by T. R. Harris
The natives referred to themselves as Nar, and they had rudimentary electronics and wheeled vehicles powered my fossil fuels, yet no space travel. They marveled each time Panur and Lila flew their incredible starship—the one that was now a thin cloud of debris streaming toward an unnamed star eighty light-years away. The Najmah Fayd was an even more impressive craft, drawing gasps of amazement as it rested on the surface of the primitive spaceport the mutants had had constructed near their residence.
Then came Syrus Jacs’ ship. It, too, inspired gasps, but of concern rather than awe.
If ever a vessel should be classified a derelict, this was it. It was an ugly amalgamation of at least four other discarded starships, welded together along clumpy seams and confusing in its basic orientation. At first glance it was almost impossible to determine the head from the tail.
Riyad was confused. From the sophisticated look of Jacs’ headquarters building on Lasiter, the merchant-trader appeared to be very successful at what he did. Looking now at his spaceship, Riyad had his doubts.
He was waiting near the exit hatch of the hideous starship with the rest of his so-called crew when Syrus appeared. Riyad hadn’t heard the name of his race, but he found the alien to be about his height, gaunt-faced, with a scraggly crop of pure white hair radiating out from his head. He was slender, with standard arms, legs and hands. Yet it was the eyes that truly labeled him as an alien, at least to the Humans. They were two protruding sockets set on each side of his head, allowing him to look in multiple directions at the same time. Most lizards and fish used the same set-up, so Riyad knew it worked—for them. It was an odd experience facing the creature and not knowing which eye to focus on. So he focused on his narrow nose instead.
Syrus scanned the faces of the six creatures waiting for him outside his ship until he spotted Benefis. Then both eyes whipped around and pointed at the Juirean.
“I thought we had an exclusive deal, Panur? What is the Juirean doing amongst you?”
“I have no idea,” the mutant replied. “He came with the others.”
“This is my customer, Benefis. I know not what you are attempting.”
“I am not attempting anything. I am but an unwitting passenger aboard the Humans’ spaceship.”
“Humans?” Syrus looked at Sherri and Riyad, and then a moment longer at Arieel. “What are Humans doing here? I have never met one before, yet I understand they are dangerous and ill-tempered.”
“We can also hear,” said Sherri.
“Of course you can. What does that have to do with anything?”
“It means show a little respect.”
Syrus nodded, while his eyes darted to each of the others. “Indeed…ill-tempered and easily provoked.”
“Just get this jerk his credits, Panur, so he can get out of here in his piece-of-shit spaceship.”
The alien focused his eyes on Sherri as the embedded translation bug near his tiny earholes did its best deciphering the phrasing. “I understand you do not respect my vessel?”
“Sure I do,” Sherri countered. “I respect the fact that it’s still in one piece after landing. How long that miracle lasts is anyone’s guess.”
Syrus took a step toward Sherri, but then changed his mind after recalling the stories he’d heard about Humans. “My ship is a fine example of frugal innovation and adaption. It is structurally sound, incredibly fast, and powerfully armed. The appearance is as it has evolved, which also adds to its deceptive value when confronting hostile forces. You would be wise not to underestimate my ship.”
“It could use a fucking paint job.”
“Paint does not mate,” said Syrus after the translation.
“Let’s move on, please,” Panur said, stepping in. “I have a transport waiting. Please allow me—and Lila—to enter first, as appearances must be maintained for our subjects.”
********
Even though the palace was covered in gold, it wouldn’t win any awards for design innovation. It was just a huge box, five stories tall and covering the footprint of a standard football field. Five rows of tinted windows wrapped the building on each floor, yet when they entered they found most of the interior open all the way to the ceiling. Only about twenty meters to the left and right was filled with additional rooms.
Panur led them to a golden doorway that opened to an elevator.
“What’s with all the damn gold?” Sherri asked. “I should have brought my sunglasses.”
“My subjects—”
“Our subjects,” Lila corrected.
“Yes…our subjects insisted on it. You think that with the amount put into this building that the metal would be ubiquitous, yet it is not. Apparently this structure contains over two thirds of all the gold ever recovered on the planet. Nothing is too good—or rare—for their gods.”
Syrus’s mouth had fallen open at the first sight of the palace. “Perhaps I have undercharged for my products. I would gladly take the elevator door as fair compensation in lieu of future Juirean credits.”
“And then the cab would be without a door,” Panur stated. “I have more credits than I have gold elevator doors. I shall pay in credits, not doors.”
“Regrettable.”
“Syrus Jacs, I will insist that you remain on Panurland until I have developed the parts list for the conversion I will be doing on Riyad’s ship. I have much of what I need already here, yet I can think of a dozen or so items I require from off-planet. Are you agreeable to this?”
“If it means additional orders, of course.”
“Good. Now as we exit, there will be attendants who will escort you to individual quarters.”
“I wish to stay with my mother,” Lila said, to Panur’s apparent surprise.
“Of course, this being a reunion of sorts.”
Riyad could tell in both the tone and body language of the two mutants that it was much more than that. It looked as though Arieel was going to get her wish of having her daughter back at her side.
“I’ll bunk with Riyad,” Sherri blurted.
Riyad jerked his head around at the fiery blonde.
“Relax, stud, we have a lot of planning to do for the rest of the mission. It would be good to spend the time doing that while Panur works on the ship.”
“I require private accommodations,” Benefis stated emphatically.
“As do I,” said Syrus.
“They are simply sleeping quarters,” said Panur, his exasperation showing. “It was not meant to start another galactic war.”
Riyad could see the disgust on the mutant’s face as he relinquished custody of his guests—and Lila—to the waiting attendants, and marched off down the gold-lined hallway, his tiny fists clenched in frustration. He might be the most intelligent creature across multiple universes, but he still hadn’t solved the greatest mystery of all: how to make other people happy. It just wasn’t something he had an aptitude for.
Chapter 14
Unlike other starfaring civilizations, there were no diplomats, entrepreneurs, or even tourists on Kor. The Sol-Kor didn’t operate like that. They ate every race they came in contact with, all except the Salifens.
These simple-minded creatures were all throughout the capital pyramid, even tasked with supplying Adam with his daily meal—his one meal, no more, no less, and at exactly the same time every day. Routines were dangerous, especially when one had a desperate SEAL-trained Human watching your every move.
Adam had thought long and hard on what he would do if he managed to escape his chambers. He would still be in a huge structure housing a million enemies, and on a planet where only two distinct races wandered its surface. In other circumstances, he would have been able to blend in with a diverse population of aliens. Not here. He would stand out like a sore thumb—or a tasty morsel.
Another subject of planning involved his artificial telepathy device, the brain-interface unit he had buried under the skin below his right armpit. For such an intellect, Adam was surprised that J’nae had bought hi
s explanation that not all Humans were susceptible to the Sol-Kor suppressor beam. But beyond conjuring up some sparkling balls of static electricity, he hadn’t been able to connect with any of the Sol-Kor command modules or circuits. His device was compatible with Formilian-designed units only, and not those made by the Sol-Kor. He could detect electrical hotspots, including plasma weapons. He just couldn’t do anything to affect their operation.
The Sol-Kor also pulled no punches when it came to surveilling his quarters. There were cameras everywhere, and in plain sight. He was being watched and they wanted him to know it. That still did not stop him from surveying every square inch of his prison. Stone floors, stone and metal walls, and only one doorway in or out.
He knew he could overpower any of the Sol-Kor guards outside, at least the first ten or so. But with a million more as backup, he didn’t feel that was the way to go.
It would have to be with the help of the Salifens.
There were three who rotated between serving his meals and tending to his quarters. He spoke with all of them, attempting to make friends. He called them Manny, Moe, and Jack. Being such simple creatures, they were always polite and friendly, although Adam felt this was just the way they were. They held no concern for him other than the task before them. If he dropped dead in front of them, they would just stand there emotionless until instructed to remove the body. That’s what the Salifens did—they carried things—plates of food, containers of water…or his dead body—it made no difference to them.
But they did unlock the doors on a predicable schedule.
It was a few days after the broadsword match with the Queen that Adam decided to take his interaction with the Salifens to the next level.
It was Moe’s turn, and like clockwork, the door was unlatched and the tall, smooth-skinned alien entered carrying a tray of the same brown mush Adam had been eating for the past month-and-a-half. Two Sol-Kor guards eyed him from the open doorway, as Moe sat the tray on the solitary dining table in the huge living quarters.
Adam lay on the bed, his shirt off, the bandage from the close call he had with J’nae’s blade still attached to his skin.
“I cannot eat at the table, not with my injury.”
Moe’s reaction was predictable. He blinked several times and his jaw fell slack. He looked at Adam and then at the tray of food. Then he picked up the tray and took a step toward Adam.
“No, I require a place to set the tray.”
“The space next to you?”
“No. I require a cart with wheels for the food. A cart with a long cloth covering.”
“To place the tray?”
“Yes. Now go get a cart. I’ve seen them. You have them around.”
“That is not how I was instructed to deliver your food.”
“Instructions have changed.”
“I was not told.”
“You are being told now.”
“Yes…I am.”
“Go find a cart and bring it to me. Tell the guards you have been instructed to do so.”
********
Moe left, confused but obedient. He returned fifteen minutes later with the cloth-covered cart. The guards didn’t protest.
Once the cart was at the side of the bed, Moe returned to the table and retrieved the tray of brown mush.
“Now leave me as I eat. When you return, I will be under the covers and asleep, so do not bother me when you remove the cart.”
Adam wolfed down the mush and then dimmed the lights, preparing for sleep. It was early, but the guards seldom entered his quarters, so afternoon naps were becoming more common. They helped to combat the boredom of his captivity.
He climbed under the covers, bundling much of the sheets and blanket in the form of a sleeping figure. Then, still under the cover of the sheets, he scooted over in the bed and slipped off next to the cart, ducking underneath, hidden by the cloth covering the cart.
He crouched for several minutes until Moe returned. By then his knees were cramping up. With a grimace, he began to hop along the floor when the Salifen began to roll the cart toward the doorway.
Cart and escapee made it through the doorway without incident. He assumed the guards could see the sleeping figure under the covers of the bed and so didn’t suspect he was under the cart. Whether they did or didn’t, they didn’t check.
Adam’s legs were screaming with pain by the time Moe finally reached his destination with the cart. He rested on his knees, massaging his knotted-up calves. Then he bent over even more, placing his cheek on the cold stone floor before slowly lifting the cloth curtain a couple of inches.
He could see the bases of several metal benches—no alien feet. Gaining confidence, he lifted the cloth a little more until he got a better view of the room he was in. It was a kitchen, and about five meters away was a small gathering of Salifens, and one Sol-Kor barking orders. Once the Sol-Kor stopped speaking, the Salifens dispersed, off to follow whatever instructions they’d been given.
The Sol-Kor supervisor bent down over a bench and began studying a small datapad. He didn’t have his back to Adam, facing sideways instead. But he was distracted.
Adam slipped out from under the cart, yet when he went to straighten up, he grimaced with pain. He inhaled sharply as the sensation slowly subsided.
Walking like an eighty-year-old, he slipped in behind the taller alien and wrapped his right arm around the creature’s thick neck. Linking his left arm with his right, he squeezed, feeling the crunch of bone and cartilage. After the deed, Adam slid the dead alien over to a dark recess in the kitchen and began to remove his clothing.
Sol-Kor on average were about seven feet in height, so after Adam put on the pants and mid-sleeve shirt, his hands were still hidden within eight inches of extra arm sleeve, and the pants were about a foot too long. He tucked the pant legs into his socks under a drop of the cuff, and then rolled the sleeves up to mid-arm. Even then, there was considerable excess in the chest and butt.
His Sol-Kor had been unarmed and without any headgear, so the disguise Adam now wore wasn’t much. But if there was thing he had working to his advantage, it was that he had a pretty good idea of where in the pyramid he was. His makeshift prison was adjacent to the Queen’s chambers on the ground floor. This placed it close to the main underground entrance. And being in a huge kitchen, there had to be delivery access somewhere, a place where trucks were coming and going.
Lifting a meter-square box from under a shelf, Adam held it along the side of his head and moved further back into the kitchen. There were other creatures here, mainly Salifens. Most of the time his face was hidden from them, but on the few occasions where the off-worlders got a good look at him, they simply went about their business without giving him a second thought.
He followed a thin line of the aliens. They were fulfilling their purpose in life—carrying things from one place to another. These were kitchen supplies and food packages, being supplied from the back of a large cargo truck.
Seeing only Salifens, Adam slipped along the side of the truck toward the cab. He glanced inside and found it empty. Then he heard voices coming from the right front side, opposite his location. There were two distinct individuals.
Still carrying the box, Adam crossed the front of the truck and came upon two Sol-Kor, discussing the paperwork on a clipboard one of them held.
They both glanced up as Adam approached, and turned back to the clipboard.
Then they hesitated, and looked up again.
What they saw next was the broadside of the box Adam was carrying. It slammed into their faces with all the force the Human could deliver, coupled with the weight of the unknown contents. The clipboard dropped to the floor as the Sol-Kor stumbled backward. Then Adam was on them. He swipe-kicked one, sending him falling to the hard deck. A stomp of a bare foot then crushed the alien’s skull. Meanwhile he used the elevated position of standing on the Sol-Kor’s head to deliver a crushing right jab to the broad nose of the other. The Sol-Kor’s face deformed
completely, its nose receding a half inch into the face. The Sol-Kor went suddenly stiff before toppling over backwards like a cut tree.
The few Salifens who witnessed the attack stopped what they were doing to watch. Although none raised the alarm, they did sense that something was out of the ordinary. Adam rushed to the back of the truck.
“Quitting time!” he yelled, grabbing two of the Salifens by their arms and pulling them from the back of the truck. “Get out.” Then he shut and latched the back doors.
In the cab, he discovered that like all the other Sol-Kor trucks he’d driven, this one also didn’t require keys. He pressed a start button and the vehicle was ready to go. He gripped the steering wheel, pressed the accelerator, and the truck moved away from the kitchen’s loading dock.
Like traffic everywhere—except on the planet Castor—the traffic on Kor followed a designated pattern. One side of the road went one way, the other side the opposite. Since it took a lot to keep a million bodies supplied, he figured the direction with the most traffic would be incoming, so he turned into the lane with the least amount, assuming this would be the way out of the pyramid.
He was right in his assumption, and soon he was in the middle of a huge spiraling highway corkscrewing down through the mountain on which the M-1 pyramid rested. The circular tunnel was dimly lit, requiring drivers to use their headlights. This helped to keep his face hidden from curious eyes, but soon the tunnel straightened out and he could see the brilliant light of Kor’s afternoon sun flooding in through a wide opening at the base of the mountain.
He would take the first exit he could find, and then work his way back toward the portal farm. Finding a unit linked to his dimension was his best chance of getting home—and letting someone on Earth know about it—before Riyad made his move. The complicating factor was that the only portals going his way were the small private ones, and they were tied to the few remaining Sol-Kor portal arrays in the Milky Way. He would be popping into a nest of hungry flesh-eating aliens.
