“You are not warning anyone,” she said. And she hit his face with the stump of her arm and he fell to the floor. Dazed, his eyes refocused on the round illuminators attached to the high ceiling that had just begun to glow. Morning was coming, and so were the Bakanhe Grana.
Escape
Aboard the Federation Warship Persephony
2 days left
The holding cells inside the Persephony were dirty white, each with a clear energy wall facing the hallway, and a bank of lights running between. Most were empty, though Jolo could occasionally hear a sad, scratchy old voice, out of tune, singing a song he remembered his men had sung during some war that his former self had fought in.
There was no night in space, but the lights went off all the same for eight hours each day. Jolo had counted the lights going out nine times since they’d been hauled into the little box with three flat bunks that pulled out of the wall and a hole in the center to do their business. It reminded him of the cell on Sol when he first made it back. This time he had company, but he thought maybe it would have been better to be alone.
Greeley paced off four steps, touching the wall as he went, then turned and paced another four, then repeated the process, stepping around and sometimes over his cell mates. It was just enough space to drive a person mad. Greeley mumbled in anger as he walked, though occasionally coherent words popped out. “No escape plan. No escape plan.” He’d repeat this little mantra in time with each step. Finally Jolo would get pissed.
“I got us on board. I got us in front of that scumbag Filcher. Mission accomplished.”
“Yeah. But with no escape plan. Give me a gun and let me die fighting. This is no way to go. I just can’t believe you had no clue about how to escape this giant, Fed shitboat.”
“I didn’t think we’d need to escape. And I didn’t see you coming up with any contingency plans.”
“Well, maybe I should’ve.”
“Stop it!” yelled Barth, sitting on the floor next to the energy field wall.
He gently probed the boundary of the energy field, a thin green spark of electricity arcing over to his thick alacyte fingers. Each time he touched the wall a whiff of smoke rose up and with it a burning smell like melted electrical wire. Jolo wondered exactly what was getting fried each time the old engineer stuck that black arm in.
“That’s just gonna get you killed,” said Jolo. “You of all people know exactly how these cells are made.”
“Yes, and that’s why I am exactly the person to come up with something,” said Barth.
“The only way out is if they try to move us. We fight our way free,” said Jolo.
Greeley stopped pacing. “What’ll make ‘em move us? Gimme one of those little, smooth-faced, green bastards. Hell, I’ll take two out before one a those wussies even gets a shot off.” He was standing in the center of the tiny cell now, his chest out and fists balled, the muscles in his arms bulging.
Suddenly Filcher appeared, alone, on the other side of the energy field. It was like looking at someone through a thin wall of water, his blue uniform slightly distorted. His voice was a little off as well, like he was farther away, even though only a few meters separated them. Greeley ran towards the wall but Jolo put out his hand to stop him. “Let us out you yellow, worm lovin’ little bitch!” Greeley spit out his words. He went on for awhile longer, until he was out of breath. Jolo put a hand on his shoulder.
“Soon,” said Filcher. “I’m waiting for rendezvous coordinates. We’ll be heading out to the fringe to protect the survivors.”
“So you’re going tuck tail and run while the human race is obliterated?” said Jolo.
“No.” He fiddled with the top button on his jacket. “I’m saving those that can be saved. I’m saving you.”
“What about my people on Duval?” yelled Jolo.
“They will run if they are smart. The core will be taken.”
“The core will be taken? We’re led by cowards and fools!” screamed Barth.
“Realists!” said Filcher. “Do the math! Even you, Captain Vargas, who always jumped in head first without a plan, can see that we can’t stand against the black bast—” Filch stopped, glanced up at a tiny light on the ceiling, then continued in a lower voice. “…against the Bakhane Grana. They will help advance human civilization with their superior culture and intellect.”
……
There were screams from the room next door. Katy sat on the cold concrete floor and put her hands over her ears but the muffled, gurgling, gagging moans from the next room bored into her head. She tried to go to another place in her mind, so she imagined the blackness of space, wished herself piloting the Argossy, and she could hear her thrusters roaring when they burned, but then another desperate wail shattered the illusion and she was sitting again on the dirty floor. Katy, Merthon, and two locals that were helping with the move had been rounded up and thrown into one of the small bays alongside the main hangar. They were lucky to still be alive, she had seen the
