Wrong compad. No battery. Rhonda threw it to the dark crimson floor in frustration then pulled out the Captain’s compad. “How did you get here? How did you find me?" She held the device upside down and had to flip it.
Xerna never lost her cool demeanor. “We intercepted your call for help, saying Riggeur was held captive.”
Javel seemed to enjoy the situation a little too much. “Xerna knows this facility from top to bottom." He looked proud of his partner. “Even with the Captain’s code, it took us longer than we thought. Delays…”
“How long has it been?" Rhonda worried about the Captain. She’d lost track of time. Had she left him to die?
“Ask Xerna. She has a computer instead of a brain." He winked. “And maybe instead of a heart as well.”
Wondering at that last comment, Rhonda finally detected the three blue dots representing her and the two other guards on her compad. She sighed with relief. “Sorry, guys. One of the shape-shifters almost fooled me by impersonating the Captain. He smelled wrong, though. I killed him. Had to shoot him four times."
Xerna nodded. “Don’t worry. I understand your distrust." She offered more water. “What happened to you?"
“Karatzin poison. Just a trace, fortunately." As she refused more of the precious liquid, Rhonda realized how disheveled she must look to elicit such pity. And she felt even worse. “I think I’ll survive.”
Javel chuckled. “You were lucky. Since the worst is over, it will pass.”
“I hope so." Rhonda vaguely remembered that Javel had mixed Karatzin blood, and so did Xerna. No wonder they remained so cool. But Javel’s cavalier attitude didn’t fit the gravity of their predicament. Rhonda holstered her phaser and pushed back unruly hair. She’d lost the red scarf in the scuffle.
Xerna recapped her canteen and sat next to her on the bunk. “So, how much do you know about the Captain’s condition?”
The memory of Cole Riggeur unconscious on his bench pierced Rhonda like a spear. “They keep him on the east side. He’s gravely wounded." She hoped her steady professional tone masked how much she cared. “We have to get him out of there fast, or he won’t make it. He’s lost a lot of blood." On her compad, Rhonda showed Xerna the cell where his blue dot pulsed, surrounded by a dozen inmates.
Xerna gave her a sidelong glance. “Are you sure you feel up to a rescue right now?”
Shaking her head slowly, Rhonda said, “I have to be. The Captain doesn’t have much time.”
Xerna pointed to Rhonda’s empty canteen abandoned on the bed. “Take it with you. We’ll refill it when we find clean water.”
*****
Tomar awoke from a foggy nightmare with a terrible feeling of helplessness. All his nerves seemed asleep and he vaguely remembered the tremor shaking the corridor, the pipes plummeting from the ceiling, and the pain, compounded by phaser fire. He still couldn’t move, but his body had regenerated enough for him to regain consciousness. At least he could think.
He thanked the fact that Monacks had no heart or central nervous system. It made them impervious to most killing methods. Each cell of Tomar’s body functioned independently from the others and could regenerate quickly, as long as all the parts remained connected and some cells still lived.
More resilient than most Monacks, Tomar had survived many killing blows. That’s what made him a hero of the Old Ways. He’d defeated and killed hundreds, then quartered and devoured his victims to inherit their fighting abilities and prevent their regeneration. After he escaped Zurin Five, Tomar would reclaim his right to rule his native planet.
As feeling and senses gradually returned to him, Tomar remembered hearing the echoes of a commotion, but it seemed faraway. Could he have dreamt it? Slowly, he liquified his head and reformed it next to the block of concrete that had smashed it. He lay face up on the hard floor of Level Nineteen, according to the crimson stripes running along the walls, ceiling and floor. He sat up and moved his limbs to test his motor functions, the memory of his encounter with the female guard returned. Miss Alendresis. Had a human female thwarted him? No. It couldn’t be.
His Monack pride refused to accept defeat by a human, even less a female. Tomar hated smart women and swore this one would die slowly at his hand. His honor demanded she be sacrificed in the bloodiest fashion to the Gods of the Old Ways. Besides, by devouring her heart, he would inherit her cunning.
Where was she? How long had Tomar remained unconscious? He realized the vixen had retrieved the weapons and the compad he’d stolen from Riggeur to impersonate him. Furious with himself, Tomar decided he’d kill Riggeur first and store some of his blood for his DNA. He’d then lead a search for Miss Rhonda Alendresis and would enjoy making her scream as she gave him the code so he could escape. As long as Tomar lived, no human female would ever claim to have bested a male Monack.
*****
Rhonda stopped a hundred meters from the Captain’s cell and checked her compad. She wished she could talk to Javel and Xerna who took their positions at the other end of the corridor, but communications weren’t working even at such close range. On the compad, the blue dots of Javel and Xerna seemed in place, ready to attack. The blue dot representing the Captain was surrounded by a small group of convicts. Other inmates occupied neighboring cells.
Watching the clock on her pad, Rhonda waited a few seconds then came out of hiding. Firing non-stop with both phasers, she advanced like an automaton. She could hear the phase fire of Javel and Xerna who emerged from the other end of the corridor.
Clearing her path with phaser discharge, Rhonda especially watched for hulking Juzzaars and scaly Karatzins. She repressed her pity for anyone cowering or hiding inside the cells on each side of the corridor. If she spared the cowards, she knew they would attack her from behind as soon as she moved on. The thought that they’d tortured the Captain fueled her rage, and if they’d killed him already, she would come back and exterminate the vermin to the last.
The smell of burnt flesh covered the stench of unwashed bodies. Maybe Rhonda didn’t smell so good herself but couldn’t care less. The convicts still alive screamed over the whizzing of phase fire.
This time, Rhonda wouldn’t fail. Although she shuddered at what she had become, she wouldn’t abandon a remarkable man like the Captain to these filthy derelicts. Cole Riggeur might be a pain in the neck most times, but he had given himself up to let her escape. Few human beings showed that kind of compassion. Certainly no one had ever risked death for Rhonda before. The least she could do was return the favor.
As she remembered that the Captain must have breathed some Karatzin poison as well during her botched rescue attempt, Rhonda wondered how it had affected him in his weakened condition. Stepping over dead bodies, she reached the cell at the same time as Javel and Xerna. The couple stood on each side of the open door while Rhonda went inside.
The Captain didn’t move, probably unconscious. God she hoped he was still alive. He looked deathly pale around the ugly bruises on his jaw and brow. The bodies of the big Juzzaar and the Karatzin she’d killed earlier still lay on the floor beside him.
Rhonda kicked aside the Karatzin’s dead arm and laid a light hand on Cole Riggeur’s shoulder. “Captain?”
He raised his head. He was alive! A sheen of sweat covered his forehead. The deep blue eyes looked faded and shone with fever as they lit up with surprise. A faint smile curled the corners of his mouth. “I thought you’d never come, kiddo." His breathing sounded shallow. “Not bad for a rookie.”
Elated, Rhonda couldn’t help but glow at the compliment. Despite the patronizing term, it sounded rather kind. “Time to get you out of here."
Aware of Xerna and Javel in the corridor firing phasers at oncoming inmates, Rhonda knelt before the Captain and pulled out her knife. She cut the strips of red fabric binding his feet to the foot of the bench, then his hands in the back. She readjusted the top of his open uniform then closed it to cover the dreadful stain of partially dried blood and his torn undershirt. “Can you sta
nd?”
“Possibly." The Captain gripped Rhonda’s arm for support.
Rhonda wedged her shoulder under his and realized he needed more help. “Javel? I need you.”
Javel stepped into the cell and lifted the Captain’s other shoulder with ease.
Outside the door, Xerna glanced at her compad and motioned to them. “More are coming. Hurry! This way." She went ahead.
Ignoring the few convicts running away from the guards, Rhonda and Javel followed, supporting or rather carrying the Captain as fast as they could through empty corridors lined with vacant cells. Xerna did a good job of avoiding wandering inmates. After several turns, now far enough from potential pursuers, they slowed the pace.
“We need to stop so I can look at him." Rhonda didn’t like what she’d seen of the Captain’s wound.
“Not here." Xerna guided them toward a deserted block.
Rhonda feared for the Captain. This flight across long blocks of cells couldn’t possibly be good for him. Finally, Xerna slowed her run.
“What about here?" Rhonda didn’t want to wait any longer.
When Xerna nodded and entered one of the many empty cells, Rhonda followed and, with Javel’s help, laid the Captain on a bunk. He looked in bad shape.
Opening the top of the Captain’s uniform, Rhonda pulled aside the remnants of his torn shirt to take a look at his injury. The sight of his muscled torso reminded her of the Adonis she had seen in his bathroom, eons ago it seemed. She willed away the memory to focus on the ugly purple wound.
The jolts of their desperate run had prompted a flow of fresh blood. “At least, the bleeding might prevent the wound from festering." She tried to sound optimistic for the Captain’s sake. She knew even critical patients could hear and understand what people said around them.
Pulling a sterile pack out of one of her cargo pockets, Rhonda ripped the wrapping and stuffed the medicated dressing as hard as she could against the open wounds to staunch the blood. She unfolded the patch of surgical tape to secure the pack into place. “I hope this stops the external bleeding and prevents infection, but the wound goes deep. I’m afraid there is internal damage.”
The Captain smiled feebly. “You are doing good, kiddo. Keep it up and you might make a great prison guard someday... Except for that hair.”
“Right." Despite the comment, Rhonda rejoiced at his returning verve. Out of her pocket kit she took a roll of gauze and fashioned a sling to support the Captain’s right arm. Then she pulled out a pill of antibiotics and turned to Xerna. “You still have water?”
Xerna stared as she handed the canteen. “You carry that kind of stuff with you at all times?”
“Yep." Rhonda helped the Captain swallow the pill and drink. Then she closed the uniform and adjusted the sling. “It’s regulation for the Garrison medic." For once, she felt grateful she’d followed the rules.
Javel loomed over them, blocking the dim light. “He looks almost decent. Can he travel? We can’t stay here.”
“I know a shortcut,” Xerna stated, matter-of-fact. She sized up Javel coyly. “But you may not have the guts for it.”
Any shortcut sounded good to Rhonda. “Where is it?”
Xerna looked smug. “It’s a maintenance tunnel linked to the mines. One shaft leads all the way to the surface. At least it used to. It’s not charted in the floor plan of the complex.”
“Why not?" It seemed to Rhonda like a serious oversight.
“Duran dug these shafts only a few years ago, part of the mining operations,” Javel chimed in, like a kid showing off. He reached for Xerna’s shoulder. “You used those tunnels before, didn’t you?”
Anger flashed in Xerna’s intense eyes as she pulled away from him. “So, what if I did?" She fixed her gaze upon Rhonda. “The deep mineshaft is sloped at an oblique and hard to climb." She motioned toward the Captain with her chin. “I’m worried it might be too arduous for him.”
Rhonda also had serious reservations about Cole Riggeur’s ability to walk, uphill. He’d closed his eyes and seemed oblivious to the conversation. She also wondered what went on between Javel and Xerna, but she had no time to ponder that mystery.
To her surprise, the Captain sat up on the bed. “It’s our best chance. We’ve got to try it.”
At the Captain’s prompting, Rhonda helped him to turn sideways, elated at his newfound strength and show of authority. She grinned as hope filled her with good spirits.
Cole Riggeur grimaced and let his legs dangle to the floor. “Lead the way, Xerna.”
Chapter Six
Level Nineteen - Crimson Zone
Determined to finish off Riggeur, Tomar finally reached the corridor that served as his headquarters. A dozen of his best fighters lay dead, sprawled on the crimson floor. Tomar turned one over with his foot. No blood.
When he entered the cell where he had tied Riggeur, the bench stood empty. The miserable human had escaped. He would find Captain Riggeur who had dared capture him once, and he would make him pay.
But how could Riggeur have escaped in his condition? The big Juzzaar and the Karatzin lay on the cell floor, dead. The use of phasers indicated Riggeur had been rescued. The smell of charred flesh and the black phaser burns on the faded red overalls told the story.
Cheated of his revenge on Riggeur, Tomar pounded the titanium bars and emitted a strident hunting cry that echoed on the walls and the network of conduits lining the high ceiling of Level Nineteen. In his rage, Tomar kicked and something went flying. Something light and red. Tomar picked up the flimsy thing.
A scarf! It reeked of the Alendresis woman guard. Could she have liberated Riggeur by herself? Probably not. She must have called other guards. Riggeur and the Alendresis woman would die slowly under his bloody claws, and soon. Tomar stuffed the scarf in the breast pocket of his red overalls.
Sniffing the air around him, he could detect the faint traces of Rhonda Alendresis’ scent, as well as Captain Riggeur’s. But he also detected two other human scents that used fragrance, or fancy soap... Or were they Karatzin? Mixed Karatzin guards? One male. Tomar detected the subtle hormonal secretions of the other half-Karatzin guard. The female was in heat.
This would complicate matters. The scaly bastards rivaled the Monacks for the deadliest species in this galaxy. You couldn’t sneak up on the cold-blooded sun-seekers, and they possessed powerful close range defenses.
But the fact that other guards had come to Level Nineteen, pleased Tomar. It would increase his chances to acquire the code. Riggeur hadn’t cracked, but Tomar could convince one of the other guards to talk. Each extra guard provided one more opportunity to obtain the code, along with samples of their DNA.
A timid cough behind him made Tomar face about. Gramps, the grizzled engineer who had unlocked the doors that morning emerged from a cell.
“What happened here?" Tomar asked gruffly. “Where are the others?”
“There are four grays now, Fierce Leader." Gramps sniffled.
“Grays?" Gramps meant guards, of course. Tomar enjoyed the epithet of Fierce Leader, though. It fit him well. “Four guards you said?”
“Two males, two females.”
“Where is the rest of our gang?”
“Most of them went to reconnoiter and find the location of the stairs, since the elevators are obviously out of order and even I can’t open them. Right after they left, the guards attacked with blazing phasers. I hid, of course.”
“Of course." Any coward would. But Tomar had much to ponder. “They must have kept an eye on us and Riggeur with their locating devices. We’ve got to get rid of our implanted locator chips if we want to take them by surprise.”
Gramps smiled fearfully. “How?”
“I have handy sharp claws, don’t I?" Tomar smiled menacingly. “I can perform the extraction myself." He enjoyed scaring human vermin.
“What about infection?" Gramps looked scared. A nervous tic contracted the corner of his mouth. “I heard Monack claws carried a disease deadly to hum
ans."
“The disease won’t kill you right away. We’ll just have to find an infirmary on our way up to sanitize the wound.”
“Right..." Gramps didn’t seem convinced. “I’d rather wait until we find the infirmary before letting you cut the skin of my back.”
“This is not an acceptable option. If the guards can see us on their scanners, we’ll never get close to them. And if they leave this level before we catch up with them, we’ll be trapped here, with no way of escape."
To illustrate his confidence in his method, Tomar softened his neck and turned his head one hundred and eighty degrees, to look down at his back. He reversed the joints of his shoulders and elbows so he could easily reach, then he incised the skin of his back with his claw and cut out a neat square of flesh around the chip implant. Slowly, he extracted the small device then smiled. “Nothing to it.”
As some blue gel oozed from the wound, he mentally changed shape to close the hole and stop the leak. The skin of his back smoothed instantly. The independent cells of his body had started the healing process.
Tomar turned to skinny Gramps who looked even paler than usual. “Show me your back.”
Gramps seemed to waiver and retreated one step. “I’m not sure...”
“You have two choices." Tomar held up two claws. “Either I need you and you are coming with me, de-chipped, or you refuse, then I don’t need you anymore, and I’ll kill you. We have no time for hesitations. Choose, Gramps. Death or freedom.”
“If you put it that way." Gramps tightened his jaw and unzipped the top of his red overalls then presented the pale skin of his bony back to the shape-shifter.
Tomar enjoyed piercing the soft white skin as he dug into the flesh. He ripped out the small chip with intentional roughness.
Gramps uttered a muffled scream but did not shy away from his claw.
Alien Lockdown Page 8
