officer. What did it say?”
“CEASE TALKING. THERE IS A LOT OF WORK TO BE DONE, SO TOMORROW WE WILL BE STARTING A HALF HOUR EARLIER. QUIET.”
CHAPTER TEN
May 31
Dr. Paul Loring was up bright and early. He dressed quickly, putting on the green uniform that the crew usually wore when they were working aboard the Gladiator. He stood in front of the long full length mirror tacked on the inside of his closet door. He was getting ugly bags under his eyes. He just couldn’t sleep these days. He wished this whole mess would just be over. Why can’t we just go down to Brisula, retrieve the Captain and the others, and sail away from this horrid place? What did it matter who the informant is? We just need to find the Captain and get out of here.
He closed the closet door and left his quarters. He headed for Sick Bay. There were two in-patients both suffering from severe colds. The cold that Yeoman Perez had was spreading through the ship. Unfortunately there wasn’t much he could do for the common cold. Bed rest, lots of liquids, and two aspirins was still the best remedy.
“Good morning,” greeted Amanda Rugan. She was measuring out some cough syrup. “I see you are up early too.”
“Who else is up early?”
“Commander Andrews was here when I arrived for duty a little bit ago.”
“What? Is he still here? Where is he?”
“He’s in your office. I believe he’s using your computer. He said—” Paul didn’t wait to hear the rest of Nurse Rugan’s response. He rushed into the medical office. Dave Andrews was seated at the computer with his fingers flying across the keyboard.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” yelled Paul.
Dave stopped typing and looked up at Paul. “Good morning, doctor.” He smiled at Paul.
“I need to know what you are doing,” shouted Paul. “There is highly confidential information in that computer.”
“Yes, of course I am aware of that. I am trying to see if the genetic files have been tampered with.”
“Get away from there.” Paul placed his hand on the back of the computer chair and pointed to the door with his other arm. “I can check on that.”
Andrews stood up and left the computer. “My, you are touchy. Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed?”
“Yes,” responded Paul, “I am very touchy over the confidential medical files in my computer. Crew members do not want their information viewed by anyone but their doctor. How long have you been here? What have you found out?”
“As the acting captain of this ship, I have the right to view all data on all crew members. I’ve been here about an hour, and unfortunately I couldn’t find much as you seem to have several layers of passwords.”
“I told you that I protect my patients’ information. Look, I will check out the genetic files and let you know what I discover.”
“Can I stay and watch?”
“Don’t you have better things to do? Like finding the Captain?”
“Touché,” said Dave. He gave Paul a slight bow and headed for the door. “We’ve got a meeting scheduled in two hours.”
“Yes, I know. Now get.” He closed the door behind Dave.
The nerve of Andrews, Paul thought. He has no business poking around in my computer. Luckily I do have several passwords in place.
After checking several databases, he changed all the passwords and shut down the computer. He checked on his two patients. They both had high temperatures, so he ordered some fever reducing medication. Before leaving Sick Bay he asked Amanda Rugan if he could have a moment with her. He told her that she was not to let anyone including Commander Andrews near the medical computer. He asked her to inform all of the other nurses of this order—especially Nurse Mann, who had been on duty when Dave Andrews had arrived that morning.
The day dragged on. The gravel pits seemed to be endless. No matter how much dirt and gravel they removed there always appeared to be more. Josh was anxious to get back to the cage and talk again to the tall skinny slave. He sent Keith Hampton a Morse Code message reminding him to talk to the slave chained next to Beverly. Keith coded back “ok.”
Josh gobbled down the raw fish. It was getting easier to stomach. He gulped down several cups of water and nudged Shasta to slide over to the left. As soon as the gong sounded Josh tried to engage the tall slave into conversation. The man was turned to his left and talking to the woman next to him. Josh got the impression that they were fond of each other.
Josh heard the woman say “I don’t think you should talk to those new slaves. I fear that they are trouble.”
The man replied, “Fabiana, what kind of trouble can they be? They are unfortunate slaves like we are.” He turned to Josh and Wayne and said, “Good evening fellow slaves.”
“Good evening,” replied back the Captain. “Another exhausting day is over.”
“You will get used to it,” replied the man. “My name is Joban. I am from Pila in the Andromeda Galaxy. As I told you yesterday I have been here for many years. I can’t tell you exactly how many years as I have lost count of the days, weeks, and months.”
“How did you end up here? If I may ask?” said Josh.
“I was a police officer in my hometown on Pila. I was on patrol with my partner, Salton. We had been dispatched to investigate a disturbance in an alley behind a drinking establishment. Upon arriving in the alley we were assaulted and woke up here in chains.”
“Where is Salton?” inquired Josh, dreading the answer. He probably was worked to death.
“A while ago, I am guessing about three years ago. Salton and I were rented out as slaves to the Wealthies who live in the modern silver city. We found ourselves in the home of one of the high ranking Brisulan military officers, Colonel Flax, who became known to us as our Master. We were basically servants doing laundry, washing dishes, mopping floors, and cleaning toilets. My thoughts were constantly on escape. I tried a number of times, but I was caught each time. Finally my Master tired of my running and had me returned to my former cage. Salton remained with our Master. I have never seen or heard of him since. He is either still with our Master or has been sold to another master.” Joban paused. Looking up to the ceiling he said. “Or, of course he could be dead.”
“Or,” said Josh, “he could have escaped.”
“I highly doubt that. If Salton had escaped he would have come back for me.”
“Do you still think about escaping?” asked Josh.
“Of course. All the time. But it is hopeless. We are all doomed to die in this desolate place. I have seen many collapse and die from sheer exhaustion. Their bodies are carried out on wooden handcarts that are usually u
sed to haul the gravel away. They are the lucky ones. They have been able to escape.”
“Enough,” came a harsh voice. It was from the woman sitting next to Joban. Her hair was jet black and hung in mats touching her shoulders. There were blotches of red on her face from picked over scabs. At one time she was probably quite attractive. Now she appeared worn and untidy. Her large black eyes scanned over Josh and Wayne’s faces.
“This is Fabiana,” said Joban reaching out and wrapping his arms around the woman’s shoulders. “After being chained up alongside each other for all this time, we have fallen in love. She is the only reason that I have not figured out a way to kill myself.”
“Pleased to meet you,” said Josh holding out his hand. Fabiana looked at Joban who nodded his head. She slowly held out her hand and allowed Josh to take it in his. Wayne Shasta then held out his hand and they briefly shook hands.
“TIME FOR BED,” the voice on the loudspeaker yelled.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
June 1
Yesterday passed without any progress at all. Dr. Loring reported that the genetic files were all intact. He could not find any evidence that they had been tampered with. Commander Andrews was still reluctant to send down any rescue crews to the planet’s surface. He wanted to be assured that there would be no chance of losing any more crew members. United Galaxy Command had contacted Andrews and offered to deploy rescue vessels to Brisula, but he had turned down the offer stating the danger of more personnel being captured. UGC was not very happy with his refusal to accept help. They were still concerned that Commander Andrews was stalling the rescue efforts for personal gain. Admiral Wilcox issued a directive giving the U.S.S. Gladiator seventy-two hours to devise and begin carrying out a rescue plan. Andrews was advised in no uncertain terms that if he did not comply with this order then the UGC would be deploying an experienced search and rescue team to take over command of the Gladiator. It would take the search team two days to reach Brisula. Therefore the Gladiator crew had a total of five days left to find the Captain. Andrews could not phantom losing control of the ship. He was beginning to panic but reminded himself that rushing ahead without carefully thought out plans could be reckless.
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