Reaching the general, they held their breath, waiting for a reprisal, but none came. The general was obviously pleased with the exercise and the publicity footage it provided. Although uncaring about his captives’ state of mind and the shock they had received, he realized the value of his assets. The value of Flower-of-Sands and Alois was obvious; less obvious was the value of Helena. But her fear and tears had added spice and realism to the video of the dog-creatures’ assault; that was a use the general had made of her. Flower-of-Sands gritted her teeth in anger.
Everything had changed; Daff was alive and the relief of that flooded through her, but it was a relief tempered by uncertainty and many questions.
They entered the compound and the general gestured to Helena to make herself scarce. She joined the medics who were taking Alois on a stretcher to the infirmary. They disappeared down a long corridor. Flower-of-Sands turned and faced Diaz, aware of the men surrounding him, all of whom wanted her dead. She could hardly stand after her ordeal with the dog-creatures, but there were no chairs at the entrance to the compound – it was a stark place with few comforts, devoted, like everything else in the compound, to one thing only, the games, currency, and lust for blood that came with them.
‘You did well with the animals, very well indeed,’ the general said. ‘You are a brave woman, and not to be wasted. I’m upgrading you to the premium fights, it’s about time.’
‘You mean I will be forced to kill?’
‘Or be killed. It’s your choice, and I have your boy. My clients want more than pretend lethal. They want actual lethal.’
‘What happens to Daff if I am killed.’
‘Rest assured, he will be taken care of. I have no wish to harm a child, unlike some in my line of business, who even put children into the arena.’
She took this as a disguised threat and felt sick to her feet – she could even feel her skin turning green.
‘I don’t care where you come from young lady.’ The general’s voice was cold. ‘But this is a world at war. Get used to it.’
‘Are there not rules for humane behaviour in war?’ She was barely able to stop herself from vomiting.
The captain laughed loudly. ‘Yes, there are – kill or be killed. Now get some rest. You start tomorrow.’
She had never experienced the need to kill somebody; it was intrinsically outside her sphere of awareness.
Until now.
Chapter 31
Venetia pulled out of yet another shared psychic scanning session. These sessions were an important part of the escape plan, as attacking Keeper directly was not possible. Nevertheless, the sessions spooked her.
‘Okay, I can link to you both, but I don’t like it. I don’t have the control that you two have.’
‘You don’t need it,’ Jalaal said. ‘We will carry you. All you must do is the calculation, assess the atomic structure of the force field holding us here, verify your alternative equation or formula, and feed that back to us. We will do the rest.’
‘When we are linked,’ Astral-La said, ‘we will show you the force field that supports this habitat. Analyse it, activate your modification formula, and feed that to us and we will translate it back to the force field. With any luck, it will create a rift that will allow us to escape. That’s the plan.’
Venetia looked sceptical, but knew this was their only chance. They were not getting out of this prison alive any other way. A long time had elapsed since the last alien “feeding” episode. The next one was due. Keeper had not manifested, but food, water and clothing had been replaced when they were sleeping, so it was still involved. Astral-La believed that the aliens were allowing them to fully recuperate, as the next feeding was to be a big one, a festival for the aliens and probably death or total zombie-hood for them. They could end up empty shells, useless, or recycled in some unimaginable way. Others would then be captured to take their place.
‘They don’t seem to have noticed our psychic scans,’ Venetia said.
‘They have, but don’t consider them important,’ Astral-La said. ‘They feed off our energy and mental vibrations, but do not see us as self-aware, or if they do, they are not interested; we are just a commodity, and that is our one strength – and their one vulnerability.’
‘We must move very soon, if not immediately,’ Jalaal said. ‘Keeper could arrive at any time and render us unconscious and prime us for another feeding.’
Astral-La agreed. ‘Collect the small amount of spare clothing that Keeper allows us and meet in the kitchen in as short a time as possible.’
Recently, they had been successful in scanning conditions outside the habitat. It was not good news. Ice, snow, and blizzards surrounded them; obviously, they were at one of the poles. Once out, they would be in sub-zero temperatures. Astral-La would need to jump them away blind. They were going to need a great deal of luck to arrive somewhere safe, warm, and solid. They were in uncharted territory. Anything could happen.
In the kitchen, wearing as many of the thin garments allowed by Keeper they could find, they joined hands and sank into the soft blackness that was Astral-La’s preparation for psychic scanning. Venetia felt herself pass giant pillars – the minds of Astral-La and Jalaal – and float towards the energetic field that was effectively the walls of their prison.
She sank into the complex web of atomic structures and began working the modification that she had been preparing during sleepless rest periods for what had probably been weeks, even months – here, there was no way of measuring time. Initially, she had been surprised when she first observed that the structure of the prison wall was part virtual; it was actual matter blended with virtual matter. How could she cope with that?
After much disappointment, she had worked out a formula which in theory would circumvent the reliability of the force field, at least for a limited time. The wall that imprisoned them would collapse and Astral-La would jump them out of their prison and away. There would be resistance in the habitat’s force field, for which she was prepared. The system had a definite auto-repair capability. Even probing would be seen by the habitat’s field as a small invasion, not serious enough to alert Keeper, but serious enough for an adjustment that would need negotiating.
She allowed her mind to go blank and floated into the wall, immersing herself in its complexity. Soon she saw a way through; it was simple. Adjusting her formula mentally, she slid away from the wall and approached Astral-La and Jalaal and fed them her final formula.
There was a moment when time seemed suspended.
Then it happened. They were outside.
The cold hit them so hard they shrieked. Astral-La had not been able to jump them further than the prison’s immediate area. She pulled Venetia and Jalaal towards her and attempted another jump, but nothing happened. Their first thought was to rush back into the prison, but the wall had repaired itself. There was no turning back.
‘Jump us, anywhere!’ Venetia shouted. ‘Before we die of cold.’
‘I’m trying. Somehow, I can’t. It must have been the strain of jumping out of the prison, or the cold.’
By now, they were shivering violently and would soon succumb to hypothermia and collapse. They moved away from the habitat that was now a wall of ice. At their feet was a precipice; dark grey chasms yawned around them. The freezing wind was a steel knife.
A craft came out of nowhere and dropped toward the habitat. Keeper. A short landing strip grew out of the habitat and the craft touched down. Keeper emerged and ran to the edge of the landing strip, its four eyes oscillating and its multiple legs forming grotesque patterns in the dimming light. It held a contraption in one of its limbs that must have been a pain inducing control device.
Suddenly they were on the ledge with Keeper. Astral-La had managed a jump. Keeper, who was not as large as it had appeared when manifesting in the habitat, raised the control device. But Astral-La snatched it away, grabbed Keeper by what might have been its neck, lifted it high, and ran with the others towards the ship.
There was a small opening, large enough for Keeper, but a tight squeeze for the escapees, especially Jalaal.
It was almost tropical inside the ship. Keeper was squealing, clicking its legs, and expressing extreme agitation. Astral held the control weapon against its equivalent of a head and gestured for it to take off. It did not seem to understand.
‘Link to its mind,’ Jalaal shouted as he tried to warm Venetia, who had passed out with cold and terror.
Astral-La passed the weapon to Jalaal. ‘Hold that to its head. Leave Venetia, she will recover. I don’t know how to work this thing, but Keeper seems scared of it.’
Jalaal grabbed the weapon; Astral-La closed her eyes and linked to Keeper’s mind. They could feel the wind beating against the craft.
Eventually, Keeper seemed to understand Astral-La’s telepathic instructions and crawled towards the cockpit area of the tiny craft. Soon they were in the air.
They gasped. The air inside the craft was toxic and the pressure dropping. They had no idea what Keeper breathed, if it breathed at all, but the air flowing through the craft was poison. Astra-La grabbed back the gun-device from Jalaal and held it at Keeper’s head. Gradually, the air pressure in the craft adjusted and the air became breathable.
‘Keeper knows our breathing requirements,’ Astral-La said. ‘It must have transported us in this vehicle when it brought us to this planet. Obviously, it has human life-support capability. Keeper is wearing breathing apparatus. What I thought was its’ head must be a type of helmet.’
When Venetia eventually came to, she saw blue sky through the transparent roof of Keeper’s craft. ‘We made it,’ she said, taking Jalaal’s hand and breathing deeply. ‘We made it.’
Astral-La was still holding the gun device at Keeper whose four eyes were rotating wildly. What this signified was anybody’s guess.
‘This is only the first stage.’ Astral-La said quietly, her face set in grim determination. ‘We have a long way to go, but at least we are out of that prison.’
Jalaal placed his arms around Venetia, who started to sob quietly, but who could not suppress her sense of dry humour.
‘All I wanted was to be on the ground-breaking mission to the Oort cloud. Instead, I ended up on Charon, and now I am here, abducted by aliens, in another galaxy, and fighting to survive in a situation that I do not understand. But I have you guys. That is a bonus.’ She rested her head against Jalaal. ‘Imagine if I or each of us had been alone.’
Jalaal smiled warmly and unhooked his instrument from his shoulders. Venetia was astonished. ‘You actually brought it.’
‘Of course, you never know when it will be useful, if only to serenade you as we plunge to our deaths.’
‘Oh, nice one, Jalaal. Thanks for cheering us up.’
‘I’m managing to establish some degree of rapport with Keeper here,’ Astral-la murmured. ‘He – I will call it ‘he’ – is not indigenous to this planet.’ Astral-La was silent for a long time as she communed with Keeper. Eventually, she spoke. ‘Keeper is not doing this out of preference. The Pulse is threatening his family and beyond. He claims our escape will result in the murder of his entire generation.’
‘So, Keeper is a victim, like us,’ Venetia whispered.
‘Yes,’ Astral said. ‘He is terrified, but not for himself, but for his loved ones.’
‘So, by escaping we have endangered Keeper’s family – of which there could be hundreds,’ Jalaal said.
‘Yes, but we can’t blame ourselves. We have no choice,’ Venetia said.
‘True, but we are all victims,’ Astral-la said. ’The ones to blame are the Pulse and the Unseen.’
The ship was now in the stratosphere on the edge of space probably at mark 6. They must decide. They could go into space and link with Keeper’s ship. Or they could return planet side.
‘Keeper’s mother ship is in orbit,’ Astral-La informed them. ‘It has stealth capability that prevents the planet’s military from detecting it. He operates alone because what he is doing is illegal by galactic law enforced by the Inquisition. His planet is the fourth in this system and is different from this one, smaller with an atmosphere like your Saturn’s Triton. We don’t want to go there. The only way forward is to land.’
Astral-La connected with Keeper and the craft began to move back into the atmosphere. Several screens flickered with myriad, pale blue, and yellow objects. Keeper was trying to give them a sense of the planet. Astral-la translated:
‘Like earth and Liberty, except that it has a red-dwarf sun, this planet, known to all interested parties as Planet X, has a moon similar in size to the Earth’s moon. About 70% of the surface is covered in water. There are five major landmasses, many islands, rivers, lakes, and forests, all of which are at war. The poles are covered in ice. Planet X is volcanically active and has a magnetic field like our home planets. You could say that it is a twin of planet Earth – uncannily so, almost as if it is a copy.’
The ship was now veering towards one of the landmasses. The topography was typical of this type of planet: hills, mountains, lakes, and deserts. As they descended, they could see more, partly through Keeper’s screens and partly through the aircraft’s windows. Continuous shelling had laid vast areas to waste and there were indications of thousand-mile-long refugee camps, mass starvation, genocide, and sustained war crime.
Keeper was becoming agitated, his eyes oscillating and his limbs jerking rapidly.
‘He says that the stealth-mode of his ship is limited,’ Astral-la said. ‘Usually he comes in over the North Pole and avoids detection by navigating the planet’s magnetic currents. He says there is a real possibility of someone on the planet detecting us. I need to be quiet and see if I can sense a suitable landing. We must land, and soon.’
Jalaal took the gun device from Astral-la and held it at Keeper’s head. Astral-la withdrew into herself, attempting to sense a place for them to land. It was a massive thing to attempt, but there was no alternative.
Venetia saw it first. Keeper, who was a skilled pilot, had just swung the ship into a descending long curve, when through a side window, now facing the ground, Venetia saw the rocket speeding towards them. She screamed. Simultaneously the screens above Keeper erupted into a cacophony of dissonant jargon.
Astral-La threw herself at Jalaal and Venetia as the ship soared away to avoid impact. Too late. The missile hit, exploding the aircraft into a fireball; within seconds, there was nothing left.
Chapter 32
She walked towards the centre of the arena, her feet disturbing hot sand. Spectators scattered across the amphitheatre – quiet, sullen, impatient for action. It was no longer just about winning. Now, winning was killing.
Followers of the general had attempted to dress her in her usual black leather, for which the general had a thing. This time she declined, insisting that she could move more freely when scantily clad. The followers called the general who did not like his subordinates dragging him away from drinking associates. He eyed her artfully before deciding to let her have her way, indicating that it was her funeral, but his eyes shone with depraved anticipation. She realized that he had something planned and shuddered inwardly.
The amphitheatre was secure, sturdy, with a maze of underground passages and chambers, but certainly not ornate. Unlike the Roman gladiatorial amphitheatres that she had seen simulated in movies during her time on Earth, this was business like, and built not so much for pleasure, although that was an issue for many, but for gambling and the accumulation of wealth by the general and his so-called friends.
She waited, trying to regulate her breathing, but afraid and in shock from being in a situation that was at odds with every part of her upbringing. How could she kill? She was unprepared. She had no idea what would happen next or how she would deal with killing if it came to that.
Which it would. The general had said. ‘It’s up to you Sand Queen. Kill or be killed.’
She did not have to wait long. The main gates opened and what came out ca
used her jaw to drop and her eyes widen in astonishment.
‘That is not fair,’ she cried aloud.
It had four legs, two smaller claw-like limbs, a long neck, jaws that glistened, and teeth tapering in petrifying slenderness. Reptile or mammal, or something else entirely, it emitted a fearsome screech and induced a wave of recreational terror from the until now subdued spectators.
On the creature sat a figure in golden armour with a helmet adorned with white and silver feathers. Although the helmet’s visor hid the warrior face, there was no doubt that the personage on the grotesque stead was a woman. She brandished a spear, a crossbow, and an assortment of knives and other weapons that Flower-of-Sands could not identify, but which radiated murderous and gruesome intent.
Flower-of-Sands was doomed. The general had fooled her. He had prepared her for slaughter at the hands of another woman who looked like she did not have the concept of mercy. She wished she had agreed to the leather amour, cumbersome although it was. Facing her was a heavily armed Fury, and she was unarmed and two thirds naked. She was about to die, probably slowly as her opponent played with her, gradually weakening her, wounding her here and there, before the final kill. She could feel the audience warming to the situation.
The creature charged. The spear came right at her and grazed her arm as she tried to leap from its path, falling to the ground as the creature passed close by, its reeking breath making her retch. She did not fall well and her right hip throbbed as she got to her feet.
The spectators were livening up. The warrior facing her had a following and the audience began chanting her name, which in translation echoed an ancient female Earth warrior. ‘Bellona! Kill! Kill!’
The creature was coming towards her again, bearing down, snorting hideously. Bellona disappeared from its back and slid under its belly from where she was prepared to fire her crossbow.
Flower-of-Sands_The Extraordinary Adventures of a Female Astronaut Page 28
