Tristan swung his legs round and sat facing them on a bench opposite the others in the room. They watched him with their round human like eyes. The female stopped crying and turned towards him as well. He made a quick assessment. From their sorry state the other occupants of the room would not be a threat to him. He leaned back on the bench against the cold hard metal of the wall and shut his eyes.
Things were not going well! Aesia had vanished; there was no longer a presence he could sense. He swallowed; he had become used to Aesia being there, and now a part of him was missing. He was surprised to realise that he missed her presence so much. He wondered where she had gone. He let his mind drift and explore. He could hear the many minds of the Sicceians, but he could not sense Aesia.
He remembered she had been hiding something, was this it? Had she intended to betray him all along? This was obviously a holding cell. She had assured him he would be treated fairly, sent home if he wanted. Was that going to happen? If she were on the ship she would be working to put things right but she had left. His stomach knotted; that can’t be it, surely?
He put the thought of her and the void she left in a corner of his mind. He was locked in a cell of an alien vessel with other alien prisoners, far from home and no help from any quarter. He may well soon be fighting for his life.
He brought his attention back to the room. The other occupants were regarding him silently. He said “Hello” in English, then thought better of it and said, “Hello, my name is Tristan,” in Aesia’s language.
One of the males said. “Hello. I am Da’ren. I have never seen anyone like you before. Have your people been conquered by them as well?” He nodded his head at the closed door.
Tristan frowned. “No.”
Da’ren shrugged. “Only a matter of time.”
Tristan asked him what he meant. The Mylian told Tristan the Sicceians looked on other races with contempt. As far as they were concerned, anyone not a Sicceian was a lower form of life to be used as slaves, or worse.
The Mylians were a peaceful people who were just starting to explore their own solar system when the Sicceians found them. The Sicceians overran their world and used them as slaves. After being under their cruel yoke for several hundred years, the Mylians managed to rebel and fight back. They had regained their world while the Sicceians were occupied fighting another alien race they had found at the edge of their space. The new aliens closely matched the Sicceians in technology and power, and things had gone badly for the Sicceians for a while. It was during this time that the Mylians managed to break away. They had been left in peace for over 50 years but knew that the Sicceians would be back one day.
The Sicceians eventually won the war and took revenge by systematically wiping out all trace of their defeated enemy. During this time, Da’ren’s people had been preparing for the inevitable attack. The Sicceians would certainly not allow former slaves any freedom. The initial confrontations went well for the Mylians, but the tide was turning, and the Sicceians were gaining the upper hand.
Da’ren and his crew were on a supply trip to one of their colony worlds when a Sicceian fleet had attacked them. They were taken prisoner and were being questioned and tortured. The Sicceians thought they were on a spying mission. Two of his crew had already been tortured, shot and killed. Just as he was finishing his story, the door opened and another female was pushed in. She fell immediately, the door closed, and the others rushed over to her. She was covered in blood and one of her eyes had been gouged out.
Tristan was shocked. If what Da’ren had told him was true these Sicceian’s were the galaxy’s version of the Nazis. His mouth went dry and he tried to swallow. He loved one of them. They had shared everything for months, joined in body and mind. Had she abandoned him? Had she manipulated him, just played him, used him to get back safely to her people. No! It was not possible. Icy fingers gripped his heart. He looked round, the evidence was before him and she was gone.
“Da’ren, what would happen to a Sicceian who found a new resource rich planet?”
“Oh, they would be well rewarded. Rich beyond their wildest dreams.”
Tristan’s stomach churned. He stood and punched the featureless wall with clenched fists. “You gullible fucking idiot, Tristan!” The Mylians cowered from his anger. He sat down, his mind sinking into his own private hell.
The cell door opened two guards stood either side of an officer. She pointed at Tristan, and the two burly guards stepped round her. One drew a pistol. “Stand up.” Tristan ignored him. The guard hit him on the face with the pistol butt. Pain pulled Tristan from the pit of his despair. He touched his cheek then regarded his bloody fingers.
“Stand up!” The guard repeated raising his pistol for another blow. Tristan stood. “Now Stand Still,” The other guard carrying a pole with a loop on the end commanded. Tristan faced the guard with the pistol. “Stand still, animal!” He smashed the pistol into the side of Tristan’s face for a second time. Tristan staggered, and the pain exploded in his head. He gritted his teeth, the warm cloying taste of blood in his mouth. He stood still, fists clenched. The guard with the pole forced the loop over Tristan’s head and pulled it tight. The wire cut into his neck. His breath caught, eyes bulging. Tristan fell to his knees.
His vision blurring, Tristan looked up as the guard eased the tension on the wire. The female Sicceian stood with a smile playing on the corners of her mouth. “Bring it.”
The wire tightened, forcing Tristan to his feet, and the one holding the gun clamped his wrists with cuffs. He was pulled out of the cell and across a corridor to a small room with two chairs facing one another across a plain white table. The guard forced him to sit on one of the chairs, clipping the pole to something behind the chair Tristan could not see. The wire held him securely.
The officer sat on the edge of the table opposite him, her blue eyes boring into him. She leaned forward, the smile still playing around her lips. Tristan caught a faint smell of the same scent as Aesia. His chest tightened, stomach twisted into a knot. He glowered at the officer.
“So what are you?” her voice soft and friendly.
Tristan said nothing, holding her stare in silence. Her smile broadened. She moved quickly, hitting him hard where the guard had hit him with the gun. The pain swept across his face, forcing him against the wire noose. It took a few seconds for his vision to clear. He blinked, his eyes watering. She had returned to her relaxed position on the edge of the table. “What are you?” His mouth filling with blood he spat, red splatters ran down her leg.
He grinned at her. “Oops, need to get that cleaned.”
She glanced at the red mess on her uniform, and turning her neon blue eyes on him she made a hissing sound between clenched teeth. She hit him twice, both sides of his face. Tristan clenched his bloody jaw.
He stared directly into her eyes. “Fuck you!”
She leant forward grasping his chin in her hand. “Oh, so you will fight me? Wonderful! Those animals in the cell with you are no fun. You are different, I am going to really enjoy this.” As she spoke, pain gradually increased in his fingers. With her other hand she twisted his fingers back, further and further. She giggled. “Oh so much more fun and if you refuse to cooporate I get to use a mind probe,” she sighed. “It has been a long time since I used one of those”
He could sense her telepathic abilities, her arrogance and superiority. Anger and pain cursed through his blood like molten fire. He held his breath, forcing his pain forward at her unsuspecting mind. Her eyes widened in shock, her smile became fixed on her face.
“You - No it’s not possible.” Her shield crumbled easily against the hot fire of his anger. Tristan felt his face ache from the blows, the ache increased as he pushed her personality aside, squeezing and twisting. He had control. Her mind opened to him like a blossoming flower, fleeting thoughts, emotions, images of inflicting pain, cruelty and… fear.
The sensation of control reminded him of accessing Aesia’s computers, but more intricate. H
e forced her to hold rigid, fighting the scream rising in her throat. Facing the fear and horror flooding her mind, Tristan held her. A concerned voice came from behind him.
“Sir?” One of the guards.
Tristan’s mind raced. Gritting his teeth he made her move her head. He could see beads of sweat forming on her brow as she fought against him. He mouthed the words silently, forcing her to speak. Her voice was little more than a croak.
“Take this thing back to its, cell I don’t feel well.”
“Yes Sir.”
Tristan felt the pole being released from behind the chair, the tension on the wire noose pulling him to his feet. What now? As soon as I release her it is all over. Turning away from her would cause him to lose his grip. Her mind was twisting against his, dread and panic filling her consciousness. Desperation gripped him like an iron hand squeezing his chest. He lashed out against her, ripping her thoughts, emotions, her very essence apart. She sighed, eyes rolling, her knees crumpled. Her head hit the table as she fell.
The second guard rushed over to her. “Take that thing back to the cell then come back and help me here.”
Tristan felt nausea rising to his throat. He fought against it, trying not to gag, swallowing it back. Get me back quickly.
The guard pulled him round and pushed him across the corridor to the cell. He opened the door and, releasing the wire nose and his cuffs, forced Tristan forward. He hit him hard between the shoulder blades. Tristan staggered and sunk to his knees. He gulped back against the contents of his stomach heaving its way up his throat. He heard the door slide shut with a click. He could hold it no longer he reached the toilet projecting from the wall moments before the sickness took him.
It was several minutes before he regained control. He had been retching up nothing, his stomach empty. Rocking back on his heals he ran a trembling hand through his matted hair. What did I do? She might have been evil and cruel, but did she deserve that? He knew he had destroyed her, ripping her very essence from her body. He shuddered, fighting the returning nausea. He looked round, his companions were all huddled against the opposite wall watching him. He stood, made his way over to the furthest bench from them and sat down with a shudder.
A hatch in the cell door suddenly opened and a tray of food and water pushed through the gap. Tristan ignored it.
The Mylians helped the injured female to one of the benches and gave her some water. They then shared out the food. The one who had spoken, Da’ren, offered some to Tristan with shaking hands. The taste and texture caused him to gag, but he ate it anyway as he did not know when the next mealtime would be.
A short time later the lights went out, and they were left with the faint glow from one of the light fittings in the ceiling. Tristan remained sitting in the far corner away from the others so he could think. He could hear the groans of the tortured woman and the occasional sobs of the other. He was a prisoner of Aesia’s people. She had gone leaving an emptiness in his heart and mind. The aliens he was locked up with were being cruelly tortured and killed. Although he could not sense anything directly from them, he knew he was being told the truth about Aesia’s people. He had seen everything in the officer’s mind. He shuddered.
He set his jaw, and his body trembled. If he couldn’t get at Aesia for betraying him he would make her people pay. First he had to get away before they linked the sudden death of his interrogator to him. If Aesia had been able to convince them of his telepathic abilities it could happen at any time. At least their arrogance was on his side. It would be almost impossible for them to think an animal such as him had the capability to control and destroy them.
He had no idea at all where Earth was so he would go with these people if he were able to, and when they were safe, he would search for a way home.
Tristan looked round the gloomy room, the Mylians obviously a little afraid of this strange angry alien as they remained at the far end of the cell, as far away from him as possible in the confined space.
Tristan shut his eyes for a moment. Did Aesia know how to get to Earth? Where they even as he sat there planning an invasion? “Oh God, what have I done?”
He had to get away, find Earth and warn them. He opened his eyes and turned towards the Mylians. “Are you prepared and ready to escape if the chance arose.” They glanced at one another then back to him. All except for the injured female nodded.
“What are you going to do?” Da’ren’s voice trembled as he spoke. “You do know it’s not possible to escape from a Sicceian ship? Their telepathic communication and control of their system makes getting away impossible.” His companions nodded in agreement.
Tristan’s eyes glittered in the dim light as he regarded them with an icy stare. “If it were possible, could you navigate your way home. Yes or no, Da’ren?”
Da’ren trembled under Tristan’s steady gaze. “Yes, but..”
Tristan cut him short with a brisk wave of his hand. “Quiet!”
He stood and cast around with his mind. He sensed the ship’s computer, but it was far more sophisticated than the one that had been fitted to Aesia’s craft or the navigation beacon. The number of crew members necessitated a logon code before it would allow connection. Tristan pushed against it. System safeguards buckled without much effort. Tristan smiled. He had access to the main ship’s computer, their security protocols being non-existent. They had not designed the computer to guard against enemies with telepathic capabilities.
He moved to the door. The release mechanism was controlled by a separate computer, a simple ancillary system. The Sicceians were confident no other species had their telepathic ability so it was impossible for anyone but a Sicceian to even open a door. He had that ability, and he knew now he was stronger than they were.
The interrogators mind had lain open to him before he ripped it asunder. He shivered at the memory his stomach heaved. Swallowing, trying to calm his twisting emotions. He cast his mind out searching, but there was no one nearby to discover them.
Tristan commanded the computer to open the door. The door slid open and the Mylians gasped, but recovered quickly and came up behind him. Da’ren started to ask how he had made that happen, but Tristan motioned him to silence. Sweat glistened on his brow as he forced access to the main system, carefully bypassing the user ID protocols. He was in! He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
“Come on, follow me.” He had located a shuttle bay not too far away. The computer had given him the directions.
They cautiously exited the room and proceeded down the corridor. He opened his mind and tried to listen for any Sicceians that may be coming their way as they crept forward. He felt something. There were two guards walking down the corridor from the left. In less than thirty seconds they would be discovered. Tristan looked round for somewhere to hide. It was the worst possible place to be caught. There was nowhere for them to go. Tristan cursed under his breath. The guards would be on them within seconds and their escape would be short-lived. In desperation, with clenched teeth hands balled into fists he lashed out with his mind, mentally hitting them as hard as he could. He felt their thoughts, memories, almost their very essence. He withdrew, ripping and pulling viciously at their consciousness as he did so. It had been hard and fast. His stomach knotted, but he had not lingered long enough to suffer the nausea of the first time.
They heard the guards fall just as they rounded the corner. The two guards were lying in the corridor, their bodies twitching. Tristan was shocked to see there was blood seeping from their ears and noses, foam on their lips as they convulsed silently and died. He heard gasps behind him. The Mylians looked at Tristan in awe while he bent down and took the guards’ guns. One he kept and the other he handed to Da’ren.
Fear showed in their faces. Tristan wondered if it were fear of him rather than of discovery.
They passed a bulkhead and turned right down another corridor. After a short while they came to the docking bay. There were several small ships on the deck. They ducked in thro
ugh the wide hatch. His gaze swept the area, his mind ready for discovery. He held his breath, ready to destroy any mind that became alert to them. Nothing, they hid behind a pile of storage crates.
Tristan turned to Da’ren and hissed, “Quickly, which ship would best suit our escape?”
Da’ren hesitated for a moment eyes looking over the assembled ships. “That one.” He had chosen a small, fast freighter, with the main hatch open and the access ramp down. Keeping close to the wall, they moved round towards it.
There were several technicians in the area working on two of the small ships. Tristan was not sure he could handle all of them at once. He thought quickly. Any second they would be discovered. He motioned to Da’ren and quietly whispered for him and his comrades to take out the technicians working on the closest ship. They nodded. Tristan lashed out with his mind at the furthest technicians. They crumpled and lay twitching on the deck. The remaining technicians spun round, alarmed, but it was too late; the Mylians were upon them. They were swiftly dispatched. Tristan bolted for the ship Da’ren had selected, closely followed by the Mylians carrying the injured female between them.
Tristan ran up the ramp, half expecting to deal with more Sicceians. He found the ship empty. “Da’ren, you can fly this?”
“Yes, if the computer control system is disabled, otherwise no. It manages everything and requires telepathic control.”
“Right, you take the pilots seat, Da’ren, the rest of you find yourselves seats.” Tristan sat on the right of the pilot seat, noticing the others had not moved. Once he sat, they all selected seats avoiding the one next to him.
He accessed the computer, bypassing any restrictions easily. He smiled to himself, he was getting stronger. A warning voice in his head whispered now don’t be getting cocky, Tristan! The ship had been fully fuelled and ready to go. He removed the computer interlocks and set the system to manual control. “OK, Da’ren you have full manual control of the ship, please get us out of here.”
Guardian Awakening Page 10
