by L H Whitlock
Gloria stared at Lily wide-eyed. “Uh...”
“Don’t worry, we’ll get Vincent. Just keep the engine running. I have a feeling we’re gunna be coming in hot,” Brock reassured.
“All right, let’s get out of here.” Lily made her way out the door and down the crumbling stairs. Before the four parted ways outside the hotel, Lily said, “If we are not out in one planetary rotation, then leave without us.”
Gloria looked like she was about to protest, but stopped and nodded briskly.
Lily watched as Gloria and Zeth made their way over the rubble. It would take them at least half a rotation to get to the heli-shuttle. Gloria slipped on a rock, her arms flailed as she tried to regain her balance, a shriek escaping her lips. Zeth grabbed her by the elbow and helped her stabilize. Lily shook her head and turned to Brock, sweat was already beading on his forehead. He shrugged then turned to lead the way to the fortress.
Brock and Lily made their way silently to the fortress, climbing over loose rubble, careful to keep hidden behind boulders and structures. They circled wide along the fortress until they were at the west entrance. Two K’lors stood guard at the door. Piece of cake. Lily crept behind the first seven foot green K’Lor and shot him in the head. He fell with a loud thud. His partner only had a moment to look up before Brock shot him in the chest. Thankfully they had not increased security over the slave corridors. Not that it would have mattered, I can chop down K’lors all day long, Lily thought with a lopsided grin.
The door opened after Lily punched in the codes and used one of the K’lors thumbs on the activation pad.
She crept, gun first, through the open door and slid along the wall. She waved Brock in after making sure the hallway was clear. The moment he entered they ducked into a small bedroom. Stains covered the bare iron walls, a single light bulb hung from a jagged metal rod in the center of the ceiling and three dented mattresses consumed the room. Lily pulled up the map on her RAB while Brock reached up and uncovered the ceiling vent.
“It looks like I can crawl through the vents over to the holding cells.” Lily scrolled through the map. “There is not enough room for you. Get in disguise and scout the area.” Brock nodded and cupped his hands, offering a step to Lily. She placed one foot in them and he easily lifted her to the opening. After pulling herself inside, Brock secured the lid back in place.
Fighting her claustrophobic tendencies, Lily settled onto her stomach squeezing between the metal walls. Sweat dripped off her brow as she shuffled on her elbows and knees. Her foot slammed into the wall and a dull thud rang through the metal confinement. She froze as the echo slowly weaned away.
“Shh. Be careful,” Brock whispered, his voice barely audible.
Stifling a grunt, Lily shimmied through the tunnels, clearing cobwebs out of the way as she followed the map on her RAB. She turned a corner and came face to face with a ratta. The vermin squeaked as it devoured a dead bug in sickening crunches. The breath hitched in the back of Lily’s throat and she froze when the dirty animal tilted its head to look at her. It hissed, baring two long, pointed teeth. A muted scream escaped her and she slapped her hand over her mouth to stifle it. Stay calm, this is for Vincent. Deep breaths. She struggled to follow her own advice. If Brock knew all it took was a ratta to shut her down, she would never hear the end of it. Gathering her courage she reached out and shooed the critter away. It scurried off, leaving its meal behind. Bloody disgusting.
Her RAB blinked, signaling that the holding cell was just below her. Before Lily could open the vent, a large K’Lor walked past and entered into the closed room. Lily peered through the thin slits in the vent’s cover and waited for him to come back out. When he did, he was pulling Vincent behind him by his long, black hair.
Vincent snarled and gripped the K’lors fist. “Damn it! I said I told you everything I know!” Vincent’s steps were clumsy as he tried to maintain his balance and he repeatedly struck at the K’lors arm.
The K’lor didn’t respond, just hefted him down the hallway with hard tugs and struggling grunts.
Bile burned the back of Lily’s throat and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. He is still alive! Tears burned her eyes and she scrunched her nose to expel the pent-up emotion. He does not look good, but alive is alive.
She waited anxiously for the giant to turn the corner before dropping out of the vent and tucking against the wall. Peaking around the corner, she caught the tail end of the K’lor rounding another bend. She paused for a moment, allowing him to get slightly ahead before rushing down the hallway and flattening against the wall.
The K’lor threw open a door and yanked Vincent inside, slamming it shut behind them. Lily glanced over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t being followed, then sprinted to the room next to the one the K’lor had entered.
Lily locked the latch and pressed on the light switch. They flickered twice then illuminated the room. She brushed cobwebs and dust off her arms as she made her way through what appeared to be a dressing room with racks of servant attire, mirrors, and grimy showers with moldy tile.
Dropping to her knees, she pressed an ear against the wall and strained to hear what was going on in the other room. She could hear relatively well, but she needed to see what was going on. She pulled out the pocket knife she kept tucked into her boot and jabbed it into the wall to make a small hole. With each twist of her blade she held her breath, hoping she wouldn’t be caught. Finally she was able to dig away a space large enough to fit a video bug through.
She pulled the small, spider-shaped micro-camera from her pocket and shoved it through the hole. Using her RAB she maneuvered the bug up the wall and pulled up the image of the room on her screen.
Vincent hung from rusty chains in the center of the room, his body writhing, his knees bent, chest bare, and his clothes tattered. His pale skin was decorated with bright red lashings and one eye was swollen shut.
The K’lor grumbled, then marched out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Vincent spat on the floor. “Come on!” He yelled over his shoulder as though the K’lor was still there. “Be fucking reasonable.”
“Vincent!” Lily called out as loudly as she dared. His holding room may be empty, but who knew who was in the vicinity. Vincent stiffened slightly, but didn’t appear to hear her.
“Shit,” Lily mumbled as she surveyed the room. Her body grew cold when she spotted a collection of whips hanging on the far side of Vincent’s prison. Each wall of the room was decorated with various torture devices, ranging from whips twisted into abstract shapes, blades of all sizes, rods, hammers, and other tools. From the looks of him, this was not Vincent’s first trip to this room.
Vincent yelled and tugged at his restraints, they chimed hauntingly in the dungeons silence. The door to his cell slammed open, Vincent and herself turned to gaze at the opened threshold. A man charged inside, his short, stocky form moving quickly into the room. He absently kicked the door shut and adjusted his glove on his hand.
“Vincent, are you ready to talk?”
“Now’s really not a good time…”
“Don’t try your little games. It’s just you and me now and it’s time you start talking.”
“I’m trying—“
The man yanked a whip off the wall and struck Vincent’s side. He arched his back and cried out as the leathers sliced through his shirt and skin beneath.
“Come on!” Vincent yelled again. “I told you everything I know, it’s not my fault.”
The man snapped his whip against Vincent’s back. Vincent’s feet shuffled beneath him, his arms tugging desperately at their restraints.
Vincent’s attacker sucked in a loud breath then tossed a hand through his thick brown hair, his agitation evident. He stalked around Vincent, examined a wall full of weapons, and grabbed a bat.
Lily groaned, her skin tingling with phantom sympathy pain.
Vincent’s eyes followed the man, watching him through a curtain of black hair. “Come o
n, man. It’s not my fault it didn’t work out. That’s their damn fault.”
The brown-haired man circled Vincent, raised his weapon and swung, colliding with Vincent’s ribs in a swift blow. Vincent roared. His knees collapsed, causing him to dangle from the chains, supported only by his arms. The man battered him again, this time connecting with his thigh, then reared back and hit his stomach.
Vincent chocked, his eyes widening as the hard wood connected with his abdomen. The man paused briefly, Vincent sputtered for a word, but before he was able to string the syllables together, the man brought the bat down on his shin. A crack echoed, bouncing off the ceiling. A moment of silence passed then Vincent’s wails pierced the hot air.
Lily gagged at the sight of the prominent arch in Vincent’s right leg and clapped a hand over her mouth in fear that she would echo Vincent’s cries.
The man tossed the broken bat over his shoulder, threw his arm back, and hit Vincent with a right cross. Blood flung from Vincent’s mouth as his head jerked to the right.
The man drew his arm back once more and started forward, but stopped short.
“Wait! Wait! Wait! We can work this out. For fucks sake, there’s no need for this.” Spit ran down Vincent’s chin, dripping onto the floor.
The brown-haired man dropped his hand. “It’s about time. Now, tell me where they are.”
“I already told you, I don’t know. I told you everything I—“
The man threw his fist into Vincent’s cheek, then caught Vincent by his hair and decked him again.
Lily squeezed her eyes shut. It wasn’t his fault…he told them everything he knew…was the ambush because of him? Her anger was fleeting as she peeked back at her RAB, Vincent had been tortured for months. Golan was known for getting what he wanted, and he enjoyed the excessive force. Not everyone could withstand this kind of punishment for long. Guilt fluttered in her chest, growing increasingly persistent. She should have been there for him. She wished it were her that was taking the beating, not him. Never him.
The door of Vincent’s cell swung open and General Mickaal stepped into the torture chamber. He was tall and trim, instead of stacked and bulky like Ulrick. Dammit, stop comparing everyone to Ulrick! Lily scolded herself, disturbed by her reaction. Mickaal’s silver hair was spun into a bun, an unusually feminine hairstyle for a male of his status. His eyes shone a slightly darker silver, which were surprisingly soft despite his cruel intentions. The General often fought alongside Ulrick and was one of the few remaining Vesilla, an ancient race of warriors from the same planetary system as Hilia. Vesillas were known for their ability to project powerful frequencies into opponent’s minds which crippled most races, known as the Brink.
Lily’s head throbbed with just the memory. The last time she experienced the Brink, Alberta had crashed their ship into a moon trying to evade the attack, and that was the end of Home Ship Number Seven. Though the Brink was amazingly powerful it had a huge flaw. The frequency projected within a certain radius and no one was safe if they were in range.
“Thank you Regal, I will take it from here,” Mickaal said, his voice low and airy.
“Golan specifically instructed me to do this.” Regal’s eyes narrowed. “Or do you think I do not serve our lord properly.”
Mickaal sighed lazily. “I think you do your best…”
“And you think you’re so special? You and Ulrick. The favorites. Well, I’m on to your games. Your nothing but entitled, prissy ass—“
“You really should leave now,” Mickaal said without turning around.
Regal clenched his fists, opened his mouth to say something but quickly closed it again. Mickaal turned and raised an eyebrow. Regal pressed his lips into a tight line, turned on his heel, and headed out the door. He stopped briefly in the threshold and muttered something.
Mickaal crossed his arms over his chest. “What was that?”
Regal scowled, stepped into the hallway, and slammed the door shut.
Mickaal sighed and circled Vincent with lazy steps, his hands clasped behind his back. Lily winced as he stopped in front of his captor, his pewter eyes staring at him intensely. Vincent squirmed under the taller man’s scrutiny.
“Now, you will answer to me. Where is she? What have you told Regal,” Mickaal asked, his voice eerily low.
Vincent didn’t respond.
Mickaal laughed in a slow methodical tone, then the Brink hit. Though the attack was meant for Vincent, Lily was in range and the frequency radiated through her mind, the pain ceasing her breath and drawing a silent scream. She cupped her hands over her ears and collapsed to her knees.
The door to Vincent’s cell swung open with such a force its handle indented the wall with a loud bang. Lily jumped, her heart nearly leaping from her throat. The Brink ceased. Lily struggled to her knees and gazed back into the screen on her RAB.
Ulrick stood in the doorway, a glare pressing into his features as he looked from Vincent to Mickaal. Lily slapped a hand over her gaping mouth and stared at the tall, bronzed warrior. He was huge; seeing him in the distance on the battlefield was nothing like seeing him up close. She could swear he was staring right through the two men and at her hiding spot, but that had to be her imagination. There’s no way he knows I’m here…right? His markings sprang to life, they danced along his arms and wrapped around his thick neck. She felt hers begin to churn in response, twirling around her arm to a slow melody. Taking another deep breath, she tried to calm the dance, but it only increased in intensity when the Hilian stepped into the room.
Ulrick wore a black t-shirt, tucked into black slacks that stretched over his powerful legs with every step. He seemed to hunch his broad shoulders as he entered the doorway, his roped arms flexing as he slammed the door shut. His dark eyes studied the room intensely, as though looking for something he couldn’t see.
Lily held her breath, she had a feeling she knew what he was looking for. Her.
“My friend! I was told you would be here!” Mickaal said as Ulrick stepped up to him. Though Mickaal was a bit taller than Ulrick, the Hilian dwarfed the man with his muscle mass alone, making the General beside him look dainty. They grasped forearms, a common sign of respect and comradery.
“Mickaal,” Ulrick greeted. “Is this the man?”
“Yes.”
“I have some questions for him.”
“I already asked about Base; he’s not talking,” Mickaal replied while wandering over to the wall of twisted whips. He ran a long, thin finger over the roped leather and chuckled when Vincent stiffened.
“I don’t want to know about Base.” Ulrick pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, walked up to Vincent, and grabbed him by the hair. “Where is she?” he asked in a sharp tone.
Vincent turned and spat a wad of blood onto the floor.
Ulrick growled, “I said, where is she?”
Mickaal sighed. “As I said, my friend, it’s useless.” Another wave of excruciating pain hit Lily as Mickaal raised his vibrations. Unable to handle much more of the assault, Lily doubled over in pain.
“Knock it off,” Ulrick growled.
The piercing, paralyzing pain ceased. “What is it?” Mickaal asked.
Ulrick stepped forward slowly, eyes focused on the wall that separated the two rooms. Lily gasped; Ulrick’s markings jumped and increased speed. A tingling swept up her arm and heat spread through her body as her markings adjusted to match Ulrick’s odd dance. Her hand pressed against the wall on its own accord, as though reaching for him. Ulrick’s eyes widened, his nostrils flared, his massive chest expanded with each heavy breath and his sculpted arms tensed at his sides.
Lily was so focused on Ulrick that she hadn’t even noticed that another man had entered the holding cell until he spoke. “M-Master U-Ulrick. Jago and Kira are here. They-they are asking for you.”
Lily tore her gaze from Ulrick and glanced at the frail Liklin who stood in the doorway. He played nervously with his hands and his orange scales shone a bright red, a sign of
excessive sun exposure.
“Tell them I am on my way,” Ulrick said, not bothering to turn and address the Liklin.
The Liklin nodded abruptly then turned and practically ran from the room. Ulrick paused in the doorway and stared at Lily’s hiding spot behind the wall. Lily could swear his eyes were locked to hers, hypnotizing her through the screen.
“Will you be joining us at dinner?”
The breath caught in Lily’s throat, her eyes widened and she shuffled an inch back.
A small, almost non-existent smile fluttered over Ulrick’s handsome face before mellowing, once more, into a firm line. He turned to address Mickaal, “Don’t kill him,” he said, then left the room.
“Well, looks like it’s your lucky day,” Mickaal said before starting after Ulrick. Two female Liklin’s rushed into the room and pulled Vincent down from his restraints.
“Don’t let him die just yet,” Mickaal said from the doorway. “Our guests are expecting him.”
“Shit,” Lily mumbled as Vincent was dragged from the room.
She pushed herself off the floor and pillaged the racks of clothing until she found the female serving outfits. Yanking one of the skimpy garments off the hanger, she slipped it on, and chanced a glance in the mirror. Figures, Lily thought with a scowl. The shirt only reached the middle of her rib cage and the sheer orange top showed off the darkened circles of her nipples. The green shorts were just as awful, seemingly more underwear then an actual article of clothing. Fucking men. They’re the same no matter where you go. She slipped her feet into flats and unhooked her RAB, safely storing it inside the bag she was leaving for Brock to retrieve before he got Vincent.
Pulling a changeling ring out of a compartment in her belt, she slipped it around her middle finger, then watched as the holographic camouflage device took effect. The freckles from her nose faded, her aqua eyes changed to a light brown, her markings—which now lay dormant on her arm—disappeared along with scars accumulated from years of battle. She watched as the hologram covered a particular scar from her upper thigh and wiped her hand over it. Although she could no longer see the white lines, she could still feel their indentations. Undoing her bun, she allowed her hair to fall down her back in waves. She always thought her hair was long, but now it fell clear to her hips, she flipped it over her shoulder. How the hell does Gloria have such long hair, I want to rip it all out! She took a deep breath, swallowed her nerves and left the changing room.
