by J. J. Green
A sharp jab in her ribs drew her attention from her friend and towards the pen-like alien on her other side. “Where are the others who came with you? Where are the soldiers? How many are there?”
“You know, you remind me of a ballpoint pen I used to have. It leaked ink all over my best blouse.”
“Tell us where the other Transgalactic Council operatives are. How many Unity soldiers accompanied you?”
Carrie turned to her friend. “Hey, Dave, do you remember when you first came over to my flat and I tried to seduce you?”
“The old yawn, stretch and arm over the shoulder routine?” He snorted. “I’m not likely to forget. What were you thinking?”
“I’ve no idea. Every time I remember I die a little inside. What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done?”
“Answer my questions,” interrupted the placktoid.
Against her will, Carrie found herself about to tell her interrogator that she and Dave were the only Council operatives on the planet, when Dave broke into her train of thought.
“When I was thirteen I made a fake social media account and pretended to be a conversation bot. I started up a chat with my crush and predicted his future, which of course involved getting together with me.”
Carrie laughed. “Did he ever find out?”
“I think he guessed because he stopped choosing me when we picked teams to play football during lunchbreak.”
Chuckling, Carrie said, “I think I can beat that. You know when I interviewed for the call centre supervisor job? I shook Ms. Bass’ hand and said, 'Hi, how are you?’”
“What’s funny about that?”
“I said it at the end of the interview as she was showing me out.”
Dave guffawed. “After she’d given you the job?”
“Yes,” Carrie giggled, “I was so gobsmacked I lost the plot.” Tears of mirth were beginning to leak from her eyes.
“God, they’re desperate for workers at that place.”
Their placktoid interrogator poked Dave with a lever. “Ow,” he exclaimed.
“Where are the other Transgalactic Council operatives? Tell me their whereabouts immediately. With what weaponry are they armed?”
“Hey, Carrie, did I ever tell you I was bilingual when I was at primary school?”
She stopped laughing for a moment. “No. What language did you speak? Did you forget it?”
“Actually I just made up a load of nonsense words and definitions and pretended it was an obscure language no one else spoke. I used to go around talking to myself to impress everyone.”
Carrie roared with laughter.
“Stop making that noise,” shouted the placktoid. “Tell us everything you know about the Transgalactic Council presence on our planet. This is your final opportunity. If you do not tell us all you know you will be destroyed.”
“I had my first kiss at primary school,” said Carrie.
“That’s sweet.”
“Yeah, this boy I liked came over and leaned in close, so I went for it.”
“Was it good?”
“Not for him. He was only reaching for a pencil from the shelf next to me.”
This set off a fit of giggles in Dave so strong that he struggled to breath. Carrie’s stomach muscles ached from laughing. The interrogators were silent, no doubt communicating with each other and maybe the High Commander in their own language. Perhaps they were telling their leader they had failed. She wondered what it would do with them now. The effects of the truth serum were wearing off, and she was feeling painfully sober. Would the High Commander execute them, or would it try again to get them to reveal information about their mission?
She reflected that her life had been fun while it lasted. She just hadn’t expected it to end quite so soon. The worst of it was they had failed to find even find the Liberator, let alone destroy it. If the placktoids succeeded in their plan, Gavin, the Council and everyone they knew would have to live under placktoid rule, if they existed at all.
At least she would be with her best friend at the end. Dave seemed to be thinking something similar. He smiled sadly at her as they lay fixed by their wrists and ankles to the floor, awaiting their fate.
“You refuse to answer our questions,” said the pen-like placktoid, “instead relating ridiculous stories. As you have not responded to the truth serum, we will extract information from you by inflicting pain. To avoid agony, you must respond. If you do not, the pain will continue until you die.”
“It’s always good to have something to look forward to,” said Carrie.
The placktoids left without further explanation. Were they going to get their torture instruments? Would she and Dave be returned to the High Commander so it could use its red beam to its best effect? She shuddered. Dave was looking pale and troubled. It was only a matter of time now. There was no way they could release themselves from their restraints.
From the corner of her eye, Carrie saw a flash of silver pass by in the tunnel outside their chamber. She turned her head to look through the entrance. Another robot passed and another. They were heading towards the High Commander’s chamber. She’d thought it odd there hadn’t seemed to be any of the silver machines in the area the placktoids had taken over, except for the ones the High Commander made itself. She wondered why they’d shown up now.
A blast outside rocked the chamber and left Carrie’s ears ringing. Pieces of silver robot flew across the corridor and rained down, some landing within their chamber entrance.
“The placktoids are attacking the robots,” exclaimed Dave.
Another blast.
“Damn those placktoids,” shouted Carrie. “Why are they doing that? Those little things aren’t doing any harm.”
“Maybe they’re trying to clear out the placktoids like they tried to get rid of us?”
“Yes, but—” There was a hum of laser pulse followed by a loud bang and the pinging of shrapnel. “—but the placktoids could just shake them off. They’re too big and strong for the robots to move.”
“Not if there are enough of them. They struggled to carry me, but they managed it.”
Outside, more and more of the silver machines zoomed past to join the fray, until the tunnel was thick with them. The fight continued. Then two robots diverted into Carrie and Dave’s chamber.
“Uh-oh,” said Dave. “It looks like the clean-up team has found us.”
“Don’t worry. I don’t think they can move us, and if they can, that would be good. It would mean we could get away from the placktoids.”
“Yeah, even I’d prefer being thrown down the mountain again to a painful death, but what if they can’t detach us whole? Will they take us in pieces?”
Chapter Twelve – The Writing’s on the Wall
Carrie gulped. Trust Dave to think of the worst case scenario.
Pincers descended from the belly of each machine and plucked at their Liasion Officer jumpsuits, lifting a leg or an arm a few centimetres, but of course their restraints held them down. More robots entered the chamber. Did they have some kind of electronic communication system like the placktoids? The newcomers also attempted to lift the humans from the floor, without effect.
“Ow,” said Carrie as the robots’ pincers lost their grip and she was dropped for the fourth or fifth time. “They’ve identified us as foreign bodies like the placktoids, but they can’t remove us. I wonder what they’re going to do?” She peered into the underbelly of a robot above her, hoping she wouldn’t see any sharp instruments.
The interior of the robot resembled a Swiss Army knife, though it was much more complex. The machines were clearly fixit guys of the highest order. Inside the one hovering above Carrie, seemingly deciding what to do with this thing that didn’t belong, was a multitude of tools, stored away compactly and intricately in a central mechanism. Realising Dave would be fascinated by the instruments, she glanced over at him. Sure enough, he was gazing into the robot currently trying to lift him up.
All at onc
e, the machines withdrew their pincers and closed their undercarriages, apparently giving up their efforts to remove Carrie and Dave. What would they do instead? Outside, the sounds of fighting had stopped. It wasn’t clear which side had won, but it was too much to hope that the silver machines had destroyed the placktoids, especially as they didn’t seem to possess any weapons. All the robots in their chamber withdrew, but one.
The remaining machine glided to Carrie’s side and lowered itself nearly to the floor. From its underbelly appeared a thick tube, which it ran along the floor. It circled the two humans, leaving a trail of a liquid on the floor. Carrie followed it with her gaze.
“What do you think it’s doing?” asked Dave.
“No idea.”
The robot returned to its starting point and began another circumnavigation of Carrie and Dave. The liquid trail had dried. As it exuded another batch, it sat on top of the first. Carrie squinted to bring her eyes into near focus on the spot the robot had hovered over. What she saw made her blood freeze. The robot had created a tiny wall, the same colour as the ground. It returned to its beginning point again and began a third pass. The wall rose higher.
“Can you see anything?” asked Dave, craning his neck to see what the robot was doing.
“Errm.”
“What’s it doing? It just seems to be going around and around us.”
“It’s...err...it seems to be building some kind of barrier between where we’re lying and the rest of the floor.”
“Huh? Why’s it doing that? What’s the point?”
Carrie didn’t answer. She was stalling, hoping the robot wasn’t doing what she thought it was doing. And if it was doing what she thought it was doing, she didn’t know quite how to break the news to Dave.
“Carrie, what’s it doing? You know, don’t you? You’ve guessed.”
She could only turn and look at her friend. In a few moments, he put two and two together. “Oh my god, it’s walling us in.”
Carrie's mind raced. Unable to remove the two humans from the chamber, the silver robots’ next course of action was to seal them away. How long did they have before it completed the job? And when it had finished, how long would their remaining air last?
Hopelessly, Carrie and Dave struggled against their restraints as the wall created by the robot grew higher. When the wall was above the level of their bodies, the robot began to curve it inward, forming a ceiling to their tomb. Outside their chamber all was silent, as if the placktoids had withdrawn, possibly knowing what the robots would do, and leaving the two humans to their fate.
Finally, sweating with exertion, her wrists and ankles aching and sore, Carrie stopped struggling. There was nothing to be done. She almost began to wish the placktoids would return to get them. Dave had also stopped moving and lay forlornly looking up at the ceiling. Noticing she had also given up trying to free herself, he said, “I’ve been trying to figure something out. What do you think the High Commander was doing making more robots? Do you think it made all the robots here?”
“I don’t think so. There are so many of them, and some of the broken ones on the mountainside looked as though they’d been there quite a while, from before the time the placktoids came here. And it couldn't make them properly, do you remember? The first one it made it destroyed because there was something wrong with it. They haven’t perfected the process. No, I think they’re trying to copy the robots that are already here.”
The wall around them closed in a little further.
“But why, and where are the beings that made the robots? Where are the Creators? And where are the placktoids from the past? The only ones we’ve seen are from our time.”
“I don’t know. It’s really weird. Hardly anything we’ve seen fits in with the placktoid mythology. Only the mountains. No Liberator, no placktoid ancestors. No one’s running the place from what I can tell. The Creators have been defeated already, or left. I can’t figure it out.”
Still the robot went on building a tomb for Carrie and Dave.
Chapter Thirteen - Entombed
The light was dim within the cell the robot had created. Only a small hole was left at the top, which the machine was busily making smaller. When it was closed, they would be in complete darkness. It seemed ridiculous to Carrie that the placktoids had failed to kill them, but this innocent, simple machine was unwittingly doing their job for them.
The only saving grace of their situation was the fact that their death would be a less painful one than the placktoids intended. Now they would only die of lack of oxygen. Or maybe thirst. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was so dry and her tongue so thick she couldn’t manage it.
“Oh well, looks like this is finally it, then,” said Dave hoarsely. “I have to say, of all the ways I imagined I might die coming with you on this trip, I never thought of this one.”
“I’m sorry, Dave. You never wanted to be a Liaison Officer. You never wanted to come with me on assignments. It was always me, either accidentally involving you or dragging you along, persuading you to come with me. I almost wish we’d never met.”
“Don’t say that, Carrie. I’m a grown man. I could always have said no if I really didn’t want to come. But the truth is, though I complain and moan all the time, when it’s all over and I’m home, safe in my bed, I’m always glad you twisted my arm and made me go with you. It’s been terrifying at times, but it’s like banging your head on a wall: you feel great when it stops.”
Carrie gave a short laugh. “That’s a good way to describe it.” Above their heads, the robot filled in the last remaining gap and darkness fell. Carrie’s heart fell with it, but both she and Dave chose not to remark on the completion of their tomb. “I’ll be sad not to see Gavin again, and even Errruorerrrrrh now that she’s mellowed towards me a bit; and the kids—Gavin didn’t tell us how they were doing, did he? I wonder if they’re all in school now? I wonder what school is like for delinquent insectoid aliens?”
“Yeah, I’d give a lot to be able to listen to him tell us all about his and Errruorerrrrrhch’s one hundred plus offspring right now. Just so long as I didn’t have to meet any of them.”
Carrie chuckled again. “You never did like them very much, did you?”
“Neither did you.”
“No, but...” The two humans continued to chat as if they were at home in Carrie's flat with her dog, Rogue, lying by the gas fire, the TV in the background, and Toodles hiding somewhere, waiting to attack whoever strayed near. Dehydration made their voices quiet, but they didn’t need to speak loudly to hear each other, lying close in the darkness as they were. Carrie didn’t know about Dave, but it comforted her to pretend everything was normal. There was no point in discussing their situation or impending death. Unless the placktoids returned—and she was in no hurry to see any of them again—their fate was sealed.
She yawned. The oxygen seemed to be getting low. It would be a mercy. Her thirst was bothering her in a way that threatened to get much worse. Dying through lack of oxygen would only mean getting drowsy until eventually they would become unconscious before dying.
“Am I boring you?” asked Dave, stopping in the middle of a story from his schooldays.
“Yeah, you are. And it’s getting late. Maybe you should go.”
“How rude. I was here first. Maybe you should go.”
Carrie giggled. The lack of oxygen was making her woozy. Sleep was pressing down on her. She sighed. “I’m tired, Dave. I think I’m going to have a nap.”
“Me too.” A pause. “I suppose we’ll go to sleep now.”
“Yeah.” Carrie was surprised to find she wasn’t too dehydrated for tears to fill her eyes.
“Carrie?”
“What?”
“It’s been nice knowing you.”
“And you, Dave. And you.”
***
Something was falling on Carrie's face. As she opened her eyes she winced as they filled with fragments. She squinted and shook her head, trying to clear her
vision. Directly above her head there was a hole. A tap sounded from the hole, and another shower of fragments hit her.
She turned to see Dave. His eyes were blinking open, and he moved. He was alive! And he was waking up. Movement above Carrie returned her focus to the hole in the wall above. She glimpsed one of the silver machines. After a robot had walled them in another—or maybe it was the same one?—had returned to excavate them from their tomb. But why?
She tried to figure it out while Dave came to his senses and their rescuer continued to open the hole. As far as Carrie could tell, it was trying to help them. The robot gradually cut away all of the wall, and when it was removed down sufficiently for the robot to enter, her guess was confirmed. The prong the robot had been using to destroy the wall returned to its store, and another instrument appeared: a small laser.
Carrie flinched as the beam shone out above her wrist restraint. If the robot wasn’t careful, it would cut off her hand. But as the laser did its work she felt nothing but a slight warmth. Her hand was free. She lifted it, wincing as the blood rushed in and filled her arm with pins and needles. After releasing Carrie’s other hand, the robot cut Dave’s restraints. He gave a small groan as he sat up, while the robot moved to their ankles.
“What’s going on?” asked Dave. “Why’s this one decided to come back and help us?”
Carrie shook her head and shrugged. “It looks the same as all the others.” She tried to smack her dry, parched lips, unsuccessfully. “If only it carried water, too. That would be perfect.”
“Yeah, without our equipment we’re sunk anyway. It’s freed us so we can die of thirst instead.”
“We’re still alive, aren’t we? Surely there has to be something we can drink on this planet.”
“Not that I’ve seen.”
But Carrie recalled a native liquid. It wasn’t water, and it was a long shot, but...
