by Pj Belanger
They literally pounced on him, dragging him to the ground.
“I give up,” he muttered first in Federation words then he stumbled on the words with their own language. Using his ear translator, he made sure he sounded as if he knew just a little of their Bothian language. They hauled him up but not without first kicking him hard.
“Check him,” one of the creatures told his comrades which they did, frisking him very roughly. He felt their hard claws through their hands or paws, whatever one called their doglike fingers.
It didn’t take them long to find his identification tags. They handed his tags to what seemed like their commander. His yellow eyes looked at the identification and he talked animatedly into his communicator attached to his uniform collar. As the Bothian listened his eyes became wide. The leader looked at his prisoner, now scrutinizing him from top to bottom.
“Bring him,” he ordered his soldiers. “Be careful, he’s important. Tie him up securely.” Markus was relieved that he understood every word. His translator was working!
They actually tied him to one of the gigantic guns. Not long after, the sound of a helicopter came from above. At least twelve heavily armed Bothian soldiers jumped down and Markus was physically carried and thrown into the copter. He hit the floor with a thump, bumping his head. He worried that the escape instruments would fall out of his hair but to his relief, the hidden tools stayed put.
He was placed near the cockpit and could hear the pilots talking. They were discussing with Bothian Command where to bring their prisoner. If Markus understood correctly, he was being brought to Hades Island. He sighed with relief. The copters were bringing him right to where he wanted to go.
Markus estimated they’d been flying for about an hour, when the copter started skimming along the shore of the Policit Ocean, the biggest body of water on the planet. The flight started to go over the water and away from the shore. A small island finally came into view. So that is Hades Island, entered his head. It matched the images that he’d been shown of an isolated island about 25 miles off the coast. A rocky shore circled the entire island. It dismayed him to wonder how they’d get off the island to meet up with the rescue boat.
He saw several buildings and a small airstrip that the helicopter started to circle. His eyes traced a dirt road that led from the compound to a small dock area. As they turned to land, he caught a glimpse of a small beach near the far end of island. His thoughts soared as he took note of it – aha, perhaps he could use this area to escape. Although he only got a glimpse, at least it was something.
Several blue furry figures were at the landing strip. The copter landed and several Bothians again carried him to one of the buildings with the heavily armed greeting group following close behind. They threw him roughly onto the plush carpeted floor of a large office. The room was opulently decorated. In the center of the office was a beautiful large banyan wood desk, carved in ornate swirls with matching cushioned chairs. The walls were covered in portraits of important army dressed Bothians. The blue/yellow Bothia flag stood in one corner.
Behind the desk was a bulky dog figure that scared the hell out of him despite him being prepared for their sizeable appearance. The superior actually growled at him, sharp teeth gleaming. Waving his four arms forcefully, the commander then spoke in broken Federation language, seemingly to temper his tone, “Well, Doctor Mase, welcome to your new home. If you cooperate with your other associates you’ll be allowed to live. If not, we will most gladly kill you, s-l-o-w-l-y. Do you understand?”
He meekly nodded, slouching down in a defeatist way. “DO YOU UNDERSTAND?” The commander literally barked it.
“Yes, yes, I understand!” he forcefully said, letting fear enter his voice.
“Good,” it nodded to the soldiers that stood Markus up, making sure to hold tightly on to him. “Take this vermin to the lab. Then find Morkel and have him get the prisoner prepared.”
They saluted the canine and then dragged Markus down a hall, then outside and headed toward a shabby looking outbuilding. Once more they brought him to a side door, they again threw him, this time on a concrete floor. He slid across, feeling the burns on his arms as he scraped the rough surface. The Curthian made it seem like he was having trouble getting up, as if they’d really hurt him.
The soldiers actually laughed, “Humans are so weak,” came through his translator. “It will be a pleasure to kill them. It will be amusing to see how they die.”
Two of the captured scientists came over and helped him stand. Markus faltered, having them catch him, so he could softly say in their ears, “Please don’t give me away.”
They looked questioningly at him and said nothing about him but instead pointed their words at the canines. “You’re interrupting our work,” one of the men told the Bothians. “If you want results then get out!”
Marcus noticed one of the soldiers had a translator around his collar. The doglike creature came over and pointed his gun at the scientist’s forehead, “You better get results, human, or we’ll fry your brain.” He then stepped back and went out with his fellow soldiers following him.
“Thank you for not saying anything,” Markus began but the man put his fingers to his lips and pointed to under the laboratory’s long table. When the Curthian looked he saw the auditory bug attached to the counter's bottom. So, they are registering everything that was being said. He straightened and said, “Glad to see you again, Ned, although I wish it was under better circumstances. Our damn army helicopter crashed and the Bothians captured me. Back at Fort Ludin, we have been wondering how you were. Now I’m in the same boat as the rest of you.”
His eyes took in the seven scientists. They stood before him with very few clothes on. The men had tiny underwear. The one female scientist was the same except she had a skimpy bra. All seven were shaved bald. He tried not to gawk but he couldn’t help it. The seven scientists looked malnourished; their ribs were easily seen.
“They want to make sure we can’t hide anything,” the scientist he recognized as Ben Coste told him. “They also have a revulsion for us having any hair on our bodies.”
“But they are covered in fur, grant you blue fur, but nevertheless they have plenty of hair!” Markus was shocked.
“Maybe it’s to make sure we don’t resemble them in any way,” the woman scientist Shana Litenis the only woman, expounded. “You’ll be meeting with a dog called Morkel. He shaves us once a week.”
Markus felt nauseated, the Bothians were barbarians. He scrutinized the lab. Several long tables with a variety of electronic equipment and several computer terminals were set up. The Curthian couldn’t see any place to hide his screwdriver and army knife.
“They don’t give us much,” Cofflin Mcabe waved his arms as if to emphasize his point. “They check every night, including frisking us.”
Markus looked around seeing two doors. The first one he opened was a tiny bunkhouse with plain cots put against the sides - no pillows or blankets. There was no place to hide his tools. The next door was just a simple bathroom. A small porcelain sink and a toilet were the only things in the room. He crossed to the toilet. Taking the back off the commode, he placed his two tools in the water. Given the Bothian’s aversion to water, he felt his escape instruments were safely hidden. Hopefully, he’d be using them shortly anyway.
When he joined the others, Cofflin and Shana started singing loudly. Ben motioned him over, talking softly. “We all take turns singing so we can talk. Pretend we are looking over this computer screen, they have a tendency to come walking in unannounced.” He looked around cautiously, “Who are you?”
“Federation Command sent me to rescue you. Unfortunately, we only have a few days before they bomb this island to smithereens. We need to escape soon, they’ll have rescue boats off shore.”
“There is no escaping,” Ben shook his head. “Besides the jungle being completely infested with unbearable insects that would eat us alive with no clothes, the Bothians have also covered the shores with glass shard
s. Just in case you haven’t noticed we have no shoes to protect us.”
“Leave the escape to me,” Markus patted the scientist’s bone thin arm. “I’ll worry about us getting out of here. I’ll just need you to cover for me and do exactly what I tell you to do. I’ll let you explain to the others.”
“I feel sorry that you’ve wasted your life trying to save us,” Ben sadly informed the Curthian. “They have this island tied up tightly. You’ll soon see.”
As if the doggish creatures had been called, two soldiers barged in grabbing Markus. He heard Shana sob as they dragged him out. Ben was comforting her. “Get to work,” one of the soldiers yelled back, “or nothing to eat today!”
Markus couldn’t even get his feet under him, as they dragged him outside to another third building. He looked around the best he could as his feet dragged on a fine gravel yard. There seemed to be five buildings that surrounded a large courtyard. The scientists were being held in the shabbiest one. The building he was brought into was better constructed and seemed almost like an infirmary with whitewashed walls. At the end of the hall, he was shoved into what looked almost like a doctor’s office with a long metal table gracing the center. Harsh fluorescent lights hung from the tiled ceiling panels. The floor was white cement
