by Luke Norris
If Terrom was still on the ground when the drivers get deployed it would be far easier just to leave him there to fend for himself. No, she couldn’t do that, unfortunately—it would not garner trust with the rest of the crew if they knew she would discard them so quickly. It was a damn waste of resources is what it was.
“I want every inch of this place searched!” she ordered, “even if it means scouring all of Arakan. Send out all the trackers. Hunt that man that took him!” then hastily added, “don’t kill him, he will have to answer to the committee for attacking another early-trader.” She stormed out of the control room, but took Seth's arm and pulled him into the corridor. “Deployment of the driver happens as planned,” she narrowed her eyes. “Terrom was a damn fool, and if he’s on the ground when all hell breaks loose, then that’s on him.”
Seth gave her a sly toothy grin. “He never suitably appreciated what I do, my work with the drivers… Maybe he will when he experiences it firsthand.”
Li looked at him for several seconds, then grunted.
Remember not to get on the wrong side of that man, she made a mental note.
*
It had been a week! Tracking drones had been combing the city, scouring every nook and cranny. The computer had basically learned every single detail of every person’s pathetic first-stage life in that city. Hell, Li basically knew the color of every resident's underwear. If she’d cared to help local law enforcement, she could have identified every perpetrator of every crime in the last week. And yet, not a trace of Terrom. Blazing Hydrons! What had happened to him?
Li didn’t really care personally for the man, but the enigma of a missing second-stager had begun to consume her. It did happen on very odd occasions, through some freak accident or pure negligence, that an early-trader would be killed planetside. But for one to disappear without a trace? If another crew had really done something that would set a very bad precedent. That made no sense though. There had been no sign of other crews on the planet yet.
She sat in the ship’s bridge, ignoring the conversations around her. She rubbed her temples. Maybe there were second-stagers on the planet operating covertly. Perhaps they’d been there much longer than she realized. Li requested Seth’s comm-link. His holographic bust appeared on the desk in front of her. He looked occupied, hunched over something talking to another person, probably Medom.
“Is it important?” Seth asked without looking up.
That man really does think he’s above the rest of us, Li noted. He has forgotten he’s talking to his captain.
“I need to know if it’s possible to restore the mind of a driver,” Li told him, “bring back their original memories.”
“I don’t know why you’d want to do that,” Seth considered. “Technically if you were to wean a driver from the mind control chemicals, provided they don’t go crazy, they should still have their faculties somewhat intact. Depends on to what extent they’ve been interfered with…”
“I need Arif Zewka,” Li cut him off. “I think he encountered other second-stagers in Arakan. Another crew maybe. There was something he was not telling us when he came to our warehouse. He may hold a clue to unlocking this damn mystery with Terrom.”
“Ha!” Seth laughed and turned to face Li for the first time. “You can forget about Arif! He went through such extreme trauma, his mind can never be restored. He’s a driver now, and a driver he will stay. But that’s on you! You insisted he take the procedure unanesthetized.” Seth shook his head in annoyance. “I’m just glad I didn’t lose that subject.”
“Protectors find you, Seth!” she cursed him. But he was right, this was on her. In her little moment of spiteful pleasure, she’d ordered Seth to do that. “He was withholding something from us,” she continued. “I think it was the fact he met others. Oher second-stagers. The more I think about this situation with Terrom, the more I’m leaning toward another crew being involved… as unlikely as that may be.”
“Well, if he met with others,” Seth said slowly, patronizingly, “maybe they found him as we did in the zewka headquarters, and not in the city where you’ve been wasting all your resources.”
Damn that superior son of a bitch! The man had become more condescending lately. She would need to quietly take care of Seth, but she’d need to find a replacement for him first. So much to do. He was right of course. What he said made perfect sense. It’s where they’d gone to make contact with Arif. It’s where others would go…
“Anything else?” Seth asked impatiently.
Li closed the connection. She stood up, ten or so people were working various tasks. “Alright, listen up!” she called the attention of everyone on the bridge. “People, we have a new objective for the trackers. I want the zewka headquarters searched thoroughly. If there were other E.T.s there, I want to know about it.”
*
In the city, the curious small hovering objects that had suddenly appeared a week earlier and become second nature to the residents, shadowing them in their daily lives, suddenly rose into the sky without warning. Businessmen, street cleaners, shop owners, all stopped what they were doing and watched the alien objects rise until they were so high as to be almost invisible, and then zip away to the north at unimaginable speed. As quickly and mysteriously as they’d arrived, they were gone again. Most likely some top secret government experiment.
*
“Nobody’s been in?” Oliver asked one of the men flanking the door. He was a former guard here on the grounds. The man was only slightly shorter than Oliver but had a much more massive frame. Deep heavy-set features. The man’s eyes and misshapen nose divulged a violent past. He’d probably done things under the command of Arif that Oliver would rather not hear about. Maybe by giving these men a second chance to do good, it would somehow contribute to Oliver’s atonement for his own crimes as a driver.
“Sir, the door has not opened since you left, as you requested.”
“Good,” Oliver said, looking through the small window to see Terrom pacing in the room. “I cannot emphasize how dangerous he is.”
The guard looked entirely unconvinced. “Sir you don’t have to worry, I’ve dealt with much worse than the small man in that room.”
Terrom turned as he heard Oliver’s voice at the door. “I’ve been here for days!” He stormed up to the viewing window, so only his blue eyes and the bridge of his nose were visible. “I demand to speak to Captain Yarn. I’ve been kept in this primeval first-stage room for days. I even had to sleep on that.” He pointed to a comfortable looking single bed.
Oliver could only imagine what kind of comforts this pirate enjoyed aboard his ship.
The room, previously a guest room, was by Oliver’s standards clean, bright, simple, and it even had a small bathroom attached. It was certainly no ‘prison cell’. Although, that’s exactly what it had been appropriated for.
Oliver nodded to the guard to unlock the door. He boosted his metabolism slightly just in case Terrom tried anything when the door opened. He didn’t. Oliver kept his system elevated.
“What is this Riff?” Terrom demanded more softly. “You’re treating me like a prisoner. Like first-stage chattel.” He sat down on the bed exasperated and waved his hand indicating to the room. “This is not right. It’s not how you should be treating your own. And, your obsession with these first-stagers goes too far. I’ve seen you with them, laughing and joking. It’s just not right.” He shook his head sadly. “You’ve been too long planetside.”
Oliver stood over Terrom watching him through narrowed eyes. He’d been visiting this room every day, extracting what information he was able through the false pretense that he was a second-stager from another crew. From what he was able to glean from the man, Terrom’s band were the only crew to have arrived at planet Laitam. But he still hadn’t been able to gauge their exact numbers and strength. This was clearly information Oliver should have know as a ‘second-stager’, so it was impossible to ask without exposing who he was. But there was no more
information had by pretending. Terrom had said everything he was going to say freely.
“You think I spend too long with these first-stagers?” Oliver asked him, slowly untucking his shirt.
“It’s obvious,” Terrom said. “Even just the way you were talking to those men outside right now, it was as if you are their friend… what are you doing? Why are you removing your shirt?”
Tell me something Terrom,” Oliver said, as he lifted the loose shirt over his head. Terrom gasped audibly at seeing Oliver’s body. It was muscular and lean. Nanites were mostly to thank for his body maintaining its optimal form. But it was the multitude of scars that had startled him, and now had him transfixed. Some were clearly very old, only raised scar tissue professed the severity of the old wound. Others were much fresher, like the deep purple pockmarks from shrapnel he’d absorbed when he’d single-handedly overrun the zewka compound. His torso bespoke a history of violence.
“Blazing hydrons!” Terrom whispered aghast. “What in Triton’s dark center happened to you?” He swept his sandy blonde hair out of his eyes and leaned in to get a better look.
Tell me,” Oliver repeated, “do I look like a second-stager?”
Terrom looked at Oliver, and his eyes slowly widened. Confusion distorted his features. “You are… from another crew,” he insisted. “What other option is there? A first-stager?” Terrom laughed, but slowly grew silent as Oliver watched him without a hint of mirth. “You’re not from another crew?”
“Truth be told,” Oliver said. “I did come here with another crew, that was a long time ago. But I was not one of them.”
“Yarn’s crew,” Terrom said, eyes darting back and forth as comprehension dawned. “Yarn is not coming, is he? Did he exile you here? I am going to assume Riff is not your real name, likely another persona you took that from his crew. Who are you really?”
“I am…” who was he? Who was he to this man sitting in front of him? “I am Oliver, from Earth. A planet that Yarn and his crew of pirates sacked, without a second thought in their greed. My friends and family died so long ago I am the only person in the universe who still remembers who they were. I was drugged, taken against my will, and made into one of your drivers.” Oliver looked down at his body remembering the atrocities he’d witnessed… and committed.
The shock on Terrom’s face was evidence enough for Oliver to know the second-stager believed him. “I used the name Yarn and Riff because they were the last second-stagers I killed.” Oliver stepped closer to Terrom, so he was standing right over him.
“A driver?” Terrom spat. “All this time I’ve been talking to a driver?” Anger flashed across his face. “You’ve been using me, to what? Get information? You have no idea what you are dealing with here. You’re as good as dead already.”
He’s stalling, Oliver thought with grim satisfaction, trying to get extra seconds.
“Yes,” Oliver said. “I was getting information from you, but I am shocked to learn how advanced your plans are. Time has run out I’m afraid, Terrom. I need to know where your crew will do the chemical drops in the water supply. Before you speak.” Oliver held up a hand, cutting off Terroms’s retort. “I see you think you’re not going to tell me anything, but there are two things you should know. When I was made a driver by Yarn’s crew, among other skills, I was gifted the ability to extract information from first-stage enemies, fast, and in the heat of battle. Secondly, I have killed several second-stagers, and I promise you there is no real difference between you and I. Don’t make me demonstrate that.”
*
Galif watched Oliver through the small window in the door. He’d heard the far-fetched sounding stories about how Oliver had single-handedly dismantled Arif’s entire guard regiment with medieval weapons. Unlikely. Although, several of his colleagues whom he trusted vouched it was the truth. But other stories going around the complex were even more far-fetched and outlandish. Rumors of him being the Oliver… of old, as in King Oliver.
Galif didn’t entertain such fantasy, but there was definitely something strange about the man. He possessed a type of charisma that was hard to describe, but it made Galif want to be near the man. All the men here were affected by him in the same manner. He had them all pushing towards this goal of space travel. And, Galif believed him. Ponsy’s hammer! He actually believed that the man could do it. He may not be the hero of old, but there was something there.
Oliver was speaking some strange sounding language. Galif had to admit it was beautiful sounding, the way it was pronounced forward in the mouth, spoken easily, and musically, in comparison to Naharainee. Was Oliver from the same place as, Terrom, this foreigner? Was the other man a prisoner? Terrom had been given well-appointed accommodations, yet was confined to his room. Strange. Galif had been given no information about the man except that he was very dangerous. He didn’t look dangerous. In fact, he looked like a slimy feron. Galif had been in his share of tussles, and could not see how this foreigner was a threat.
Oliver removed his shirt to reveal wiry, scar-covered torso. Sweet Verity! Perhaps there was some credence to the stories about him. As sure as the mountain’s shadow, he had seen combat… a lot of combat. He struck an intimidating figure.
Galif squinted trying to determine the nature of the conversation. It seemed Terrom was bitter about something, judging from his tone.
Suddenly, so fast that it defied Galif’s imagination, Terrom leaped at Oliver. His hands were a blur. It was an attack! It all happened in a flash, and Galif hadn’t even the time to register it fully in his brain, let alone open the door to intervene.
Galif blinked. Oliver was responding to the attack, but… what on Laitam? Oliver was in several places at once. The afterglow of his form appearing and fading in the same instant. Each pose looked strange, yet elegant. Oliver was depicting forms found in nature, but with his body. Extended limbs, hands, and arms, in one moment resembling the stamin of some exotic flower, the next contorted like a deadly cat. That someone could command their body like that was… beautiful. Terrifying.
In this moment, Galif was watching a hero of old, and it was easy to imagine this is how the fabled King Oliver might have looked.
As quick as it began the attack was over, and Oliver was left holding his opponent's hand most unnaturally. The stranger's face was contorted in pain, and Oliver resumed the conversation, talking calmly. He lifted the arm high, so the man’s flank was exposed. His body was completely submissive to Oliver’s manipulation.
Galif heard the stranger screaming now, both in pain and fear. What was going on? Oliver seemed so calm, focused, and completely oblivious to the trauma of the man. Oliver drew a small blade and carefully tore a slit in the side of the man’s Shar robes. The knife was razor sharp, and the material parted easily like a curtain being drawn. As the light blue fabric opened up, the man’s pale, smooth, unblemished skin was exposed.
This man hasn’t seen a day in the sun in his life, Galif thought, noticing the light blue veins under the stark white skin. But what’s Oliver doing to him?
Oliver ran his finger along the smooth skin covering the rib cage, up to the armpit. He was searching for something. He nodded as his finger found its mark. Oliver’s brow was furrowed in intense concentration, and he seemed oblivious to the man’s screams. Galif’s eyes were glued to the door now as Oliver raised the blade to the spot in the man’s armpit. Screams of fear coming from the room quickly turned to howls of agony.
Galif could not reconcile the Oliver he knew, jovial, kind and empathetic, with the Oliver that was in this room right now, performing torture techniques advanced beyond his wildest nightmares. He was completely detached from the man’s suffering. Galif turned away from the window, feeling nauseous and unable to watch further.
*
Oliver emerged from the room, the guard at the door looked at Oliver with wide eyes, the blood was drained from his face. The sounds of a grown man weeping were muffled as Oliver closed the door carefully behind himself. He che
cked it was locked.
“I’m sorry you had to see that, Galif.” Oliver said sincerely. Wiping his hands. “The man in that room is a war criminal, guilty of atrocities. I needed information because we are simply out of time. He’ll be okay. He broke much faster than I expected. His physical wounds are minor. He is still extremely dangerous. He doesn’t come out of that room under any circumstances. The information I got means I need to leave immediately. Galif, I’m leaving you to watch this man.”
Galif’s expression dropped.
He thinks he’s being given a menial task, Oliver realized. He believes I undervalue him… and would rather come with me.
“When I say this man is dangerous,” Oliver said, “that is an understatement. He may not look like it to you, but you need to take my word on this. What’s more, his people will be looking for him. He must stay hidden.” He looked the disappointed guard in the eyes. “At all costs,” he added. “I’m trusting you to take care of this, Galif. Can I rely on you in this?”
Galif simply nodded.
Oliver left him to find Shael. He had to remain composed in front of the men, but the utter hopelessness of his plight had been driven home by his conversation with Terrom, albeit a one-sided conversation. Terrom had confirmed his worst fears, they were expecting an invasion from more crews. Each crew had many platoons of their own drivers. In his mind’s eye, Oliver could see hundreds of naked men in cryogenic sleep, lying on slabs. It was the scene that had greeted Oliver when he was woken all those years ago by Lego in the sterile ship. One driver was dangerous enough! The lengths he and Ponsy had taken to defeat Drake. They’d had time to train malitia, and execute a fully fledged plan. That was one single driver with no support, no modern weapons, just a driver’s cunning, and programming. And each crew had hundreds of Drakes.
