Viole

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by Derek Baker


  Wendra was on a path to eventually control the entire galaxy, so it seemed. First its neighboring planet of Genmo Kaya, then Deyhaytin ten light years away, then the world of Acknon twenty light years away, then more planets on a list that went on and on. Everything had been going according to plan until they preyed upon Robhustare, a small barren planet at the edge of the sector.

  The sector had been in a delicate peace before Wendra disrupted everything: trade had been flourishing. But Albalon IV had other plans for this trade. He aspired to control it. Robhustare’s ancient society and intellectual prowess proved a surprisingly strong opponent, however.

  But once Robhustare had been conquered, Wendra would secure this domination. From there the possibilities were endless. Perhaps Wendra could go on to control more. Beyond the sector. Beyond the quadrant. Maybe Wendra could someday centuries or millennia in the future control the entire Milky Way?

  “Come take a walk with me, Quansor.”

  The two ventured outdoors, around the grounds that encircled the Emperor’s palace. The blue leafed shrubbery of which the area consisted was cut out in an almost maze-like pattern. The Emperor liked a good puzzle.

  Looking around, the Emperor took in his surroundings.

  “That sky, today, Quansor! It’s a deeper blue today, almost purple!” he exclaimed.

  “I believe a storm approaches this evening, my lord.”

  The Emperor brushed away his comment. “Bah. You are not a meteorologist, though. Do you consider yourself to be such?”

  Quansor sensed his boss’s testing. Albalon’s temper could be breached with the simplest chiding. “Why no, your highness, I’m not.”

  “Then what are you, my dear Quansor?”

  “I’m your military advisor.”

  The Emperor smiled cunningly, nodding. “That’s correct. With that said, tell me of this new idea you’ve talked up so much. I’ve been waiting for months for you to get back from the front. So tell me.”

  “Well, my lord, as you know, we are both avid pursuers of learning the craft of history. Using this tool can help one discover weaknesses in an enemy, which I believe I found one with Robhustare.”

  “Do tell, Quansor, I can hardly wait,” Albalon stopped in his tracks.

  “Are you aware that Robhustare has a sister planet?”

  “No,” the Emperor narrowed his eyes in thought, “I don’t believe I knew that.”

  “Robhustare has it under strict surveillance and protection. The most interesting thing though, is that its inhabitants have no idea that anyone other than themselves exist as a race.”

  “This is an intelligent species you are speaking of?” The Emperor asked.

  “Yes, of course.”

  “I think I’m starting to see where you’re going with this.” The pair began walking again.

  “Yes. I’ve already been sending spy ships onto its surface for reconnaissance purposes. It’s a very wet world, your highness, more water than land.”

  The Emperor’s face grew excited. “Water!?”

  “Yes, lots of it. Much of it salt water but that can be easily fixed. Can you imagine the trading capabilities it would have under Wendran control?”

  “One could grow unimaginably wealthy on just that one commodity alone.”

  “Indeed. This is why I come with this advice: attack this rogue watery planet, and Robhustare will rush to its aid. Its attention will be split.”

  “Are you sure Robhustare cares that much about this neighboring planet?” The Emperor enquired.

  “Oh, I’m sure there will be debate in their legislature, but they will. History can’t lie. Additionally, were we to easily take over this planet without interference from Robhustare, they would be giving us a free outpost close in proximity. A perfect vantage point it would be, practically at their doorstep. Actually, we’re at an advantage either way. We can’t lose, if you ask me.”

  “Then make it so as soon as possible, Quansor.”

  “I will have to make the order to pull some warships from the front in order to make this happen. It could take a long time, I’m afraid.”

  “Well, my previous statement stands. As soon as possible.”

  “Very well then, your highness.”

  Truth be told, the Emperor already knew all of the information that Quansor had just given him. Ignorant was not on his list of characteristics. In fact, he had his own personal affairs with which he was dealing on that wet planet. But to the Emperor, it was best that his right man knew nothing of this. Only he could be in control of everything, have a deep knowledge and understanding of what was happening throughout his reign of power. But even more important than that was the necessity of keeping up an illusion that he needed others, that he might rely on someone other than himself. Providing this illusion and then perfectly executing this was part of Albalon’s cunning.

  What he doesn’t know is that I’ve been working on that planet for years now. It’s probably for the best, though, that he doesn’t know about my personal spy there…thought Albalon.

  The pair continued strolling in silence, admiring the weather.

  “I swear the sky is almost violet today,” the Emperor said to himself, “I suppose, if what you said was true, Quansor, a violet sky during the day signals a violent sky at night.”

  “Indeed,” Quansor agreed.

  The Emperor looked over at Quansor, sensed there was something more his advisor wanted to say to him.

  “Have you more news for me?” he asked.

  “Well, actually…I do,” Quansor replied.

  “Then out with it, my good man! You know I wouldn’t tolerate this with anyone else…”

  “There was an interesting development on one of our reconnaissance missions, my lord.”

  “Oh?”

  “It seems one of our ships was forced to kidnap a couple of natives after it foolishly made a landing on the planet’s surface.”

  The Emperor shook his head. “Idiots…I’ll have them summarily executed upon their return.”

  “Perhaps this could be advantageous, my lord. We could study these creatures, learn about their physical structures. What tortures they respond most to.”

  The Emperor frowned. “I suppose you’re right. In that case, have that ship return to Wendra.”

  “Here, sir?”

  “Yes, I want to get a look at the creatures whose lives we’re about to destroy. Watch the last fledgling hopes of freedom fade from their faces. Nothing pleases me more than that, Quansor.”

  Chapter 9

  January 2135

  I struggled to move. It was one of those very odd sensations where I was asleep but aware of my body, in a subconscious state. As hard as I tried, my muscles would not respond to any of my attempts to move them.

  Panic began setting in. I decided to start off small, maybe just a finger…

  I concentrated on my right index finger. Although I couldn’t see it, I imagined its ligaments and three sections all joined together as a single entity independent from my body. I focused all of my energy into it, all my concentration. Finally, I managed to move it every so slightly. Then I managed to wiggle a few more fingers. With some additional effort I could make a fist. Slowly but surely with the passage of what seemed like hours, I started to flex the muscles in my arms, attempting to maneuver them around.

  I had no idea where I was, and I had been dreaming for what felt like years. Most of them had been coincidentally water related, whether it was canoeing down a river or sailing the ocean on some old pirate ship. Many were also about Claire, and the unfinished business I felt I had to attend to. Some were even a mix of water and the one who got away as I had began to think of her, due to one of the dreams being about making love to her under a waterfall. It’s crazy what our mind can come with.

  The most dreadful nightmares were the ones filled with aliens, the ones that had captured me, my last memory. As I dreamed away without end, I wasn’t entirely sure if any of it had really happened, if a
ny of it was really true. I started to wonder if these aliens were just a reoccurring series in the larger collection of my dreams. There were so many things going through my mind during this time, though it was almost like I had forgotten who I was and what it meant to be awake. I was caught up with my personality that I portrayed in my dreams.

  Part of me knew I had been asleep all this time, as one could be in a lucid dream. Was I in a coma? A catatonic sleep?

  After more hours of effort I could now partially move my right arm, and I thought if I could just bring my hand up to my face and open my sealed eyes, I could wake up. Each thrust of my arm was a failure but I found I could get closer surely and steadily. I thought about giving up and going back to my adventurous dreams on the open sea, and as I dwelt upon it, the comforting thought practically led me there:

  I was suddenly then transported to a scene in which I was the captain of a ship caught in a violent storm, more than likely a hurricane. The wind was literally ripping the ship apart, and members of my crew were forced to jump over board to meet their inevitable watery death. Suddenly, the main mast cracked loudly in front of me from my stance behind the wheel and I watched it tumbling down in my direction. My muscles wanted to freeze, but the only way to escape being crushed was to join my loyal crew in their fate of drowning.

  Would it have been better to meet a quick death from the falling timber or a slow painful one amidst the waves?

  In the nick of time, however, I jumped out of the way of what would’ve meant being crushed instantly and plunged into the dark, swirling depths below. I flailed my limbs about, but the turbulent waves were so powerful that it was impossible to stay afloat. My struggle to survive and breathe was growing more futile, less possible with each passing second. A clock ticked in my brain, lulling me into a soft, comforting relaxation.

  Maybe this isn’t so bad…I thought.

  Finally, I gave in to the treacherous waters and began sinking down, further and further…

  Then my eyes opened. But then closed due to the harsh brightness. Then opened again. In the reality of the waking world, I was still trapped, suspended in some sort of tank filled with liquid.

  That would explain why I’ve had these dreams about water…I thought.

  To my fascination, I was not drowning thanks to a thin, long tube inserted into my chest which I followed with my eyes to see it was inserted into chest and ultimately my lungs in order to provide me with oxygen. If one were able forget the circumstances, I would have to admit that it was actually pretty neat to not have to breathe and let the machine do the work for me. Without any effort of my own, I felt my lungs filling with air and subsequently depleted. Once this lost my admiration, however, my bewilderment augmented as I began to try and determine my whereabouts. Except for my own nude body submerged and floating about, I could only see bright, white light through the glass of the tank.

  I decided to focus on what I did know. My name is Delvon Galihue, I thought, and I’m nineteen years old. I have a diploma in astrophysics. I have a presumably ex-girlfriend named Claire. My parents are Franklin Galihue and Theresa Gilbert. I’m five feet, eleven inches tall. I love a juicy steak with a mound of mashed potatoes. My favorite color is red. Stargazing is one of my favorite hobbies. I recently made a friend named Alexander Curtis who likes stargazing as well. This blatant statement of fact seemed to help.

  At that instant everything came back to me with a dramatic mental slam. Halley’s Comet, the aliens, everything that had happened that last evening that I could remember. And where was Alexander? I wondered if he was in another tank nearby, or if he had even made it this far. This was obviously the aliens’ doing, whoever or whatever they were. I could have been anywhere, I figured. The unconsciousness I had worked so hard to come out of nowhere and suddenly took over again and I fell back into a long sleep. All the thinking had apparently exhausted my tired body.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

  Sometime later, I awoke once more in this fascinating tank. However, it wasn’t by my own efforts as it had been before. Disrupting the encompassing bright light that I could see outside my tank, there stood a figure fiddling with a black box that was attached to my tank. He was working a lock and eventually the door to this box swung open, at which point he pressed some sort of button that instantly brought my life giving tank to life.

  A series of beeping noises was followed by the tank’s liquid draining to the top of the tank by a vacuum. I started traveling up a few inches, but the liquid that had enveloped me disappeared rapidly. Wrongly assuming I would drop to the bottom of the tank with a hard thud, I was taken aback when I was still floating in mid-air. Gravity was gone.

  The figure on the outside of the tank then pressed another button and the tank opened at the bottom where another vacuum sucked me downward. As if direction really mattered. With this interruption to my long sleep, I was now fully awake and aware, thus I discovered that a pack I was wearing on my back was providing me with the oxygen that had allowed me to exist within that tank. The dreamy state in the tank had left me unable to perceive it previously. But I had no time for such trivial realizations; the bottom of the tank was leading me to the entrance of a long tunnel through which I was sucked down in darkness.

  At the end of this tunnel I was finally drawn down into a container large enough to fit a few people and there I was suspended again. It dawned one me that I could be nowhere other than outer space, but as cool as that would have been in any other situation, I found it difficult to enjoy much of anything in this overwhelming confusion.

  After a moment’s wait and awkward silence, the container opened up and a hand with two opposable thumbs reached in and grabbed me by the wrist, pulling me out into the open room. Upon coming out, I observed my surroundings: I was in a large, somewhat dark chamber, with beds lined up against the walls. This room was evidently specified for medical purposes. The alien that had grabbed me was not, much to my confusion, suffering from zero gravity. It was wearing a dark blue suit that covered its entire body except for its head, but I was completely naked. As it grasped my wrist, it walked across the room and at the end of one of the rows of beds we came to a storage bin that held more of these suits. It went through the suits and looked back at me a few times, probably trying to determine what size would fit me. After holding a couple up to me and shaking its head, it came upon one that looked like it would accommodate me and made a gesture that I put it on. I could understand the creature’s predicament; most of them were much taller than me.

  Still floating in mid-air, I did my best to slip into this suit. As each of my limbs found its place, everything started to feel heavier. I realized these suits had some sort of ability to create a sense of gravity for whosoever should occupy them. Unfortunately, this realization came a little late when I slipped the entire suit on and went tumbling onto the floor, landing on my back. It was a hard thud; I was lucky I didn’t land on my head.

  The alien who had given me the suit and had been watching me let out a strange exhalation of air that I took to be laughter. Maybe these things had a sense of humor. Or maybe it was just annoyed by me. Though its facial expressions changed, I had no idea what each meant as they were different than the human ones I had been used to all my life.

  Dragging me up to my feet, it motioned for me to walk. However, just standing up made my legs tremble with weakness and I fell back again. I wondered how long I had been asleep if my legs had remained inactive long enough to prevent walking. Instead of the alien picking me back up, I used my arms to prop me back up and tried to stand once more. The result proved to be the same as the first time. This time, the alien picked me up with one of its arms by my neck and set me down in a sitting position on one of the many beds in this medical room.

  Assuming I wouldn’t get far, the alien turned its back to me and proceeded to leave the room through a motion-activated door on the other side of the room. The alien looked both ways down the hall and turned left. The door shut behind it and I was
left alone in the room. In my solitude, I was left to admire the many things lying about: the beds, the many cabinets lining the opposite wall, the various multi-colored lights that littered surfaces here and there. It was dimly lit in this room, but the hallway that was revealed by the opening of the door was fairly bright.

  Not having a clue when it would be returning, my mind immediately turned to thoughts of escape. Though this alien had been mostly gentle with me, I knew there were others like it that would not treat me with such civility, as I had experienced the last time I remembering being awake. There were so many questions that I had, but no way to ask them; these creatures did not know my language or my emotions either, it seemed. I imagined they probably had their own language that I couldn’t understand either. The night they captured me I could have sworn they were conversing in whatever strange tongue they had as their means of communication amongst themselves.

  I had to have some answers, I ultimately decided while sitting there alone. Hanging around waiting for that alien to come back wasn’t a sensible option. My arms and upper body still had strength for whatever reason, so by using them I devised to utilize what power still remained in my legs and hoisted myself onto the floor. If I couldn’t walk, then I would crawl if necessary. On all fours, I made slow but steady progress across the room.

  I made my way to the door, reaching it after a moment of uncomfortable and strenuous dragging of my body along the floor. But much to my misfortune, it opened for me at the very second that two guards in the hallway were passing by. Giving each other a quick glance with minimal time to waste the aliens sprung at me, letting out terrible shrieks as if to alert others of what was happening. In a matter of seconds I was shoved back down onto the bed from which I had come. I became aware that I was yelling at the top of my lungs, not saying any articulate words, but just screaming. Terror took over, the senses amplified. The guards pinned me down despite my violent convulsions of resistance, making it impossible to move or put up any further struggle. Desperation remained, and tears started filling my drowsy catatonic eyes.

 

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