Unbound Brothers

by Rob Rowntree

  “Hot stone?”

  Some gestures appear universal, the translator gesticulated and Pickering said, “It thinks we would know about it. The stone holds a hero’s body. Your hero.”

  A stone, something hot and hard, holding a hero’s body. Hard and hot, a body...? Something like a stone, maybe stone’s an analogy, hard and you can’t get into it. It has a body inside, so it’s hollow. Hard and hollow, a body...

  It hit Alan all at once: “Holy crap. It’s hot, Maslov’s ship is still hot!”

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Deaths and Designs

  Alan slept fitfully.

  Jimmy came to visit, his bent body standing tall, his eyes bright and his voice clear,

  “You have the answer; rid yourself of these worries, true freedom is never easy.” Jimmy faded, replaced by a swinging bat, spurting blood, and a caring hand. Jimmy’s slowly diminishing voice said, “It’s okay, I release you.”

  In his dream, shouting, angry voices shrieked from the hospital corridor, growing louder, more aggravated. They were very close; they broke through and Alan came abruptly awake.

  The voices belonged to Stowe and Woodland. Across the cave, ten Unbound natives were dragging Conway out. Conway’s leg looked swollen and sore. Hanging between four aliens, Conway appeared to be delirious, head lolling, eyes fixed ahead. Slamming the cage door shut on Woodland and Stowe the mob moved over to Alan’s cell.

  “Pickering, Kiki, get over by the far wall. I think they’ve come for their second interrogation.”

  Once inside the natives moved swiftly. Ignoring Alan, they pressed forward and headed towards Kiki. She screamed, kicked and fought with no success. Soon the natives whisked Conway and Kiki away. Alan allowed a brief moment of remorse to tinge his thoughts. Could he have done this differently? More safely? Yes, he could have. There could be no denying that if they’d insisted on segregating Kiki earlier, maintained surveillance on her, they wouldn’t have had half the problems they were encountering.

  He should have been more forceful with Conway. There were myriad ways in which he might have found solutions to the issues and complications outbound. Hindsight’s a bitch.

  Woodland called across, “Last night you were expounding on your sudden revelation. Maslov’s ship. While you were sleeping, I gave this notion some thought. Hot-stone, that’s what they called it, not space ship or Lander. You’re reaching Alan. It’s probably just a rock heated by volcanism or something.”

  Alan wondered, could that be right? A little maybe, but it had helped lift spirits. “I can’t get past the entombed hero. It smacks of Maslov, his resolve; we all recognised that in his broadcast. Maybe Maslov mothballed systems in an attempt to live longer.”

  “Reaching.”

  “Woodland, it’s possible, and I’m going to find out.”

  “How exactly? We don't even know where it is.”

  Stowe joined in, “Alan, he’s right. It’s flimsy at best.”

  “So you want to know how I’m going to get us there? Solid non-degradable boosters? Electronic ignition?”

  “Yes.” Woodland offered the confirmation without enthusiasm.

  “Power core is probably a triton nuclear battery, right?”

  “Get on with it already. How are you going to get us there?” Stowe’s impatient interruption echoed in the cave.

  “Gentlemen and Lady, I’m going to give them what they want.”

  ***

  Several hours later, bad news dented morale.

  A Bound native entered alongside the translator. They scurried over to Alan’s cave. After a quick exchange with the translator, Pickering said, “How? What?”

  Alan reminded, “Pickering, what’s it saying.”

  “It said, ‘Your leader is expired. We are returning the body.’”

  The translator gestured some more, and Pickering related, “His flesh turned well, but his spirit weakened and eventually fled.”

  Alan sagged. Conway was an absolute bastard and yet he had become an extension of Alan’s persona, his foil. The thought of not having Conway to rally against felt daunting.

  No. Pull out of it Abrams, come on. Nothing else left other than to carry on. He must accept Conway’s demise and move forward. He had other lives to save. Those stinking aliens were not going to beat him.

  “Pickering, did Conway have any underlying health issues, anything that may have been triggered by stress and torture?”

  “Alan, I can’t recall anything. His leg looked worse this morning, maybe they played with that.”

  Five thousand light years from home, looking for life in an empty galaxy. Where’s the harm, the worry? All these years of searching and we find not just one race, but mention of another. Ironic really, we find them and they turn out to be a bunch of psychotic paranoids looking out for their mummy, their elders. Too right, Alan thought, the universe is a cruel heartless beast ready to spit out unwanted interlopers.

  Stowe cried, the sound of her sobs pulling Alan out of his musing.

  Two Bound arrived drawing a small cart. Conway’s body rested on the bare flatbed, in death, a lump of mangled flesh.

  “Look at his leg,” Woodland sounded fascinated rather than horrified.

  Alan’s gaze roved over the body, past the wide lifeless eyes and on, down to the shattered remains of the limb. The knee wound, wrought by Kiki’s original assault, now sported large rents and hanging flesh, muscle for a guess. Below, however... Someone retched and Alan felt his own stomach dry heave. The Fibula and Tibia were exposed; fanning up from the mutilated ankle the Achilles tendon wafted in a latent breeze.

  Perhaps Conway had lost consciousness by then. Alan hoped so.

  He needed to do something; to get these. these animals to stop. “Pickering,” he said, “tell the translator that I will give the Expediters what they want. I will arrange communion with the Free. Also stipulate that there will be some conditions.”

  Watching Pickering inform the translator, Alan wondered just how far he could push his probably insane idea. The Unbound held all the cards except one and as Woodland and Stowe pointed out, Alan’s reasoning had holes. But, and it was a huge one, if Maslov’s Lander remained intact, fuelled and space worthy, he would try to escape with as many of the remaining crew as he could. Those old Landers were small though, so even if they did make it, Alan wasn’t sure how many people he could take.

  As the translator exited the cave with Alan’s message, he hoped his plan would prove sound. After all, his options were running out.

  ***

  Herded into one cell, the four remaining crew faced one of the Expediters. Alan felt sure the Unbound differed from the one he’d negotiated with previously. Tattoos and braids held similarities but also held subtle differences.

  Pickering said, “It wishes to hear your proposal.”

  Alan readied himself. He wanted to take a stand and decided to discuss another matter before pressing the requested proposal. “Why did you kill our crewmate? As a sign of goodwill, please explain why this happened.”

  Again the uncomfortable shuffle, accompanied with snorted breaths. It chattered and clicked, snorted some more. After a moment’s translation, Pickering relayed, “That one became burdensome, uninteresting. Yet it seems he provided a series of interesting discoveries regarding pain tolerance.”

  “You killed him out of boredom?” Outraged, Alan said, “Humans are thinking, feeling beings. You had no right.”

  “You are not Bound, nor Unbound and not the Free. You are not... therefore you are of little or no consequence. Present your proposal.”

  Alan felt his anger rising. These creatures deserved little respect and although they thought and obviously harboured feelings and desires of their own, they appeared either unable or unwilling to afford such notions to others. With nothing much to lose, and praying he’d everything to gain, he said, “I have decided to assist you in communion with the Free. I will do this on the understanding that you will allow my fellow crewmat
es to accompany me.”

  “Where is it you wish to go?”

  “You will take us to the Hot-Stone, and I will use it to bring forth the voice of the Free. My crewmates will scour the area for equipment that may assist me. Are these conditions acceptable?”

  “Once before my people allowed such a visit.”

  Maslov! Alan bit his lip to hide his sudden rush of elation.

  “I will consider,” the creature said.

  Alan turned to Stowe and Woodland, “Maybe my reasoning isn’t too far off base after all.”

  “Okay,” Woodland conceded. “But it’s still a long shot. If he decides we can go visit the settlement, I’ll guarantee we’ll be heavily supervised. It might be impossible to get access to the craft.”

  “It’s all we’ve got.”

  Stowe, still looking sick after Conway’s demise, said, “We have to try, even though I agree with Woodland. It’s that or nothing.”

  Pickering joined the group. “This is nice’n’cosy, but have any of you given thought to Kiki’s predicament? We haven’t seen her for hours.”

  Alan spat “I resent that. Of course I, and dare say every one of us have thought about Kiki. Especially since Conway’s death. But what do you expect me to do about it? We have to get free. That’s our priority.”

  Pickering blustered, “You could at least ask after her during your precious negotiations. It can’t harm them.”

  The translator rapped against the cell bars for their attention. It waved its gnarled hands at Pickering. “Your proposal is acceptable. We will travel to the village of your brothers later.”

  Alan responded, “And we will all be allowed to travel?”

  “Yes. We will ensure your behaviour is monitored.”

  Pickering coughed and Alan added, “Can you inform us of the condition and whereabouts of our other crewmate? You did not return her with the one that died.”

  “That one awaits the dance. The Breath of Heaven. You will witness the ritual.”

  With that the Expediter left. Alan studied his comrades’ faces and noted a reflection of his puzzled and somewhat anguished thoughts. If they had inflicted what they did on Conway, what fate awaited Kiki?

  ***

  Tied and manacled with fabric hobbles, Alan led the group out of the cave and into the main auditorium. Noise assaulted him, enveloped them.

  Ranged about the walls like waiting vultures, hundreds of Unbound perched on the ledges the crew had observed earlier. Their chattering and clicking beat into Alan, forcing a real sense of isolation upon him. This alien place, these alien, he felt... small.

  Below the chattering, lay a deep sound, almost a vibration. He searched for the source but only saw more Unbound entering over the exposed balcony.

  Breeze stirred heavy scents about the cavern and behind him, he heard Pickering stifle a retch.

  Led over to the raised perches, Alan saw that their Expediters were not in attendance. Could it be deliberate, a design meant to intimidate the humans? Alan wasn’t sure, but cringed beneath the pressure of all those alien eyes upon him. No, he’d be damned if he’d let these beings intimidate him. That’s right, Jimmy would want me to fight.

  Raising his head, he let his gaze meet those of the nearest Unbound. Unflinchingly he stared into their eyes: Several turned away.

  Woodland, bringing up the rear, said, “Saturday night at the prom.”

  Alan turned, “Woodland?”

  “One of us has been chosen to dance with the Breath of Heaven. Okay, so the humour’s misplaced. Only trying to lighten my mood.”

  “It’s okay,” Alan said. “Stare the bastards down. Go on take stab at it; it’ll make you feel better. In fact, all of us stare, right into their friggin’ eye sockets.”

  Slowly at first, but then more quickly Alan and the crew stared at the aliens. First one, then three, then five turned from them. The noise level began to drop as the idea of staring humans spread into and around the crowd, reducing their anticipation.

  “That’s right,” Woodland bellowed: “We are friggin’ humans and we won’t be beaten.”

  The auditorium grew still and silent, and for just a moment, Alan let the idea that Woodland’s defiant shout played some part in it. Air shifted behind him, something large disturbed the cavern’s atmosphere.

  The perch now held three occupants, the Expediters. Their usual finery now upgraded to braids of gold and silver, aquamarine, their tattoos aglow with new, more illuminated vibrancy. Pride? Alan wondered. Or tradition?

  About to mention this to Woodland, Alan stumbled as a rough gnarled claw shoved him in the back. He turned only to be shoved again, the action firmer this time. They obviously intended to move in the direction indicated and Alan saw a low-lying bench below the Expediters perch.

  Beneath the perch the underlying noise and vibration increased. Alan thought he recognised it. Of course, they were nearer the cavern’s balcony, nearer the gorge. Outside the wind must be howling up a storm.

  “You hear that, Alan?” Woodland had heard it too and nodded towards the gorge. “Windy as a bean fed farmer out there. Breath of Heaven.”

  “It sounds sad,” Stowe said. “Like a million lost voices.”

  Alan wanted to stay optimistic, but he couldn’t blame Stowe for her comments. The wind did sound forlorn, wanting.

  The translator arrived, gesticulated. Pickering said, “The Expediters are happy we could attend their ritual. Apparently twice a year they pay homage with offerings to the Free, a true test of belief and a vouch for their gods that they remain true.”

  “Twice a year? Hey, Woodland do you remember how we talked about the gas-torus dumping material and increasing pressure gradients, as a mechanism for generating high wind speeds. If this moon shares an intersecting orbit with that gas-cloud you could get bouts of high winds at every occasion. Perhaps these ceremonies coincide with those intersections.”

  “You can think about that crap while we are here, like this?” Pickering shook his bonds to emphasise their surroundings.

  “Keeping my mind occupied. I don’t want to dwell on our predicament.”

  The translator threw out a few gestures. Pickering said, “We must be quiet or we will be punished.”

  “Punished?” Woodland seemed incensed. “I’m rapidly reaching saturation point here.”

  Flickering light caught all their attention. From the cell-cave a small procession approached. Three Bound hauled a cart, which sported a shrouded box or cage. Unbound guarded either side of the retinue.

  Only when the new arrivals drew alongside did Alan notice the little wooden wings attached the Bound’s shoulders. To dance with the Breath of Heaven. Were they going to leap into the gorge in these high winds wearing only those small wings? They wouldn’t stand much of a chance.

  Several helpers arrived and unloaded the shrouded cargo. It looked heavy. A rhythmic clicking began and rose in intensity as others took up the call. One of the Expediters dropped from its perch and waddled over to the shroud. Grabbing the fabric, he pulled viciously. It fell away to revel a terrified Kiki in an upright cage.

  The Expediter unlocked the tiny prison, unclipped a leash and reached in, attaching it to Kiki’s neck.

  Stowe said, “Is there something in there with her?”

  “Where?” Alan stared harder, the flickering light making it difficult to discern detail. More her perhaps? Although that didn’t make sense.

  Moments later, Alan knew what troubled Stowe.

  Led like a pet on a leash, the Expediter walked Kiki down a small ramp and towards the waiting humans. She moved slowly, painfully placing one damaged foot after another, in an effort perhaps to alleviate pain from her mangled toes. Completely naked she sported bruising from head to foot.

  However, none of these injuries were as significant as the last abomination. A pair of pale, tight skinned wings adorned Kiki’s body.

  Turning her like a prize dog, the Expediter presented her to the audience. As Kiki revolved
the full horror of her condition became clear. Split from the nape of the neck to her buttocks the skin from her back had been opened and peeled away to reveal a hot bed of muscles. There were stains inside there, like small mud patches. As a final insult and to form those useless wings, they had stitched Kiki’s back-skin to her arms.

  Pickering stood, hauling Stowe, Woodland and eventually Alan to their feet. “Kiki,” Pickering began. “What have they done?”

  Alan could only stare. Powerful forces fought for control of his body and mind. He wanted to rush to Kiki, to hold and comfort her and yet, he knew that a move like that might bring the wrath of these beings upon them.

  Alan shouted at the Expediter holding Kiki’s leash. “You cannot be trusted. That woman did not deserve this.” When nothing happened he told Pickering to signal the translator and repeat his comment.

  Rather than reply immediately the creature considered Alan’s comment and then stuck his claws into Kiki’s exposed flesh. Kiki danced like a rag doll. Her breath came short and sharp, panting in an attempt to alleviate the trauma.

  Kiki’s head rose, her voice trembled, “Is this what you want Alan? Your precious meet and greet, make friends with ET. Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you.” She spoke tightly, her face a contortion of pain, but speak she did: “You see, this is all there is, a bunch of cold blooded bastards who just don’t get us. They think we are beneath them; not them. Can’t you see that this is the very thing I wanted to avoid? If this isn’t a good enough reason for not exploring, I don’t know what is.” She slumped a little, pulled up by the leash. The little speech had taken much out of her.

  “Kiki, don’t. You don’t have to justify yourself.” Alan then turned to the two-perched Expediters, “I want you to release this woman and allow us any medical equipment we might require to treat her with.”

  Waiting for their reply, Alan watched Kiki. The Expediter holding her tugged on the leash causing Kiki to stumble. She became agitated, trying her best to back away from the Unbound holding her.