Freedom

by Maureen Toonkel

  “And just in case you doubt my words, watch carefully.” Platt pressed the button that his finger was hovering over. On the computer screen there was an explosion as the office building erupted into massive flames and balls of puffy smoke.

  Josh and Keith starred wide-eyed at the screen, watching in horror as the unknown building crumbled to the ground, and nearby passerby rushed to the scene. Platt allowed the screen to go blank. He moved over to the other end of the panel and pointed to a button that was glowing with a bright purple hue.

  “If I were to press down on this button—” He laid his finger across the purple tab. “The Gladiator would be blown to bits.” An image of the U.S.S. Gladiator appeared on the computer monitor. The screenshot of the vessel faded and was replaced with a live-action close-up of Ensign Saad seated at the helm on the ship’s Bridge. Platt laughed heartily as he lifted his finger from the button. “But I suppose I should fetch Dr. Loring first before I do that. I think he would enjoy watching your execution.”

  The wall slid shut. The only light came through the cracks around the wall. Keith and Josh were alone again, still imprisoned.

  Beverly Glenna was lost in thought. She sat at the communication console inside the James T. Kirk space pod with her hands positioned over the controls. It looked like she was busy trying to make connections with the Gladiator, but in reality she was daydreaming. Pictures in her mind flipped back and forth between the lovemaking with Colin, those three glorious days on the Gladiator with Keith, that horrible argument under the tent with Colin, and that moment when Keith walked in on her and Colin naked on the floor of the James K. The worse part of all of this was that she couldn’t make up her mind. Who did she want to be with? The logical choice was Colin. She had known him for years. They were engaged and their futures were laid out. But something was drawing her to Keith. Their relationship was new, fresh, unpredictable, and exciting. She didn’t know where it would lead. Yes, she needed to make a choice. But there was a selfish part of her that wanted to keep both of them. Soon, she thought, Colin will return to the regular work of the Architectural Team, and I will return to the Gladiator. I can tell Keith I broke up with Colin, and he would not know the truth. Neither would Colin. I could have them both. Beverly smiled to herself.

  “What has you so happy?” asked Colin Evans, who was sitting alongside her working on some structural printouts.

  “Just thinking about us,” giggled Beverly.

  “Good. I like seeing you happy. Keep thinking those thoughts.”

  No, thought Beverly, that would not be fair. I must make up my mind. She looked over at Colin. He was absorbed in his diagrams and didn’t notice her staring at him. Gosh, he is so handsome. He is absolutely perfect. A girl would be crazy to let a man like Colin go.

  “Bleep. Bleep.” The entry buzzer chimed unexpectedly and caused the Ensign to jump off her chair. After Keith’s untimely emergence into the James K, Colin had insisted she keep the pod door locked. She hadn’t always remembered to do so, but on this occasion the door was locked. Beverly glanced at the monitor to see who was at the door. Then she depressed a button on the console, and the entrance slid open. Commodore Naper strode in.

  At first, suspicious of the locked door, the Commodore glanced around the craft and seemed satisfied that the pair had been working and not otherwise occupied. “Have you been able to establish contact with the Gladiator or with Captain Stoner?” he asked.

  “Negative on both accounts,” answered Ensign Glenna. “I have not been able to connect with Captain Torgenson either, sir.”

  “Has anyone returned yet from Brisula City? Any communication of any kind from down below?”

  “No sir, nothing.”

  “Hm. This is most puzzling. I would think we would have heard something by now.”

  “Sir,” said Colin, “perhaps we should send down a search party.”

  Naper thought for a moment and then rejected the idea. “No, I don’t think so. There is no reason to think anything is wrong. We know there are communications problems. I am sure that is why we haven’t heard from either captain. Carry on with what you have been doing. I will check back with you in several hours.”

  As soon as the Commodore exited the pod, Colin told Beverly to lock the door. Then he scooped her up in his arms and carried her once again to the back of the craft.

  “He said he won’t be back for several hours so we can have some fun without worrying about getting caught by anyone.” He gently laid Beverly down on the floor and started tugging at her uniform pants. She smiled broadly, pulled his head down to her face, whispered “I love you Colin Evans,” and kissed him on the lips.

  Finally they stopped walking. Dave Andrews was not sure he could have made it any further. He was feeling quite fatigued. Very weak and nauseous. Actually, sick to his stomach. He studied the massive, silver doors standing tall across the tunnel’s pathway. The giant letters ZOO hung on a plague swinging freely from the ceiling.

  Colonel Flax pushed open the entrance doors.

  “In,” he commanded.

  Dave and Marlana entered and were immediately immersed in the sounds, sights, and smells of a real zoo. They could hear birds chirping, antelope snorting, a monkey chattering, and even a lion roaring. There also was the sound of children laughing. Dave noticed a group of school children milling around an aquarium filled with fish and turtles lazily swimming to-and-fro. They must be on a school trip, he surmised.

  A Brisulan in a workman’s uniform approached them. He was a muscular man with large hands and a stern and very serious countenance.

  “Colonel?” the man said eying the two Gladiator officers.

  “Gus,” said Flax. “I have just purchased these two slaves. “Remove their chains, and then please put them to work cleaning the chimpanzee cage.”

  They were taken over to the backside of the exhibit labeled Great Apes: Chimpanzees. Gus withdrew a ring of keys from his uniform pocket. First he used the keys to relieve the officers of their hand and leg restraints, and then he opened a small door. They had to get down on their hands and knees to crawl through. Once on the other side Gus handed them buckets of soapy water, brooms, plastic bags, and rags.

  “Scoop up all the poop, banana peels, and any other debris. That’s what the bags are for. Scrub down the floors, walls, bars, windows, ropes, and trees,” instructed Gus. “No need to be scared of the chimps. They are used to the zookeepers and will keep their distance.”

  And with that said, Gus used a different key to open another small door, this one leading straight into the chimpanzee cage. He motioned for the two slaves to enter. They pushed their brooms and buckets through the little doorway and crawled into the monkey cage. Then Gus shut and locked the door.

  The stench was overwhelming. Dave Andrews began fighting the urge to throw up. The nausea he was feeling for the last couple of hours was now consuming him. He quickly moved over to a corner of the cage. Standing with his hands on the wall and his feet spread apart, he lowered his head and began heaving. When he was done his ribs ached, and he felt like all the energy in his body had been zapped away, but the nausea was gone, and for that he was grateful.

  “Commander, are you all right?” Dr. Berg stood next to him with a look of consternation across her face.

  “Yes, I am feeling better now, although somewhat embarrassed, I must say.”

  “Don’t be. I’m a doctor. I’ve seen people vomit thousands of times,” she chuckled. “But I am concerned. Was it the smell in here?”

  “That contributed to it. If I am to be honest, I may have to say that you were probably right not to eat that raw fish. I have been feeling nauseous for several hours. So most likely it is the fish.”

  “Hmm. Maybe. Do you have any other symptoms besides being nauseous?”

  “Just fatigue.”

  “Here.” Marlana reached out and touched Dave’s forehead with her hand. “You definitely have a fever. This is quite interesting. You have the same symptoms as
the Flax children and as Bess Tremont.”

  “Have I caught something from them?” Dave asked. The throbbing in his ribs was subsiding, and while he was still feeling quite weak he was thinking he was going to be fine. “You seem OK.”

  “Yes. I do, don’t I? And so did Dr. Monroe and Colonel Flax and Mrs. Flax. It is either some type of virus or poisoning. People are not always affected the same way. Some people may react faster while others may be able to remain resistant for a longer or even indefinite period of time. Children for instance usually react much quicker to viruses and poisons.”

  “Well, I am feeling better now, so I suppose we better get to work.”

  “I suppose,” agreed Marlana. “Gus didn’t look like a very friendly guy and I’d hate to see us be fed to the lions if we don’t please him.” They both laughed as they picked up their brooms and other cleaning supplies. “Dave, how could we have been so wrong about Colonel Flax? Josh was so certain he could be trusted, and now Flax has turned Josh and Keith over to General Platt for execution. And made us into his personal slaves! This cannot be happening.” But it was happening.

  Dave did not answer. He simply looked at her, shrugged his shoulders, and then went to work cleaning up the fish and apples he had puked up.

  “How are we coming along?” asked Dennis Pearson as he came through the Science Center door. Bonnie Shea and Jackson Greene looked up from the suction device they were working on. The two had spent the last hour measuring then creating the correct size clamps and washers that would securely connect the sucking mechanism up to the pesticide hoses. Jackson just needed to make a couple of final twists with his ratchet wrench to ensure that all the clamps were tight, and then they would be ready to hook up the hoses.

  “We are doing fine, sir,” reported Bonnie. “Just about ready to connect the hoses.” She noticed the strange looking device Pearson was holding. “What is that, sir?”

  Dennis walked over to Jackson and placed the object on the work bench. “You can touch, but don’t press this button.” He took the officer’s hand and gently laid it over a very tiny round button on one side of the odd shaped device.

  Jackson glided his hands over the surface of the device being careful to avoid the small button. “Is it a timer?” he asked.

  “Bingo!” exclaimed Dennis. Jackson smiled, proud of himself while Bonnie shook her head. She had no idea.

  “I thought we should set a timer for the suction process so that we don’t overfill the bags and take a chance on busting them. I’ve asked Ben Rubin to calculate how long it should take to vacuum up all the water that comes from the melted metal. Once we’ve reached that amount and perhaps a bit more, we can safely stop. Otherwise we could keep sucking and not know when to stop, as there is always some moisture in the atmosphere that the system could detect.”

  “That is a great idea, sir,” said Bonnie. “But why such an odd timer? We have timers on our computers?”

  “Yes, Lieutenant, but I needed to rig up a timer that could be attached directly to the sprayer and work with the water volume in the bags.”

  Jackson reached over for the timer and located the connecting rod. Feeling the end with his thumb and forefinger, he said, “Sir, we’re in luck. I think we have the right size clamp. We won’t have to construct one.” He got up, went over to a drawer on the other side of the lab, poked around inside it, and withdrew two copper-coated metal clamps. He opened a second drawer, and after feeling around for a moment, he removed two small, round washers. “These should work.” Returning to the work bench, he attached the washers and clamps to the timer and suction device, and tightened them securely. The two mechanisms were now fastened firmly to one another.

  “Fine,” said Dennis. “Let’s find Rubin so we can program the timer. Then we need to dismantle the pesticide sprayer so we can connect it with the suction device and to the spraying hoses.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  June 25, 2030 Hours

  Sitting in a dark cell without access to a clock or a window was beginning to make Keith uneasy. It felt like it had been hours since Platt had lowered the wall, but he knew it hadn’t actually been very long. Did Platt really say they were going to be executed? Well, he was a dead man anyway. If he lived to get back to the Gladiator he would be court-martialed for treason. Despite what the Captain said, he would be found guilty, and the penalty for treason was death. So if Platt killed him, at least he would avoid the embarrassment of going on trial and bringing shame to his parents.

  “Sir, if we are to be executed, why didn’t they just give us enough poison in the apples so we’d never wake up? Or shoot us after we were knocked out? Why let us live just to then kill us?” questioned Keith.

  “Well, those are certainly intriguing questions, but right now our main concern is figuring a way out of here.” Josh pushed himself up off the floor and began yanking once again on the bars.

  As Keith watched the Captain, his eyes slowly traveled up the length of the steel rod that the Captain had his hands wrapped around. Keith stood up alongside the Captain and tilted his head up to the ceiling. Straining to focus his eyes as best as he could in the dim light, he was certain that he could see chains at the top of the bars. Sure, the steel bars are connected to chain links. That’s how they are lowered down through the ceiling.

  “Captain,” gasped Keith. “There may be a way out.”

  “How?”

  “I think there are chains connecting the bars to the ceiling. If I can cut through the chains, at least one of us can climb out over the top of the bars.”

  “That sounds good but how do you plan to cut the chains?”

  “Easy.” Keith reached down into one of his boots and after a few seconds held up a small hacksaw. The shiny, sharp metal teeth glowed brightly in the dark cell.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “Um. I suppose this is going to get me in trouble.”

  “That depends. Where did you get it?”

  “When I heard I was part of the landing party returning to Brisula, I was worried about not having something on me for cutting locks, handcuffs, ropes, and stuff. You know, like last time. So I had gone to the Supply Unit and told them I needed a hacksaw for a problem with a machine in the laundry room. They let me sign one out. I didn’t know that Lieutenant Commander Pearson had prepared backpacks with bolt cutters and stuff until we were assembled in the Conveyor Port. By then I had the hacksaw concealed in my boot.”

  “Well, let’s see if it’s of any use,” said Josh. “I suppose you need to use my shoulders as your ladder?” He knelt down so that Keith could climb up onto his back and then slowly rose as erect as he could to give the Lieutenant as much height as possible. “Déjà vu, eh?” he laughed.

  For the next hour Keith worked diligently sawing through two of the steel chains. They paused once halfway through to give Josh’s back a rest. With his backside throbbing, Josh had watched as Keith flexed his numb fingers over and over trying to bring feeling back to them. Josh was amazed at the work ethic of his young navigator. He was so proud of this fine officer. It was an honor to be his commanding officer. I only wish Keith could realize how remarkable he is. There is no way I am going to allow UGC to bring any significant charges against Keith. UGC needs men like Keith, and they need to reward men like him instead of looking for ways to drive them away.

  “That’s it,” announced Hampton as he made the final cut. “We can crawl through. Do you want to go first, sir?”

  “No, Keith. You go ahead. You’re already up there.”

  “OK, sir. I will climb over, and then I will use the lock pick from my backpack to open the cell and get you out.”

  “Sounds great. Hurry!”

  Keith hoisted himself up onto the top of the bars pushing down on the Captain’s shoulders. He wiggled through the narrow opening between the two chains he had hacked through. It was a tight fit between the bars and the ceiling, and he had to hold his breath and squeeze in his stomach. But he made it thr
ough and then dropped with a soft thud to the floor, landing on his knees.

  Dennis Pearson was quite pleased with himself and with his crew. The work on Project Melt was proceeding flawlessly. Things were moving along right on time. In fact it looked like they were going to get things accomplished ahead of schedule.

  “Denny, there is a call coming in from Admiral Wilcox. Shall I put it on speaker?” asked Diane Pearson from her seat at the Communications Station.

  “No, Lieutenant. I will take the call in my office. Please transfer it there.” He walked over to his wife, buried his hands in her thick, red curls and whispered in her ear, “And no eavesdropping, dear.”

  During the elevator ride and the walk to his office, Dennis rehearsed in his mind the words, the lies actually, that he was going to say to the Admiral. I wonder what the prison sentence is for lying to an Admiral? Well, at least I’ll be in good company. At the rate we are going they will have to open a cellblock just for the Gladiator crew. Me for lying to the Admiral, Hampton for treason, the Captain for turning the ship around without proper authority, Loring for espionage and even Diane for wire tapping!

  He picked up the ringing phone in his office.

  “Good afternoon, sir,” Dennis greeted the Admiral.”

  “Lieutenant Commander Pearson, where is Captain Stoner?”

  “He is still on the planet’s surface.”

  “Please connect me to his stat phone.”

  “I am sorry sir, but I cannot do that. We have lost all communications with the planet.”

  “Has the telescope been repaired?”

  “Not yet, sir. We have run into some mechanical delays.”

  “That is unfortunate. It is imperative that the telescope becomes functional. Listen, Pearson, the whereabouts of the U.S.S. Skybounder has become a top priority. Not only are we concerned about the lives of the two officers aboard the ship, but the craft was carrying some highly classified and very dangerous cargo. We need to know what happened to the Skybounder. If that cargo should fall into enemy hands the outcome could be devastating. Now, can you get word to Captain Stoner that I need to speak to him immediately? I am getting ready to leave for the conference on Space Station 17, and I would really like to connect with Captain Stoner before my departure.”