The cell, when they arrived, was gigantic, with a semi private restroom area, bunk beds stacked four high across one end of the room, and two long tables in the center. A lab tech was waiting with two robo servers. He gave the guards a hard time, again in Khagrish, presumably for keeping him waiting. The guards shepherded the humans into the cell, followed by the robo servers who deposited large bowls of mush and stacks of a bread-like substance on the tables. Pitchers containing liquid followed.
“Plates, mugs over there,” the tech said, pointing at cupboards above a small sink. “You clean up after yourselves by throwing the debris and leftovers in the disposal.” He jerked his thumb at a unit set into the wall. Having discharged his tasks as rapidly as possible, he and the robos departed.
The guards sealed the force field barrier across the entry to the cell and marched away.
“We have to assume the cell is monitored,” Harker said. “Be careful what you say, be conscious of what you do.”
“You assume whatever you want, I’m going to eat while I have the chance,” said a man Megan didn’t know. He moved toward the table. “We can do the introductions the doc wanted while we chow down.” Eyebrow raised, he checked with Megan. “Ok by you?”
“Yes. Sure.” She took a seat next to him.
Two people went to fetch the plates and mugs, and the little group of humans clustered at one end of the long table.
Megan kicked off the introductions as she was handed a plate full of uninspiring mush. “I’m Dr. Megan Garrison, from the Amarcae 7 colony. I have no idea what happened—I went to sleep and woke up here.”
Of the ten people at the table, including herself, eight were from the colony and two were crewmen from a space freighter. She was a bit skeptical the man beside her, Walt Ezden, was what he claimed to be, as he had the air and bearing of a soldier. Tall, well-muscled with a quiet lethality to his moves, he seemed ready for any contingency. His gray eyes were measuring as he stared at the others around the table. Sizing up weaknesses and strengths perhaps? Her sister Jill had been in the Special Forces, so Megan had met many elite soldiers. A mercenary maybe. Or retired military? But, if he truly was a trained fighter, much better for him to keep his secret.
Harker assumed the leadership role, sitting at the head of the table and directing the conversation, which made her uneasy. She’d never dealt directly with him before, but his comments in the lab were fresh on her mind. She didn’t like the inference he’d made about collaborating with the Khagrish. He was a big man, running a bit to fat nowadays, but probably still someone to be reckoned with in a fistfight. When patching people up in the colony emergency room on more than one occasion, she’d heard it said Harker fought dirty. His sandy blond hair was thinning but his green eyes were sharp and shrewd. He apparently believed there was opportunity for him to do well in this crisis and many of the colonists appeared to be placing their desperate hopes for survival on him.
After the bland but filling dinner was finished and the table cleared, a couple of people went to explore the cell. Others claimed beds and retreated to rest or at the very least, be alone with their thoughts. Megan lingered at the table, treating raw scrapes one of the women had gotten on her wrists while restrained.
Walt walked up, a box in his hand. “We have first aid type stuff, figured you ought to have it, doc.”
“How can you tell what an alien first aid kit looks like?” She took the box and inspected the contents. The prize was revealed to be a standard—if cheap, low end—Sectors first aid kit, taken from a freighter perhaps. “Better than nothing,” she said with a smile. “I hope I’m not required to remove anyone’s appendix while we’re here.”
Walt sat down. “I wonder how many other humans have been through this place.” He took in the spartan furnishings and the drearily painted walls and floor. “The room appears unused, like most of this facility we saw on the way over here. But the existence of the prisoner we encountered earlier implies there are problems in their system, escapees maybe.” Raising one eyebrow, Walt leaned close. “Did he really speak gibberish to you?”
Megan stammered. “It was—um, he said—”
Walt patted her hand. “Never mind. I like your discretion.”
“You’re not a freighter crewman, are you?”
He winked. “I have discretion too.” Rising, he pointed at the bunks. “Might be a good idea to claim one before all the choice spots are gone, doc.”
“Thanks, right after I’ve checked everyone’s condition.” She forced herself to keep her voice cheery. “A doctor’s never entirely off duty, especially here.”
The next day began uneventfully with the guards checking their number and the robos bringing the same allotment of flavorless mush for breakfast.
As she was finishing her meal, noises and commotion drew her attention to the hall and a new band of humans was thrust into the cell. Hurrying to the edge of the force barrier, Megan counted thirteen, in varying stages of physical distress, much as her own group had been divided between those who’d received the proper treatment to relieve stasis syndrome and those who didn’t.
“We need to get these people to beds since they’re disoriented,” she said, as she took pulses and tried to reassure people. “Prevent follow-on injuries or trauma.”
Harker stood by, hands on his hips, as Walt and a colonist named Nicolle organized the effort.
“How many of you were there?” Megan asked the woman she was tending.
“Twenty,” the girl whispered, shaking so hard she could hardly enunciate. “I was on the side that didn’t get any treatment.”
“Seven more dead.” Megan shot a despairing glance at Harker and Walt as she did the dismal math, totaling the casualties they now knew about.
“You may lose a couple more here, doc,” Walt said as he picked a woman up. Her head lolled as she’d evidently passed out.
“Back away from the barrier.” A guard stood in the corridor, flanked by two more with weapons drawn.
Megan moved, helping another man limp with her toward the center of the room. “I need supplies to treat these people,” she said over her shoulder to the guard. “Please.”
“Dr. Lampergg has sent you an allotment.” The guard gestured and a robo drifted into view, carrying a container Megan hoped was full of the promised medical necessities.
Harker stepped forward, “I’m in charge here, and I’ll take those.”
Mouth open in disbelief, Megan glared at him. “Harker, those are for the people suffering.”
“Might be more useful for those of us who are already recovered,” he said. “Give us extra energy and calories lacking in the junk they’re feeding us. Besides, some of the sick are too far gone anyway.”
Anger burned through her body in a sheet of fire. “And giving them the right energy bar might save them. Who the seven hells do you think you are?”
Walt interposed himself. “And Lampergg sent them to Megan. He’s the guy in charge. Am I right?” he asked the disinterested guard.
“I’m to give them to the one you’ve named as being a doctor,” the Khagrish said. “What you do with the bars after I leave isn’t my concern. I will tell you Dr. Lampergg doesn’t react well to his orders being disregarded.”
As if he’d completely lost interest, Harker walked away. “Suit yourself.”
The barrier flickered and a portion of it blanked out so the robo could pass the container to Megan and Walt. Then the guard brought the full energy back up with a sizzle and a spark before he departed.
“Let me carry this for you, doctor,” Walt said.
Although he was matter of fact, she thought there was extra emphasis in his tone. Megan was grateful for his presence and his apparent inclination toward thwarting Harker. For sure no one was going to try confiscating the bars from Walt. Harker’s demeanor was making her nauseous and worried. How would their captors react to a human turncoat? Would Harker’s attitude sway others to betray their own kind in hopes of currying fa
A few people rushed to get her mugs of water while she and Walt made the rounds of the victims, one of whom had lapsed into a coma. Despite Megan’s best efforts, the woman died before dawn. When breakfast was delivered, she told the guards of the death and, shortly thereafter, a team of lab techs accompanied by six armed guards retrieved the body.
Megan turned away from the barrier as the Khagrish moved out of sight around the curve of the corridor and headed for her bunk.
“Hey, doc, aren’t you going to eat?” Harker said from his place at the head of the table.
“I’m not hungry. Call me if I’m needed, if anyone gets worse. Otherwise I’ll wake up in two hours and do rounds again. It’s a trick I learned as an intern, grabbing sleep when I can, but of course without ignoring the patients’ needs for monitoring.”
She climbed into the narrow bed she’d chosen, in the furthest corner of the room away from as many others as possible. Wrapped in her thin, scratchy blanket she stared at the wall calculating the nonexistent odds of escape. Briefly, she wondered what had happened to the other prisoner, the alien she’d seen, the one who knew her sister’s name. And what of her sisters?
The torture continued nonstop for hours. Days maybe. Mateer had no idea, lost in a haze of pain, drugs and anger. His bone deep hatred of the Khagrish was what sustained him as the enemy came and went, administering beatings, electric shocks, nerve stimulants and other pain inducing “treatments”. He was kept bound to an upright framework, naked and spread eagled for whatever they chose to do to him. Unfortunately, the genetic engineering used to create him and his brethren had also given them much faster than normal healing abilities so, where a prisoner of another species might have died long since, Mateer’s body kept regenerating itself, repairing the damage. Periodically, he was hooked up to nutrients so he wasn’t going to be able to die of thirst or hunger.
He’d closed his mind to Pratym, in case the soldier disobeyed his order and lingered near the building complex. He was too far distant from the rest of the Badari for anyone else to hear an echo of his agony.
The Khagrish interrogators, who worked in shifts, fired questions at him. Why was he there? What was he doing inside the building? Where were the other members of the pack? What did he know about the destruction of his lab? Mateer refused to answer anything they asked and prayed to the Great Mother to set him free by taking his life.
Eventually, he realized the barrage of torture had stopped. Hanging in the restraints, barely conscious, he braced with the shreds of strength he had left for whatever the Khagrish planned to attempt next. He’d never allow them the satisfaction of breaking him. No Badari would, much less one as high in the pack hierarchy as he was ranked.
A lab tech appeared and ran a scanner over his body, standing too close. Out of habit, Mateer snarled and barely missed the frightened tech’s hand as he extended his fangs.
Derisive laughter sounded from off to the side, and Mateer turned his head with great effort.
“Well done, 802. You Badari as you called yourselves never will admit defeat, will you? One thing I like about you animals.” The man standing there clapped his hands slowly, as if applauding Mateer’s resistance.
“Lampergg.” Mateer spit the name out before he could stop himself. He was at the outer boundary of his resilience. This man had been the top assistant to the Khagrish who ran the lab where Mateer and his packmates were created until Lampergg transferred out to head his own research facility. Mateer remembered Dr. Gahzhing, the diabolical scientist who’d run the original facility, had been in a good mood for days after his protégé achieved the honor of promotion.
“I see you remember me. I’m flattered.” Lampergg pulled a stool closer and sat, watching Mateer. “Now Jordah, my security chief has all these questions he wants answers to, answers I’m quite sure you’ll never give up, although I agreed to let him try.” He eyed Mateer’s battered body critically. “Seems he’s done his best. Or worst, depending on your point of view.” He clasped his hands around one knee and leaned back. “Now I’m not really too concerned about what brought you here because we’ve made a lot of improvements to our security after your pack destroyed the other lab.”
Mateer bit his lip until it bled, a small pain lost in the sea of agony, but one he controlled. He couldn’t let Lampergg goad him or tempt him into providing any information. This was another game the Khagrish wanted to play, a prelude to more torture no doubt.
“It’s highly unlikely you’d be here without your pack, if any of them are still alive. We’ve run scans and found no sign of any other animals in the vicinity, so I’m guessing you were the lone survivor, drawn to the familiar surroundings my lab here represents to one such as you. A well trained animal misses its cage after all. No need to confirm or deny. I’m excited to have one of you to run experiments on.”
Arrogant fool. You just keep right on thinking we wiped ourselves out along with your colleagues. What would it take for the Khagrish to accept the intelligence of the soldiers they’d created? Mateer shook his head slightly but remained silent.
The scientist leaned closer, eyes gleaming. “In fact, tomorrow I’m going to initiate my own experiment in a new line of research that particularly intrigued me when I read about it in the bulletins Dr. Gahzhing used to send out.” He rose, dusting off his lapels. “Sleep well.”
Too late Mateer realized a lab tech had come up behind him. The Khagrish jabbed an injector into his arm and vertigo made the room appear to spin, the world going dark as he roared his defiance one more time.
The morning routine was different, Megan realized. Instead of marching away, the guards lounged in the hall watching them eat breakfast and as soon as the first few people were done and dumping their used plates into the disposal, the black-garbed soldiers re-entered the cell, weapons drawn. “Clearly, you’ve had long enough to eat. Time to move,” the leader said. “Line up.”
“Where are we going?” Megan asked as she and Nicolle helped one of the weaker women out of her bunk and over to the muster line painted on the floor. “Can’t the people who aren’t feeling well stay here?”
“Dr. Lampergg wants all the human subjects assembled,” the guard told her, brandishing his weapon. “Now move out before I administer some painful encouragement.”
She walked with her fellow humans down the prison corridor and into one with wooden paneling, as if they’d transitioned into an office complex attached to the lab. A few twists and turns and then they were exiting the building onto a broad terrace, in the bright sunlight. Megan blinked as the light hit her eyes.
They stood for a while before the door opened again and Dr. Lampergg emerged. He led a contingent of lab techs and more security guards pulling a floating antigrav litter. The guards steered their cargo to the edge of the grass and unceremoniously dumped the occupant to the ground. One soldier rolled the man over with his foot, and Megan gasped to see the mysterious prisoner, now much battered and bruised. He lay unconscious, drugged perhaps, or in a coma.
Every instinct urged her to rush to his side and assess his medical condition, but one glance at the guards and she clenched her fists, forcing herself to remain in place. She hoped the Khagrish weren’t planning to execute the man in front of them as an object lesson about obedience.
“We’re setting you free for a while,” Lampergg said, making an expansive gesture toward the horizon. “Fourteen days to be exact. I expect you to explore the area, show us how capable you humans are of surviving in the wilderness, and get acclimated to the planet.” He grinned. “See if there are any holes in our perimeter. I’ve heard it said your species is quite clever.”
“The false hope façade of temporary freedom,” Walt muttered from the left. “Mind games.”
“You will take him with you during this experiment,” the scientist said next, pointing at the injured prisoner, who lay unmoving.
Harker shook his head and objected loudly. “Man’s literally dead weight. We’re not going to carry him. Why should we? He’s nothing to us.”
“I’ll have him executed right now where he lies if you don’t.” In response to a signal from the scientist, a guard stepped to the invalid and rested the lethal tip of his pulse rifle against the man’s skull. Raising his bushy yellow eyebrows and running his gaze over the assembled people, Lampergg said, “What manner of beings are you humans? Are you better than I am perhaps? Show me.”
Outraged, Megan confronted Harker. “We can’t leave him here to be killed in cold blood. We have to try to help him.”
Walt stepped out of line and pointed at four of the sturdier colonists, one man after the other. “We’ll take shifts carrying him until we find material to make a litter out of, branches and vines maybe.”
Since no one was ordering them back into the line, Megan walked to the prisoner and knelt by his side. His pulse was slow but steady, and she blinked in surprise as his spectacular bruises faded in intensity even as she watched. He was a massive man, easily seven feet tall, well-muscled, with a strong face that appealed to her. Remembering the piercing look she’d had from his intense amber brown eyes the first time they encountered each other, she touched his cheek and then self-consciously snatched her hand away, embarrassed to have taken a nonmedical liberty. Besides he’s my only link to finding out what happened to Lily and possibly Jill too. “I want the antigrav litter you brought him outside on,” she said to Lampergg, rising to her feet. “We’ll be tested enough trying to survive in this wilderness without using up a lot of strength carrying him.”
She had the feeling the Khagrish had expected the request from the rapid agreement she received. Rocking on his heels, he fingered his beard and nodded. “How long will the charge last?” he asked the guard.
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