Captivity

by Maureen Toonkel

  “I have the orders to release you,” said Seaman Chase opening up the cell door. “You are free to go.”

  “Do you want to go to bed?” asked Dennis. It would be fantastic to crawl into bed with Diane for a couple of hours and just forget everything else.

  “No,” answered Diane. “I want to get out of these ugly orange clothes and get to work on the transmissions.”

  Dave Andrews was puzzled. Was what Pearson said true? Do I have an enemy? Who voted for me? If he believed Pearson, then it meant it was either Amanda Rugan, Jackson Greene or Paul Loring. One of them had voted for him. It couldn’t have been Paul. Dr. Loring was a friend. He didn’t think it was Jackson Greene, either. Dave had grown quite fond of Officer Greene during the last couple of weeks. Greene was a very intelligent and capable young man. That left Nurse Rugan. But why would Amanda think he was a spy?

  Of course Pearson could be lying, and he really did vote for me. That had to be it. It was the only logical answer.

  Dave booted up Captain Stoner’s computer and logged into the personnel files. He began reading Keith Hampton’s bio.

  Keith Hampton was born and raised in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. He was the only child of Murray and Agnes Hampton. Both of his parents were school teachers. Murray Hampton taught American history at the same high school that Keith had attended. Keith’s mother was a first grade teacher at a local elementary school. Growing up, Keith was a very curious child. He always wanted to know “why?” He loved science and was fascinated by planes and rocket ships. Although he was quite reserved, he was a Boy Scout, and he enjoyed volunteering at the local YMCA where he taught young developmentally delayed children how to use modern technology. Keith graduated with honors from high school and attended Penn State majoring in space aviation. After graduating summa cum laude, Keith applied and was accepted to the U.S. Space Academy. He was an excellent student. One of his professors, Lieutenant Commander Douglas Simpson, had written in Keith’s dossier, “Keith Hampton is a very astute and intelligent young man. He is sharp-witted and should undoubtedly go on to have a brilliant career in the U.S. Space program.” Keith interned as a navigator on the U.S.S. Asteroid before being permanently assigned to the U.S.S. Gladiator.

  Dave logged out. There was nothing in Hampton’s background to indicate that he could be a traitor. He switched computer users to himself and brought up all the reports and notes he had stored on Brisula’s surface. Soon he lost himself in the mounds of data.

  Paul Loring sat in his medical office with the lights off. He was deep in thought. Keith Hampton. That had surprised him. Like Andrews he was not expecting that. But, it was a good thing. With all the suspicion on Keith, it took everyone’s attention away from locating the spy and concentrating on finding the Captain. Personally he did not think it was going to be possible to rescue the Captain. We really need to face the fact that the Captain and the others are doomed to remain on Brisula as captured slaves. Actually that wasn’t so bad. He assumed they were alive. They were most likely working and being cared for. Things could have been worse. The bodies could have been real. So, where do we go from here?

  Amanda Rugan flipped on the overhead lights. “Why do you like to sit in the dark? Are you a werewolf?” she asked jokingly.

  “Very funny,” laughed Paul. “I’m usually the one with the wisecracks.”

  Amanda handed Dr. Loring a pen and a stack of medical reports to sign off on. Even though she had voted for Keith Hampton, she was having a hard time accepting that Keith was actually the traitor.

  “I think if Keith really is the spy, he must be just like a werewolf. By day he is usually a sweet, shy, young officer. But by night he changes into a werewolf,” reflected Amanda.

  “However,” inserted Paul, “werewolves usually only change into their wolf states when there is a full moon, and according to our research Brisula has no moons.”

  “Perhaps, his type of werewolf does not rely on moonlight,” said Amanda.

  “Well, if our spy is a werewolf we better order up a supply of silver bullets and swords.”

  “Now, who’s being funny,” giggled Amanda. She took the signed forms from Paul. Then she switched off the lights and left the doctor in the dark.

  Something was bothering Jackson Greene. Braille notes were scattered everywhere. Three computers were all up and running. One computer, speaking in a high pitched female voice was reciting articles on limnology. A second computer was spewing out a journal article on mammals found on uninhabited planets. Jackson’s laptop spoke in a deep male’s voice. It was reading over the research papers for Brisula.

  The lack of fish and wild animals was disturbing. There had to be enclosures somewhere on Brisula. But where? And why would all the fish and animal life be corralled in the first place? There definitely had to be humanoid life on the planet which was capable of capturing the wildlife and building corrals. Since there did not seem to be inhabitants on the surface the only logical assumption was that other than trees and flora, life on Brisula was underground.

  An idea suddenly occurred to him. But was it feasible? What would be the best way to present it? Would the committee reject his theory? Jackson turned on a fourth computer and began putting together a presentation.

  The next sign they came to was at an intersection a short distance from the Gravel Disposal.

  They continued east. Arriving at the Communications Station they were surprised to find the lights dimmed and no one inside. Josh opened the solid glass door and the two officers entered. There was a small metal desk in the center of the room with two brown cloth covered office chairs. Upon the table was a computer with a microphone attached to a long black cord. There were lights flickering on the monitor indicating that the computer was up and running. The technology was quite outdated. Josh recalled taking a class on vintage technology and vaguely remembered studying about these types of computers.

  “I believe this kind of computer used an old operating system called Microsoft Windows,” Josh told Keith.

  “Yes, sir,” answered Keith. “I think I have heard about that.” Eyeing the microphone, Keith added, “This must be where the loudspeaker announcements come from.”

  “I suppose,” murmured Josh. There was a stack of paper clips lying on the table and Josh absentmindedly played with them. His thoughts were back in the classroom. “Do you think we could use this computer to send a message to the Gladiator?”

  They sat down at the desk, and Josh began typing in commands. Keith watched as the Captain’s fingers moved across the keyboard. Now it was Keith that was playing with the paperclips. He scooped up several of them and dropped them into his canvas bag.

  After keying in several different messages, a window popped up instructing them to click on the word Start. This brought up a screen with many little icons on it. There was one that looked like an old-fashioned telephone. Josh clicked on it and a window appeared. This one directed them to choose an option: Loudspeaker, Intergalactic Calling or Tradian Headquarters. They chose Intergalactic Calling. Next they clicked on Send to All. This led to a screen asking them to pick Keyed Message or Recorded Message.

  Before going any further, Josh sat for a bit pondering their next move. “Keith,” he said, “if we send a typed message, we do not know where it will be going. It could be dangerous for us to randomly disclose our location. The same would be true if we sent a voice recorded message.”

  “I see your point, sir,” agreed Keith. “Is there a way we can send some type of coded message?”

  “That’s it,” cried out Josh. “You are a genius.” He slapped Keith on the back. “We can send the message in Morse Code.”

  Josh turned back to the computer and clicked on Recorded Message. A new window popped up telling them to click on OK when they were ready to begin recording. He clicked OK, and the microphone light flashed on. Keith picked up the mike and turned it upside down holding it over the Captain’s hand. Josh tapped his index finger very quickly three times on the table
. Then he swiped his finger, making a longer sounding tap three times and repeated three fast taps. He continued tapping. All of a sudden the glass door burst open and an armed guard rushed in.

  “Cease your activity immediately,” shouted the guard. Keith let the microphone drop from his hand and began digging in his canvas bag. Josh quickly clicked on the Send button. The screen flickered and Message Sent popped up. He stood up and saw that the guard was reaching for the cattle prod hanging from a belt loop. That’s when he saw Keith Hampton lunge forward and crash right into the guard’s chest. The impact knocked them both down. Keith landed on top of the guard. They struggled. Josh ran over to help Keith, but he stopped short when he heard a pained scream. Keith pushed himself up off the guard. In his hand he held a bloody scissors. The guard lay moaning on the ground with blood pouring out of the side of his neck.

  “Let’s go,” shouted Josh. Keith dropped the scissors but Josh yelled, “No, take those with.” Scooping up the dripping scissors, Keith then turned and followed Josh out the door.

  They ran quickly back in the direction they had come from. At the intersection they turned left heading down the south tunnel. They continued racing as fast as their legs could carry them until they came to another intersection. Stopping to rest they looked up at the sign hanging over their heads.

  There were no tunnels going west. Going south was of no help. Earlier on the way from Dispatch they had passed an indoor golf course. They had peered through a small porthole in the AstroTurf-covered gate. The room featured a spread of greens with putting tees. There was absolutely no place to hide in the wide open area. The only option was to go back the way they had just come or head east to the Hospital. They headed east.

  “Let’s begin this meeting by reviewing all the data we have amassed on Brisula’s surface,” Dave announced to the assembled committee. “After that we will go around the table and gather ideas of how we should proceed. I’ve brought extra-large tablet paper that we can use to write down our ideas and hang them on the wall. Nurse Rugan, you have a very legible handwriting, so I am appointing you as the note taker. Here is the paper, tape, and marking pens.” He handed her the items and then proceeded to read word for word a summary he had prepared of their research.

  Dennis’ mind wandered as Andrews’ words droned on. He was disappointed that Diane didn’t want to take a nap with him. He understood her desire to get to work. She always wanted to be helpful. But, he still couldn’t help feeling neglected. Oh well, pondered Dennis, if we ever get this mess resolved, I will see to it that Diane and I get plenty of occasions to make up for lost time. He tuned back into Andrews’ recital just as he was concluding.

  “So that is what we know at this time. Is there anything I’ve missed or anything new to add?” Dave asked the group.

  Jackson Greene tentatively raised his hand.

  “Yes, Officer Greene,” said Andrews.

  “Sir, I have a theory that I would like to run by the committee,” he said.

  “By all means, go ahead,” responded Andrews.

  “Well, OK. I’m, well, um,” stammered Greene.

  “Officer Greene, please proceed. I am willing to hear and consider any theories that are proposed, no matter how preposterous. So go ahead,” commanded Andrews.

  “Yes, sir,” said Jackson as he tried to calm himself by taking several deep breaths. “I have been baffled by the fact that there does not seem to be any fish in the lake or animals in the forest. This would seem to be implausible. The fish and animals must be corralled somewhere on the planet. It would also seem to lend credence to the belief that there is humanoid life on Brisula. There must be some form of intelligent life capable of building corrals and capturing the wildlife. All of our data indicates that there are no inhabitants on Brisula; yet, it seems almost certain that there must be some form of intelligent life capable of building corrals and capturing the wildlife. The lake is alive and the forest is flush and vibrant. We did not locate any corrals, nor did we find any visible entrance to a hidden community. Therefore, my conclusion is that the inhabitants are definitely underground.”

  “Well, Officer Greene,” said Andrews. “I think that is a fair conclusion. But where underground?”

  “I have an objection to that conclusion.” Paul Loring was waving his hand high in the air. Without waiting for Andrews to acknowledge him, he began talking. “We have no scientific data to indicate that there is life under the ground on Brisula. My theory, which makes a lot more sense, is that there must be a concealed spaceport on Brisula. The spaceport has an invisible force field around it so that we have been unable to detect it, especially since our ship’s sensors are out of commission. All the animals, fish, and captured humans have been transported via a spacecraft to another planet.”

  “That is an extremely conceivable theory,” said Andrews. “I actually like that hypothesis. It is one we should definitely pursue.”

  “But, sir,” interrupted Amanda Rugan. “What about the transmissions we’ve received from the planet’s surface?”

  Paul answered, “We have never established for sure that those transmissions came from Brisula. Or that they have anything to do with the Captain. They could be from another planet or from a nearby space station. They could even be from an alien spacecraft of some sort.”

  “Amanda, let’s write up some notes on Paul’s theory,” instructed Dave. Nurse Rugan stood up and taped a large white sheet of paper onto the paneling.

  As they walked east Josh and Keith became uneasy with the quietness in the tunnel. Josh was sure that the guard’s body would have been found by now. He expected that there would be a lot of commotion and activity in the tunnels. But so far he and Keith were alone in the silent corridor. They were just approaching the Hospital entrance when they began hearing sirens howling in the distance. Soon the sirens were getting louder. Josh and Keith started running just as two police officers pushing a handcart turned the corner. The injured guard was lying on the cart. Trotting alongside was another guard carrying a battery operated siren. The entire group headed left through the front doors of the Hospital.

  Josh and Keith kept running. They paused briefly to read the sign up ahead.

  They took a left and headed north to the School. That’s when they heard the crackle of the loudspeaker mounted on the roof of the tunnel.

  “ATTENTION ALL GUARDS. AN OFFICER HAS BEEN WOUNDED AT H-4. ACTIVATE BLUE. SUSPECTS ARE TWO ESCAPED SLAVES.”

  As they ran, Josh looked back over his shoulder and could see a contingent of police officers racing up the tunnel from Dispatch.

  “Faster!” he yelled to Keith.

  They reached the front gates of the School. The School was shut down for the night. A huge padlock attached to a heavy chain hung across the gates. Keith dug into the canvas bag tied around his waist and removed one of the paper clips he had taken from the Communications Station. He handed it to the Captain. Straightening out the clip Josh forced it into the padlock and began jimmying it. A mist of blue gas began descending from the ceiling above the gate. Josh continued working on the lock. Keith pulled Josh’s shirt up over his shoulders and down over his face. He then did the same with his own shirt. As the mist started to touch the tunnel floors, the lock sprang open. By removing the padlock, the gates swung forward. Josh and Keith dashed inside. They pulled on the heavy gates until they clanged shut. Josh reached through one of the slats on the gate and relocked the padlock. With their shirts pulled over their faces they gingerly made their way up the path to the large wooden schoolhouse door. Keith pulled the door open and the two of them slipped inside.

  Diane Pearson had showered and put on a freshly laundered uniform. Sitting down under the blow dryer she removed the towel from her head and shook her wet red curls splattering droplets of water on the bathroom rug. It felt wonderful to be out of the Brig and not be under suspicion. However, she was perplexed by what was going on around her. Dennis said in the present tense that Keith was the spy. He obviously lie
d to her when she called him on it. Why would Dennis lie to me? It wasn’t the first time he lied to me. On the day that Captain Stoner was killed, Paul Loring had said the Captain disappeared, but then he said that he had meant to say that the Captain died. When I questioned Dennis about it he agreed with Paul. Could the Captain and Keith Hampton be alive? But that is impossible. I saw both their bodies along with Wayne Shasta’s and Beverly Glenna’s.

  With her hair only partially dry she raced down the hallway and got on the elevator. She punched the button for the Bridge and tapped her foot against the floor impatiently waiting for the elevator to arrive at its destination. Hopping off the elevator she rushed over to her computer station.

  Benjamin Rubin was on duty. He smiled up at her and slid over to another chair. Diane sat down and logged into her personal account. A message appeared. It had recently been sent ship-wide by Commander Andrews.

  “Attention U.S.S. Gladiator Crew.

  There are rumors going around the ship indicating that there may be a spy among us. Particularly featured in the rumors are speculations that the late Keith Hampton, Dennis Pearson or myself could be spies. I ask that all crew members refrain from repeating these rumors. Anyone caught perpetuating these rumors will be subject to disciplinary action. If there are questions please refer them directly to me.

  Commander David Patrick Andrews.”

  “Whoa!” remarked Diane to Ensign Rubin. “He sounds angry. Disciplinary action for spreading gossip? That’s a new one.”

  “Well, things seem to have become very tense. Rumor has it that—” Ben stopped himself.

  “Go ahead. Whisper it in my ear. I promise I won’t tell,” encouraged Diane. Ben looked over at Bonnie Shea and Ensign Saad. “I don’t think they heard either of us.” she told him.