by T. R. Harris
Copernicus looked at his cloth. It smelled clean, but it wasn’t new. And now it would have to serve dual purposes, which made his stomach turn.
After is initial initiation, the other inmates paid him little attention. If any of the others recognized him as a Human, they didn’t let on. Most were taller and stockier than he, with intense eyes marking them as predator species. They were all predators, just as was Copernicus. And it was in the Conditioning Chamber where the inmates retained much of their natural—and dangerous—abilities.
Coop wasn’t worried—not much. He knew there were other species in the galaxy stronger, quicker and tougher than Humans, but none combined these traits into a single creature that could legitimately stand against a Human. Even so, size and a healthy dose of armor-like skin and bone could go a long way in negating a Human’s natural advantage. And from the look of the aliens in the large cavern, some could do just that.
Copernicus walked past the dining area as he began the initial survey of his prison. Several aliens were sitting about, although there was no food or drink on the tables. He would learn the feeding schedule soon enough. He hoped it wouldn’t be a free-for-all. He noticed five black-skinned creatures huddled together. They noticed him and stopped talking as he walked by, watching him with unblinking eyes.
Coop recognized them as Gracilians, and as far as he could tell, their race was represented more than any other in the facility. Either that or they tended to cluster together more. He knew Gracilians quite well, having worked for them for a while several years ago. Although they were muscular and imposing creatures, they were known more for their intelligence than physical abilities, yet still, they were at Panorius Number Eight. He wondered what they’d done to be put here. Then he shrugged, realizing they could have done nothing at all—just like him.
He moved on, walking the perimeter of the chamber, checking for air ducts, doorways, cameras and guard stations. Only a few guards walked nonchalantly throughout the huge room, showing no fear or even concern for what was going on. He spotted two short-term fights take place while the guards stood by, appearing amused and talking among themselves as if betting on the outcome.
At the far end of the cavern, he came upon a double security door. There were windows in the panels and he gazed through. The tunnel beyond was more dimly lit and angled down at a decent slope. Two aliens were visible, each wearing dilapidated clothing and shuffling along with slow, defeated cadence. Their bodies with emaciated, their faces sallow, eyes vacant. These would be some of the long-term tenants, living their ‘more or less normal lives’ as the warden called it. Coop couldn’t see how they would have the strength to work the factories to earn any extra cash.
He snickered when he realized these two depressing creatures could end up as a future meal, part of the Panorius Luxury Resort and Spa recycling program. He bet they would taste just like chicken.
Copernicus moved on, now gazing into various cubicles, looking for one that was unoccupied. There were several, but he continued to make his rounds until he came to one with an inviting stack of three foam pads on the floor, with a fourth coiled up as a pillow. There was no one in the room, so he stepped inside and sat down on the bed. It was remarkably soft and comfortable, prompting him to recline fully, with his head on the foam pillow. He closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh.
“I could get used to this,” he said aloud. It had been a while since he had decent sleeping accommodations.
Something cast a shadow over him, and when he opened his eyes, all he could see was a dark object looming above him, taking up much of the small space in the cubicle with its bulk.
“This mine,” said a baritone voice as if spoken through a mouth full of rocks. As the figure shifted position, more light was allowed in, and Copernicus saw that the mouth was more like the scoop on a heavy equipment front-loader than anything that should be on a living being. Then he got a better look at the monster hovering over him.
It was indeed a monster, easily ten-feet tall and four feet wide, and looking like an oversize version of the Incredible Hulk if that was even possible. Coop had seen a lot of aliens in his day, but this was a first. Everything about the beast was big and thick. Even his fierce yellow eyes were the size of drink coasters.
“This mine,” the creature repeated.
Coop slipped off the pad and stood up, confirming the size of the beast when his head only came to mid-torso on the monster. The alien was bare-chested, suffering from the same limitation in available prisoner tunics as did Coop, just in the opposite direction. The beast’s arms were five-feet long, made of a strange combination of three thick stalks, each four inches in diameter, and wrapped in a tight layer of blackish-brown skin showing the underlying bone structure, and with discolored plates of even thicker skin creating an ugly mottled effect. Each arm was twice as thick as Coop’s thigh.
“Sorry,” Copernicus said as he gingerly squeezed past the huge beast and into the open space between the cubicles and the dining area. The creature slowly turned his enormous body to face the Human.
“This mine,” the creature said for the third time. He may be as big as a mountain, Coop thought, but he’s also dumber than a pile of rocks. The Human watched as the beast clenched his fists, forming them in square hammers each two feet in diameter. They resembled Thor’s hammer, only made of flesh and attached to five-foot-long pendulums.
“I said I was sorry. Your bed looked so inviting. I had to try it out.”
The fiery yellow eyes blazed down at him. Coop wasn’t sure he could talk his way out of this one.
Copernicus then noticed that a small crowd of inmates was gathering, anticipating a show, something to distract them from their mind-numbing boredom. They stood back at a safe distance, each displaying looks of almost sadistic glee. This was a violent bunch, and they reveled in its many forms, whether giving or receiving. They were anxious to see the towering beast wreak havoc on the much smaller, pink-skinned alien.
It was at that point that Coop remembered an old saying, one whose origin he was sure was from an old movie he’d once seen. It went something like: The first day in prison find the biggest opponent … and then kick his ass. It will send a message to the others. Even though the logic was undeniable, the reality of the strategy was another matter. And looking up at the ten-foot-tall wall of muscle, Copernicus was about to disregard the advice and make a strategic, if undignified exit, when he remembered he was a Human, and Humans had a reputation to live up to.
“You know what?” he said to the alien mountain in front of him. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m not sorry; in fact, I rather like your three-pad mattress. I think I’ll keep it. From now on—” Coop pointed past the alien and into the cubicle. “—this mine.”
2
The movement from the alien was like the parting of the Red Sea, as the long arms lifted to his sides before the hammer-like fists came sweeping back in toward the tiny Human, designed to catch him in a bone-crushing vice. The giant fists slammed together, just as Copernicus darted inside the arc of the limbs, able to easily avoid the slow-moving creature. Earlier, he’d watched the alien as he turned around. This creature was from a heavy-gravity world, just as were Humans; however, this beast evolved differently. Rather than conquering its environment to become strong, swift and coordinated, this mottled-skinned species surrendered to the oppressive gravity. They grew strong to counteract its effects; however, in the end, evolution chose sloth over speed, power over agility.
Copernicus moved to the belly of the beast and began pummeling the alien with powerful blows to the side of the torso, where most creatures were vulnerable. To his disappointment, his hits had very little effect on the huge body, and the coarse, blotchy skin was like striking a thin layer of crusty armor. He was still trying to make a dent in the alien when one of the pendulum arms whacked him from the side.
Even as he was flying through the air in the moon’s light gravity, Copernicus realized the gravity here was both a boom
and a bust. It was a bust because it would eventually kill him as his body slowly withered away. It was a boom because it allowed his body to be flung to the side without much effort, diminishing the impact of the blow and saving him from any lasting damage.
He landed and skidded along the floor for several feet, crashing into the dining tables and chairs before coming to a rest. The mountain-size beast followed, as evidenced by the vibrations in the stone floor. Fortunately, Coop had been thrown far enough away to give him time to scramble to his feet before the alien was upon him.
The monster tried the clashing-fists maneuver again, and again the Human dodged them. Then Copernicus took a chair in his hands and scurried behind the lumbering beast, smashing it onto the creature’s back. All it did was shatter the plastic chair, leaving Coop clutching a two-foot long piece of plastic from one of the legs. It tapered to a sharp edge, forming a crude spear.
As the beast turned, twisting in what was slow-motion to the Human, Copernicus shoved the sharp piece of plastic into the leg of the alien, just below the knee and angled up. At that point, another saying came to mind, this one from another old movie he’d seen as a child on Earth: Take out the knees and the fight is over. Or something to that effect. Seeing that advice from one old movie got him into this mess in the first place, maybe another would save him.
The beast bellowed in pain, swiping once again with a pendulum fist, striking the Human on his right side. Copernicus lost his grip on the plastic spear as he was once again soaring through the air. This time, however, he smashed into one of the concrete partitions forming a cubicle. The wall crumbled, burying him in heavy chunks of sharp and dusty debris.
The wounded beast hobbled toward him, the wall having stopped Coop’s flight, leaving him only a few feet from the angry hulk. Coop’s hand fell upon a sharp piece of the wall, a chunk that barely fit his hand, and with a razor-sharp edge to it. As his opponent stepped closer, a giant shoeless foot appeared. There were no shoes large enough to fit the alien at the facility, and that was to be his downfall. Copernicus lifted the piece of broken concrete and brought it down on the alien’s big toe. Big was an understatement; the thing was as big as Coop’s head. The cut was deep and wide, eliciting another painful cry from the alien. Before the lumbering beast could react, the Human struck again, and again, until the appendage was nearly severed, held on to the foot by a few ragged pieces of sinew.
The beast stumbled backward to the floor, blood squirting out of the wound. The alien’s hands uncoiled and reached down, grasping the foot, placing a basketball-size palm over the cut to stop the bleeding. It didn’t help. That’s when another of the inmates got too close. The injured creature reached out and took the other alien in one of his hands, while the other ripped off his tunic. The monster then pressed the cloth into the wound, leaving the much smaller inmate naked and scrambling away, embarrassed.
Copernicus climbed out of the pile of debris and dusted himself off. He looked around the room at the stunned and silent faces of the unbelieving spectators. He gave them a smug smirk. Take that, you bastards, he thought. He’d done it; he’d bested the biggest, baddest creature in the prison. That should gain him some respect—at least for the time being—along with a comfortable bed to rest his weary head.
3
Copernicus spent the next two days getting used to his new accommodations, adding his sleeping pad to the bed to make it even cushier. The prior occupant of the cubicle had commandeered the extra pads from frightful and compliant inmates, and although the creature he now knew as a Vos was in the medical ward, no one dare approach the Human and ask for them back. That was fine. The warden said it was survival of the fittest in the conditioning chamber, and Copernicus was determined to prove he was the fittest of the fit.
He learned the dining schedule, which consisted of four feedings during each daily cycle. Every meal was the same, with only water to wash it down. He also learned that every five days, the inmates were required to be hosed down. He hadn’t been there for five days, but still, it was a routine in which he had to participate. It was done at the grooming area, with half of the inmates at a time gathered naked as ice-cold water was sprayed over them from hoses held by the emotionless guards. It was an incredible site, forty or so naked aliens—most of Prime form but with the wondrous variety the galaxy afforded—shivering and complaining. There were a few females in the prison, although in some cases it was hard to tell. But none seemed to be accompanied by any males of their species so there was no interspecies fraternization. After the first group was hosed down, the second was moved into position.
On the third day of his captivity, Copernicus was once again making his rounds, paying particular attention to the entrance to the underground labyrinth. A guard normally stood nearby, but like the others, he wasn’t particularly attentive, allowing Coop to check the latch. The door was unlocked, which made sense. None of those below wanted to go into the Conditioning Chamber, and those in the Chamber couldn’t care less what when on below. They would be down there soon enough; there was no need to rush things.
He moved past the doorway and began working his way toward the lounge area, where inmates were allowed to watch broadcasts approved by management detailing events taking place within the Expansion. It wasn’t much, but it was something to keep the prisoners from going stir crazy. That’s when he sensed he was being watched.
Copernicus stopped at the side of the lounge and leaned against the rock wall. A few feet to his left stood one of the Gracilians. They spent most of their time in either the dining area or the lounge and always together. This Gracilian, however, was alone. He was staring at Coop with unabashed bravado. He recognized him as the leader, the one the others clustered around and whose every word they clung to.
“Do you want something?” Coop asked the audacious alien.
The creature shrugged with a very Human-like gesture. “I want many things. Do you have a suggestion?”
“I meant why are you following me?”
The Gracilian moved closer. He was about six-and-a-half-feet-tall, with shiny black skin and broad shoulders. His eyes were like black pearls that seldom blinked.
“I am curious about what you are doing.”
“What does it look like I’m doing; I’m looking for a way out.”
The alien’s eyes grew wide. “As in a way to escape. That would seem impossible. Where would you go if you could leave the facility? The vacuum of space awaits you outside.”
“Even so, I have some ideas. Let’s just say I don’t plan to wait around long enough for my body to give out.”
“You are a Human,” the alien stated.
“And you’re a Gracilian.”
The alien recoiled slightly. “I am surprised you would know that. We are not well-known beyond the Kidis Frontier. And now we are one of the hundred refugee species in the aftermath of Kracion’s attacks. Even fewer will know of us now.” The alien bowed slightly. “I am Aric Jroshin.”
“Copernicus Smith. Sorry about your planet. I’ve never been there, but I did work for some Gracilians a while back; maintenance work on a research facility you had out beyond the ecliptic.”
The alien frowned. “Copernicus Smith? Why is that name familiar?”
“I have no idea. The place where I worked doesn’t exist anymore. And I was just one of a thousand others who were there.”
“The dark matter research facility!”
Copernicus shook his head. “And how the hell did you know that?”
Aric grinned. “Before the unfortunate events surrounding the Mad Aris, I served as the lead scientific advisor to the Norina, the ruling body on Gracilia. The facility you speak of was under my ultimate supervision.” He narrowed his eyes, taking a moment to search his memory for more details. Coop knew Gracilians were geniuses, the scientific brains of the Kidis Frontier, a poor man’s version of the Klin.
Then Aric smiled again. “Yes, you and a companion absconded with the Dark Matter Collector. It caus
ed quite a turmoil at the capital. The device was never recovered, and then the research facility was destroyed by the infamous Human Adam Cain if my memory serves me correctly. Do you know Adam Cain?”
“I’ve heard of him.”
“I find it amazing that I would find you here, and in a similar situation as I.”
“Yeah, about that. What are you doing here? This place is supposed to be for the most dangerous and violent races. I know you’re pretty tough, but you prefer to use brain over brawn, unlike some of the other creatures in here.”
“I agree. I witnessed your confrontation with the Vos,” Aric said. “That was quite impressive. You certainly identified yourself as one of the beings not to be challenged. I suppose that was the purpose of the demonstration.”
“Mostly it was just to stay alive.”
“You ask why I am here? I will tell you; it is all a tragic misunderstanding. After leaving the Kidis, the main Gracilian refugee group settled on the planet Aac’or. It would not have been our first choice; however, at the time, we had little choice. Over the years, some of my people began an effort to overthrow the local government and claim the planet as their own. There was enough prior suspicion of such an action among the natives that the coup attempt failed. Being an executive in the exiled Gracilian government, I was included in the roundup of the conspirators, although I had nothing to do with it. I, along with a few of my closest associates, were sponsored to Panorius Number Eight as punishment.”
“Damn, that sucks.”
The alien frowned, lost in the translation.
“That’s bad,” Coop clarified.
“It is. And it is only—”
Aric stopped talking in mid-sentence and stared at Copernicus, making him self-conscious from the intense, unblinking stare.
