The Between (Earth Exiles Book 3)

by Mark Harritt

  “Up or down?” Mike asked.

  “I say up. Clear the high ground first,” Everett replied.

  Mike led the way up the stairs. They found living quarters on this level. The Turinzoni had been stacked up, ten men in a room, but the others only had two man rooms. There were a few single rooms as well. They cleared them all, then Mike led the way down the second set of stairs.

  Mike moved down into the gloom of the basement. There was a door at the bottom. Mike opened it. There was a five-foot strip of concrete around the edge of the floor. In the middle of the floor was one large open area covered with a metal interwoven mesh. He looked down. He’d found the missing villagers. There was one set of stairs that ran up the side of the pit, and a locked cover that kept the villagers in. Mike looked across the pit to the other side of the room. There was a door set into the wall on the other side.

  Mike heard screaming. He looked down. The villagers were looking up at him, screaming. They were huddled down at the bottom. None of them had a stitch of clothing on. They looked malnourished. He must look like some kind of demon to these people.

  He turned and pointed back the way they came, “We need to get Caul and Geonti down here. They’re going to have to deal with this.”

  Mike followed Everett back up the stairs. They stopped at the top.

  “Damn, they sounded like they’d seen the devil himself,” Tom mused.

  “Yeah, they ain’t too happy down there,” Mickey added.

  “Well, they were kidnapped, stuck in a locked cellar, and they’ve seen their grandparents murdered. Then we, covered in blood, walked in looking like cyborg warriors. I can understand why they’re traumatized,” Everett pointed out.

  Mike called Ken, “Ken, can you send somebody to bring Caul and the hunters in here.”

  “Yeah. Drapier, go get Caul and the others. Bring them back here.”

  They waited for ten minutes, then the door opened and Caul, Geonti, and the others walked in.

  Geonti spoke first, “Did you find them, Mike?”

  “Yeah, Geonti, they’re down below.”

  Geonti started toward the stairs. Mike stepped in front of Geonti and held his hands up, “Whoa. Before you go down there, you need to know what’s going on.”

  Caul stepped forward, “What is wrong, Mike?”

  Mike shook his head, “Maybe nothing, but they started screaming when they saw us.”

  Caul hesitated, then nodded, “We can go down there, and explain it to them.”

  Mike nodded, “Yeah, but realize, they’ve been through a lot. I think we scared them. Let us know when we can come back down.”

  Caul nodded, “Okay, I understand.”

  Mike stepped out of the way. Caul hurried down the steps. Geonti and the others followed. The team waited, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes.

  “I hope this works,” Everett said.

  Mike agreed, “Yeah, let’s hope so. We still have to get them back on the aircraft and away from here.”

  Caul reappeared, “Mike, we talked to them. They understand now. But, we have a problem. We can’t find the key to the lock.”

  Mike held up a hand, “We’ll get the director in here. Hey Ken, can you bring the director back in here?”

  “The one with the lion’s mane?”

  “Yeah, that’s the one.”

  “Yeah, give me a second.”

  A few minutes later, and Ken brought the director in.

  The director was deferential, almost fawning, bowing as he spoke, “Sir, what do you need?”

  “I need for you to go down and open up the slave pen,” Mike told him.

  The director’s bowing stopped, and he looked worried, “Why do you want me to do that?”

  “Because we’re going to free the slaves. That’s why we’re here.”

  “Are you sure? Do you really want to do this?”

  Mike studied the director. The director was more than worried, he was nervous.

  “What are you nervous about, director?”

  “I ah, ah, I mean . . .”

  Mike walked over to the short man. The director tried to back up, but he bumped into Ken, who didn’t move at all.

  Mike hooked his thumb at the stairwell, “Do you have the keys?”

  The director nodded quickly, then thought the best of it, and tried to shake his head. He was sweating profusely.

  Mike had enough. He reached forward and grabbed the director’s collar and pulled him forward. The director tried to turn and get around Ken, but Mike’s grip on his collar and Ken’s body kept him from running.

  Mike pulled him back and turned him around, “Where the hell are you trying to run to? What’s going on?”

  The director looked at Mike, pleading, “You don’t understand. We don’t have a choice. We have to do this. If we don’t do this, then the Dostori Rev will kill our families.”

  Mike had a very bad feeling about this. He held out his hand, “Give me the keys.”

  The director fumbled for the keys and handed them to Mike. Mike pointed at him, and told Ken, “He doesn’t move from there.”

  Mike turned and walked toward the stairs. Caul turned and walked down in front of Mike. Mike walked onto the mesh floor. He was relieved that they weren’t screaming anymore. He walked over to the lock on the cage door. Geonti stepped aside as Mike knelt down to the lock. First, Mike had to find the right key, then it took a few seconds for him to figure out how to use the key, since it was a design he wasn’t used to. He opened the lock and stood back. The hunters lifted the door up, and Mike stepped away.

  He couldn’t understand why the director was so nervous. The people looked a little underfed, maybe a little dehydrated, but they didn’t look too bad. Mike looked around the room. Then he remembered the door on the other side of the room. Mike walked over, and tried to open it. It was locked. Mike went through the keys again, until he found the correct one. He turned the lock, opened the door, and stepped in.

  He was stunned. He felt his chest tighten, and he couldn’t breathe. He fumbled with the strap on his helmet. He pulled the helmet off and dropped it on the floor, and cool air hit him in the face. It was still too much for him, and he felt his gorge rising.

  Behind him, he heard Geonti calling out for his girlfriend, “Retha, has anybody seen Retha?”

  Mike couldn’t hold it in anymore. He was a hard man. He’d seen, and smelled burning bodies after an airstrike. He couldn’t take this though. He threw up on the floor. He felt dizzy, and had to lean against the door jamb.

  “Mike, what is wrong?”

  Mike felt Caul’s hand on his back. Quickly, he tried to block the doorway, but Caul looked around him. Caul screamed in horror. Geonti came running over, and saw what was in the room, stunned into silence. Dind and Leth looked around Geonti. Dind groaned when he saw what was in the room.

  Everett, Tom and Mickey came barreling down the stairs, weapons up. Behind them, Ken was pushing the director down the stairs.

  When Everett didn’t see any threat, he walked over to Mike, “What the hell’s going on?” Then he slowed when he saw the look on Mike’s face. Mike just shook his head. Everett walked up to Mike, and looked into the room, and saw what had shaken Mike.

  The corpses of children were stacked haphazardly in a corner. Other bodies were in various stages of vivisection. They’d been cut open, flayed skin pulled back, muscle cut so that organs could be seen underneath. That wasn’t the true horror that had made Mike ill, though.

  Some of the vivisected bodies were still alive. Tubes transferred fluids in and out. Hearts still pumped, and lungs filled with air. Stomachs and bowels pulsed as blood pumped through them. Still alive, their faces flayed with no eyelids to close, their eyes stared at him. Mike didn’t understand why they weren’t screaming. That was the horror. Their humanity stripped from them, they couldn’t even scream.

  Mike turned and looked past Caul at the director. Caul, Geonti, and the others turned to look at him as well. Caul pulled h
is knife from the sheath with soft hiss that seemed to echo as other knives came out. They walked toward the director.

  He held his hands out, “No, no. Please, Noooooooooooo!” He screamed and continued screaming for a long time. He screamed until his throat was too raw to scream anymore. He screamed because his victims couldn’t.

  ----------------------------------------------------

  Epilog

  Om Varee stood on Dostori Rev’s balcony staring at the teeming humanity below. The city, a microcosm of the galaxy beyond, represented the worst of the moribund, faltering societies that depended on technologies pried from the corpses of ancient civilizations.

  The despots that currently controlled territories large and small were terrified that someone would resurrect the technologies that had raised the great shining empires of the past. They played a zero sum game in which they lost if someone else gained. This fear compelled them to seize, hide, or destroy any technology they deemed a threat. Oligarchies, theocracies, collectives, hereditary monarchies, they were all the same. Fearing the masses they controlled would rise up against them, rulers were brutal to any real or imaginary challenges to their autocratic regimes.

  Things seemed to be getting worse as the great cycle of the galaxy continued. Humanity in its myriad forms seemed to be debauching to greater decadence as they delighted in finding new horrors to visit on each other. His own childhood, one spent avoiding rape gangs and slavers on his home world had underscored the brutality and indifference of the world around him at a very young age.

  “You aren’t paying attention, Om Varee.”

  He turned to see the Dostori Rev standing behind him. She was dressed in a diaphanous gown that did nothing to hide her lush femininity. He spread his hands and bowed low, “I’m sorry, Dostori Rev. I didn’t know that you had returned.”

  She pouted as she tried to convince him that he wasn’t attentive to her. He held his hand out. She put her hand in his, and he kissed it. Her pout was gone as he played the game that she had chosen. She smiled at him, and crooked a finger, beckoning him toward her. He walked over, and she slipped an arm through his, “You know, Om Varee, you helped me immensely.”

  He dipped his head, “I live to serve you, Dostori Rev.”

  She patted his arm, “Believe me, you did. The reports that you gave me about what was happening on the western continent were invaluable. I can’t believe I spent money on the Turinzoni. Their incompetence was . . . staggering.”

  He tilted his head forward, “Well, the Turinzoni did have their strengths. I just believe they were not well suited for that particular mission.”

  She glanced up and studied his face. He knew she was looking for any sign that meant that he was criticizing her judgement. She smiled at him, signaling that she didn’t find any.

  She nodded, “You may be right about that. Still, if they weren’t capable of that particular job, then the Lord Caon shouldn’t have given me his word that they were capable, don’t you agree?”

  He inclined his head forward again, “I agree. He should have been more honest about his men’s capabilities.”

  She nodded, “I was somewhat upset when you told me about the losses that they sustained. And, when you told me that my outpost had been destroyed, I admit I lost my temper.”

  She guided him toward a small table. A platter sat on it. The platter held an object covered by a towel.

  “So, I have to admit, I had to find something to vent my frustration on.”

  As they approached the platter, Om Varee could see the congealed blood that was coagulating on it. He had no doubt what he was about to see. He’d already heard through his agents what had occurred

  Dostori Rev pulled the towel off of the severed head of the Lord Caon. The distended, brutalized features of the Turinzoni Lord indicated that the severing of his head had probably been a mercy. She watched Om Varee’s face for a reaction, but was disappointed when his features didn’t change. She let the towel drop on the platter next to the head.

  He knew the Lord Caon’s severed head was a message for him as well. Still, if she’d seen what he had from the cameras in the compound, she may not have been inclined to kill the Lord Caon.

  Om Varee watched the operation as it happened. He’d wanted to get a better understanding of the capabilities of the soldiers that had been able to destroy the Turinzoni battalion. He’d been very impressed with their operation. Using the dragons to create a diversion had been a stroke of genius. Of course, he’d ensured that none of that was relayed through the satellite feeds to the Dostori Rev’s people. In fact, he’d been spoofing much of the satellite imagery to hide what was happening to the Turinzoni for weeks.

  He’d been very happy with his operative as well. The man had taken the initiative when it was presented to him, and now Om Varee had four men working with this unknown military unit.

  Dostori Rev fixated on the severed head. She caressed it for a moment, looking at it almost lovingly. She looked around as if something was missing. She walked to her dressing table and picked up a brush. She walked back to the severed head and tried to brush the Lord Caon’s hair into place.

  “So, because of his stupidity, I lost 394 Turinzoni soldiers,” she roughly pulled the brush through the hair. “I’ve lost two transports, 43 bioengineers were murdered, all the supplies were stolen, and the dragons destroyed the base when the force fields were shut down.”

  She looked at Om Varee, “Am I missing anything?”

  He shook his head, “No, Dostori Rev, you have not.”

  A few wispy hairs didn’t want to cooperate. She grew frustrated and threw the brush down. She put her hands on either side of the head, pressing her thumbs against the dull eyes. With a pop and squelch, the eyes collapsed. She stared at the face of her erstwhile military commander. She picked up the head and brought it back down, slamming it into the table. She did it again.

  Om Varee watched as her rage slowly built. Blood, flesh, and bone flew from the crushed skull, covering her arms and chest as she continued to pound it into the table. Her face contorted as anger over took her. She continued to slam the head into the table over and over, her rage driving her into a gore covered frenzy.

  Satisfied that the Dostori Rev’s ire was directed at the erstwhile Lord Caon, Om Varee watched her dance on the edge of madness. She didn’t know it, but she was but a small step in a very complex game that Om Varee was playing. There was a game, its origins lost in antiquity, simple in design, but complex in play. Shaxmati was played on a board with 64 squares and thirty-two pieces. It could be learned in an afternoon, but took a lifetime to master.

  Om Varee knew what the Dostori Rev did not. The Dostori Rev thought that she was an empress on the board, but Om Varee knew she was only a pawn. As he thought about the strange soldiers in their black outfits, he wondered if they were simple pawns, or if they would develop into something more. Only time could tell.

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  Rich tramped through the snow. He’d been teamed with Geonti and another hunter named Rieci. Geonti and Rieci were walking out in front of him. They’d been one of six teams dropped in the area to scout for a good location. They were the last team out, and they’d been dropped farther north than any of the others.

  “Well, if we move up here, we don’t have to worry about any more damned dragons,” he thought.

  Geonti looked back at Rich, “Are you tired?”

  Rich shook his head, “No, no problem. I’m good.”

  Bobby had been working hard on the translation problem. The teams couldn’t carry a computer everywhere they went. Plus, they didn’t have enough computers to go around for all the teams. So he’d developed a translator that used blue tooth technology to allow instantaneous translation with new programming in the old cell phones. Now, everybody on the teams wore earbuds.

  “We can stop for a while if you want to.”

  Rich waved Geonti forward, “No keep going. The soon
er we finish our recce, the sooner we get out of here.”

  Rich looked at the mountains around him. Then he saw something unusual. There was a mist rising further up the mountain side. It seemed to be billowing out of the mountain

  “Hey, Geonti, you see that?”

  Rich pointed at the mist.

  Geonti looked in the direction that Rich was pointing. He saw the mist rising, “What do you think it is?”

  Rich shrugged, “Geothermal maybe?”

  “You want to go look at it?”

  Rich nodded, “Yeah, let’s go take a look.”

  Caul called out to Rieci, “Turn and head up toward that mist.”

  Rieci nodded and turned toward the mountain. They trudged through the snow. Eventually, the snow started getting shallower and turned into ice as they climbed higher. The dark ground here collected more sun, melting the snow. Eventually, the ice turned into scree.

  Rich looked at the ground. Something looked strange. The ground seemed to have regular angles under the scree and ice. It was weathered, but it didn’t look like a natural formation.

  They kept walking, and the ground seemed to level out. Ahead, they saw where the steam rose from the ground.

  Rieci stopped as they approached the mist. Geonti and Rich walked up to him.

  Geonti looked at Rieci, “Why’d you stop?”

  “It’s thick. I thought we should stay close.”

  Rich smiled, “Sounds like a good idea to me.”

  Geonti rolled his eyes and pointed for Rieci to continue. Rieci stepped into the mist and the others followed. The mist swallowed them up.

  Seconds slipped by.

  From the mist, Rich’s voice rang out, “What the hell is that?”

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