by GARY DARBY
At its core appeared a sliver of both darkness and light that beckoned as if it were an open doorway into another place, another universe.
For an instant, Dason tried to fight the constant intense pressure as if his mind were being compressed into nothingness, but he didn’t have the mental power to thwart the Mongan onslaught.
After an interminable time, a point of blackness appeared. This time Dason didn’t fight it but welcomed its release from the terrifying experience.
The Mongans’ loud, incessant chittering roused Dason from his unconscious state. His head lolled forward, causing him to jerk awake. He let out a little moan and turned his head toward Alena, who stared at him with a concerned expression.
“You okay?” she asked in a whisper.
Dason swallowed and nodded. “Yeah,” he answered weakly, “I’m all right.”
“What happened? You were out for a long time,” Alena whispered.
Dason licked at his lips and took a deep breath. “It was like before. A flood of images, but different from what I saw the first time. They come so fast and so hard that they just overload everything.”
He managed a weak smile at her. “As Sami would say, the synapses stop synapting, and I pass out.”
“Well,” Alena commented, “whatever happened, it sure set them off. They’ve been buzzing back and forth over there for quite some time.”
The Mongans must have noticed that Dason was awake because they turned as one and strode to where he sat. One pulled from its robe a tiny, black, triangular looking object with a sharp point embedded in the middle.
The Mongan held out the device and without warning, slammed it against the side of Dason’s head.
Dason couldn’t help himself, and he cried out in pain. An electric jolt seemed to course through his brain, and his whole body became rigid in response.
As if Alena were far, far away, he heard her yell, “Dason!” but he couldn’t respond.
Slumped forward in the chair, Dason’s head lolled to one side. After a few moments, he was able to rouse himself.
Warm blood trickled down one cheek from where the Mongan had jammed the device into his scalp. The sticky blood oozed down to his chin line where it formed several drops that dripped onto his uniform.
The three Mongans came to stand in front of him, their dark eyes expressionless but centered on Dason. A Mongan spoke and Dason heard, “You may speak to The People now, kurang dai.”
Dason’s mouth dropped open, and he sputtered, “I—I, can understand you.” From overhead, he heard his words come out in the Mongan language.
“Kurang dai are there more of you?” the Mongan said.
Unlike the Sha’anay sensator that relayed both the words and the emotions inherent in the speech, the Mongan device only conveyed the words, which came out in a flat, dry tone.
“What?” Dason said. “Are there more of me? Of course, there are more, you’re holding almost forty of us on this ship alone.”
The Mongan waved a hand as if dismissing Dason’s answer and took a step forward. “Those others are meaningless, they have no life. Are there more of you that are Sharers of Memories?”
“They’re not meaningless,” Dason snapped. “They’re living beings, human beings. You attacked us, killed many without provocation, without cause.
“We did nothing to you, in fact, my teammates and I saved three of you from dying, yet you repaid us with wanton destruction.”
“No kurang dai, you did not save any of The People, we saved you. Now tell us, are there more Sharers of Memories among the kurang dai?”
“I won’t answer your question until you answer mine,” Dason responded firmly. “Why are you blowing up stars, killing billions of innocent people, destroying life?”
The Mongan stared at Dason, his limpid eyes impassive and unreadable. He then stated, “We are not destroying life—we are creators of life.”
Chapter Seven
Star date: 2443.095
Aboard the Mongan Ship
Working his mouth up and down, unable to speak, Dason stared in disbelief. “Creating life?!” he exploded. “Creating life? You’re destroying whole civilizations, entire species, and billions of sentient beings who’ve done nothing to you and you claim that you’re creating life?!”
“Kurang dai, you do not know of which you speak,” the Mongan replied in an emotionless voice. “We have not destroyed anything of worth. We have not destroyed anything with life.”
Incredulous, Dason could only stare until he sputtered, “Are you telling me that the twenty billion Sha’anay that you killed didn’t have worth, didn’t have value, didn’t have life?”
Returning Dason’s stare with their own, the Mongan gave a humanlike shrug of dismissal. “Mere animals, nothing more,” he said and then raised a hand.
“Enough of this. The People do not have to explain themselves. Are there more Sharers of Memories among the kurang dai?” he demanded.
“I don’t understand what you mean by ‘Sharer of Memories’,” Dason answered. “Are you talking about when I see the images from you in my mind?”
With a sudden flash of insight, Dason stopped speaking and his mouth sagged open. “Sharer of Memories . . . Wait, can you see my memories?” he breathed out.
“Of course,” the Mongan said. “Why else would we be interested in you and others such as you? We have never met another outside of The People who can share. You are unique and perhaps most useful to us.”
Dason’s mind reeled from the Mongan’s revelation. It had never occurred to him that the images might flow both ways. “What do you mean that I would be useful to you?” he croaked.
“In finding others like you,” the Mongan replied. “And in seeking that which we need to finish our task.”
“What is it that you need? What is your task?” Dason demanded.
For just an instant, Dason thought he saw something approaching amazement and wonder in the Mongan’s eyes. In an attitude approaching incredulity the Mongan said, “To save The People, what else?”
The Mongan again waved a dismissive hand. “We grow weary of questions from a kurang dai. Are there more of you that can share?”
When Dason didn’t answer, the Mongan reached out with his tube and pushed it against Dason’s midsection.
In an instant, Dason felt as if a dozen electric eels had pressed up against his skin, sending searing volts of current deep into his insides.
His abdominal muscles constricted so tight that it seemed as if they would pull his spine clear through his stomach.
He couldn’t help himself and cried out in agony, his hands clenched in white-knuckled fists.
The Mongan pulled the tube back. Dason labored to breathe, and his whole body shook from the excruciating pain.
“Are there more Sharers of Memories among you?” the Mongan asked again in a dispassionate voice.
“I—don’t—know,” Dason gurgled between breaths.
Again, the Mongan plunged the tube into Dason’s stomach. Waves of unbearable pain coursed through his body. He arched his back in agony. Every bone in his body felt as if it would snap in two.
The Mongan pulled the tube back and stood peering at Dason with blank, cold eyes. Dason hung forward, his arms and legs limp and quivering from the torture.
He took several gasping breaths, glared at the alien and then defiantly said, “Even if I knew I wouldn’t tell you.”
The Mongan turned and nodded to one of the others who then turned and went out the door. The remaining two stared at Dason and Alena. Dason had the feeling that they weren’t pleased with his insolence and refusal to answer their question.
A few minutes later the door slid open. Alena sucked in a sharp breath. Dason’s breathing quickened and his heart thudded in his chest.
Two Mongan devil dogs entered, their sharp claws making a loud tapping on the metal floor as they paced across the room. Their heads hung low; their jaws were open, and yellowish saliva drooled from their
fang-lined mouths.
The third Mongan followed the dogs, carrying a tabletlike object on which his fingers played across the surface. The devil dogs slunk toward Alena, low, guttural snarls marking their every step toward her.
They had almost reached her legs when both dogs stopped, their red eyes never leaving the shackled woman.
“This will be the last time we ask,” the Mongan closest to Dason said. “Are there more of you among the kurang dai?”
“I—I don’t know,” Dason replied. “I honestly don’t.”
The Mongan turned and nodded to his companion. The dog’s growls and snarls rose in pitch, their jaws ground together, and dull white fangs snapped at Alena’s legs. The canines crouched low as if to leap.
“Wait!” Dason yelled. “I’ll tell you, but call off the dogs!”
The Mongan with the controller device touched several spots and the dogs lay on the metal flooring, though low snarls still slipped through their teeth.
Panting like the canines below him, Dason said, “I’ll tell you, but you must first set all the others that you hold captive free.
“Put them on their ship, and once I know they’re safe and out of your reach, I’ll tell you where there are more, lots more Sharers of Memories.”
The Mongans stared at Dason. “You lie,” one said.
“Do I?” Dason replied. “With one of your devil dogs about to tear my teammate to pieces? Do you think I would take that chance?”
The three again stared at Dason for several seconds as if considering the truthfulness of his answer. Then one Mongan turned, went to a side bench, and touched what appeared to be a control panel on one of the appliances.
At once, Dason felt a change, as if the Mongans had turned off the translator device. The three retired to one corner of the room and started conversing among themselves.
Alena glanced over at Dason, still keeping a wary eye on the dogs at her feet. “Dason,” she whispered intensely, “what’s going on, are you having a conversation with them? Is that thing in your head a translator?”
Dason’s nod was virtually imperceptible. “Yes.”
As fast as he could, he went over his conversation with the Mongans. “Somehow, they’ve acquired all of my memories, which means they know the exact location of Earth, every detail that I know about the Imperium, and all of the star charts that I’ve ever studied."
With a gasp, Alena whispered back, “That’s just about every civilized world, colony, and star system in the Imperium. We’ve got to get away, warn the Imperium.”
Dason’s eyes never left the three huddled Mongans. “We will,” he muttered. “Just be ready, we may get only one shot at this.”
Just then, the Mongans ended their conversation and turned to stare at Dason and Alena. “Get ready,” Dason whispered.
“Ready for what?” she whispered back.
“Jailbreak,” he muttered.
“Oh,” was all she replied.
One of the Mongans went to the control panel for the translator device and tapped on the flat surface. He joined the other two and with their robes swishing around them, they strode over to Dason.
“We will set the other kurang dai free,” a Mongan stated. “They are of little use to us.”
He pointed at Alena. “This one we will keep. But we warn you, if this is a trick, we will feed it and you to the dogs.”
The Mongan gestured toward the growling animals. “And they are most hungry.”
A Mongan stepped next to Dason, reached up, and yanked the translator device out of his head. Dason tried to stifle a moan of pain, but it escaped his lips nevertheless.
The other Mongan pressed on the side of each chair and the metal restraints sprang away, allowing Alena and Dason to rise. This time it was Alena who helped Dason get to his feet.
The three Mongans produced the tube devices again and motioned for them to leave the room. Dason staggered toward the doorway, bent over in pain.
Holding his midsection, he moaned several times loudly. Alena had one arm around his waist and with the other gripped his arm to keep him from falling to the floor.
Once in the passageway, Dason stumbled along with the help of Alena but several times, he dropped to the floor on one knee, and Alena had to struggle to get him to his feet.
The Mongans prodded them with their tube weapons while the two dogs padded behind the group, their ever-constant growls a clear and present signal to the two humans that death lagged just behind them.
Just as they got to the bulkhead door leading to the compartment that held the other captive humans, Dason pushed his mouth next to Alena’s ear and whispered, “When the door opens.”
Alena squeezed his arm in recognition and then loosened her grip, ready to bring her hands into play.
One of the Mongans held out a hand, and the door slid aside. Dason began to stumble forward but just as he got to the threshold, he slumped to the floor with a loud cry of pain.
As the Mongan standing next to the door reached out to prod him with the tube, Alena yelled, “Leave him alone, can’t you see that he’s hurt!”
Bending over Dason, her head swung up and she met Zane’s eyes who stood just inside the doorway. She gave him a quick wink, a small jerk of her head toward the Mongan, and reached for Dason as if to help him up.
Their eyes met and Dason mouthed the word, “Now!”
He swung his legs out in a vicious scissor kick that caught the nearest Mongan at the knees and sent him crashing to the floor. Alena spun around and dove headfirst into the Mongan right behind her.
Dason threw himself on top of the Mongan and wrestled to get the tube weapon out of his hand. Dason’s time in the torture chair had taken more out of him than he realized. His reflexes were slow and his strength weak as he battled the alien.
The Mongan fought with a ferocity that surprised Dason considering how docile the XTs had appeared on the AP planet.
A body flew through the air and slammed into the third Mongan, sending both skidding into the metal wall. The Mongan, dazed by the unexpected blow, slumped in a heap to the floor.
The wild snarl gave Dason just enough warning to roll his adversary over just as the devil dog landed on both of them. Released from the controller, the canine was a whirlwind of howling fury, snapping and biting at anything close, including its master.
The fiendish canine sank its fangs deep into the shoulder of Dason’s antagonist. With a humanlike shriek, the XT flung its head back in agony.
The Mongan’s tube weapon dropped to the ground but just as Dason reached for it, another hand flashed out and seized it with a firm grip.
Alena punched the weapon’s maw into the wild beast’s side and pressed down on the butt end. In an instant, the dog let out a sharp yelp, arched its back in agony, and whimpering from the pain, collapsed to the floor.
Dason’s fight with the Mongan ended when a curled hand landed a nasty blow to the back of the Mongan’s head. The Mongan slumped over unconscious with Dason trapped underneath.
Dason looked up to see a smiling Karm bending over him. “I love payback,” she laughed and helped Dason push the limp body away.
Alena whirled on the dog that was worrying Zane’s leg even as Zane let go a vicious kick at its head with his other boot.
Leaping over Dason and the unconscious Mongan, Alena thrust the tube against the dog’s muscled shoulder. She pressed the hilt; the dog sprang backward and landed with a dull thud on the floor, the life gone from its eyes.
As Dason and Karm helped Zane to his feet, Alena gestured toward the three unconscious Mongans. “Any chance that these three were the only ones on this tub?”
“Sorry,” Zane replied. “I can’t answer that.”
Surveying the scene, Dason said, “I suggest we get everyone out.”
He motioned down the passageway and asked, “Are the rest of your crew in these side compartments?”
“I believe so,” Zane replied.
“Let’s you and I sta
rt opening doors,” Dason said to Alena.
While Dason and Alena pushed open the neighboring bulkhead doors, Zane and Karm stood guard over the unconscious Mongans and devil dogs.
On his second door, Dason found himself staring into the grinning faces of Jy and Dani. “Heard the ruckus out here,” Jy said, “was kinda hoping it was somebody taking on the Mongans and wearing a scout uniform.”
Dason smiled back and held out his hand. “Good to see you, Jy, how’s the arm?”
“Arm’s good,” Jy replied. He peered over Dason’s shoulder asking, “Is Captain Ruz with you?”
Dason’s instant change in expression and his silence prompted Jy to say, “Is she—”
Jy’s countenance fell at Dason’s mute nod. Dason took a deep breath and said, “I’ll explain later, right now; we’ve got to move.”
“Okay,” Jy replied in a voice hoarse from emotion. “But help me with these two, they showed up about an hour ago and they're kind of weak and groggy from whatever the Mongans did to them.”
Jy turned, and Dason edged around him to help with the two hurt captives. Dason took one look and darted to one of the scouts’ side. He reached out to place his hand against the man’s shoulder and peered into his face.
Jy knelt next to him and glanced sideways at Dason. “Hey,” he said, “you’re acting as if you know this fellow.”
Dason rocked back on his heels and turned to Jy. “I should,” he grinned wide, “he’s my uncle.”
Chapter Eight
Star date: 2443.095
Aboard the Mongan Ship
Choking on his words, Dason said, “I thought you were dead. I saw the Mongan attack by the lake, I didn’t think anyone survived.”
“We almost didn’t,” Jadar grimaced as he sat up. “If we hadn’t gotten a last-second warning, they would’ve caught us out in the open.”
With Dason’s help, Jadar stood on unsteady legs and wrapped an arm around Dason’s shoulder. He gave him a tight squeeze, saying, “I didn’t know if you were alive or dead, either. When I saw the Zephyr gone, my hope was that somehow you had gotten away and were safe.”
