Amidst tall, spider-like radio towers long tarmac areas spread, surrounding a giant dome whose panels opened like the lids of a great watching eye. The ship and its escorts were swallowed up in the dome.
Miko heard the thud of bracers as the craft made impact with an underground landing pad. The hatch was blown open and four armoured officials marched through the trail of debris to rap weapons on the zero-g glass.
With mixed feelings, Miko hit the release switch. A whoosh of air sounded as the glass slid back and the landing party swept in.
Faces thrust in on them, lethal weapons trained. “Get down!” the leader cried.
Miko knelt with hands behind his neck. Rough, gloved hands seized him. He saw the flash of white uniforms and brown knee boots, laser-proof vests and skull-capped helms.
The first official motioned to him briskly. When he saw the pools of dried blood and the litter of machine and robot parts, his frown only grew. He shook his head angrily. “Well, you’ll have a lot of explaining to do.”
Pushed nose to the ground, Miko and Fenli were rudely disarmed of their lumo sticks and their hands tied behind their backs. They secured Usk’s pincers with elasto-tape. When he struggled, a security officer tasered him. Despite his chitters, the invaders pulled them up and marched them out.
Bright lights hurt Miko’s eyes as they marched through a large covered hangar. The escort vessels powered down their engines—large Venu-craft with sleek grey hulls and tapered fins. Men were unravelling tow lines while others hurried with tools and kits to pile into their ship and strip search it.
A team hauled the Jakru tank out, men goggling and murmuring at its occupant.
Fenli cast a last longing glance at her as she was carted away. Miko could only guess that his dreams of a quick fortune had been dashed.
* * *
Needless to say, conditions did not improve. The security-custom officers escorted Fenli, Miko and Usk none too gently into separate white rooms somewhere in the complex.
Miko sat in sullen silence, his eyes glowering after his second round of interrogation.
“Name?” blurted a sergeant in grey and white uniform.
“Miko Almstran. Serial# 5439453 NAVO forces, first naval commander, as I’ve told you.”
“What’s this, your personal slave?” A glowing image shimmered before the table as he pulled a blue chip from his front pocket, the size of his thumb, and inserted it into a nearby machine. Miko, confined at the table, blinked in shame at the Jakru prisoner, who glared nervously in her upright tank in the centre of an empty white room. It was a holographic storage system, he guessed.
The Sergeant smiled and peered at Miko sharply, then at his companion, a lean, gangly man with a yellow buzz cut and gleaming buck teeth. The man wore a dog-faced, sinister grin. “You’re a little out of date, ‘Miko’. It’s called ‘New Order Alliance’. It’s been relegated to the ice planet, Winterule, for quite a few decades now.”
Miko’s mouth went slack. He writhed in his bonds, wrists looped behind his chair. “What year is this?” he murmured.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” the Sergeant said. His thin lips twisted, as he puzzled over Miko’s dazed reaction, snorting out a hot breath.
The Sergeant had a badger beard. His short-sleeved military grey uniform was decked with stripes below the shoulder, stun weapon and truncheon strapped at his hip.
“What’s your game, soldier? Are you doped up on Beslamine?”
Miko’s lips pursed.
“Taking a few pals and some aliens out on a joy ride?” The Sergeant laughed. “I know the scenario. It gets out of hand, you get a bit blasted and creative. That woman with the horns though, she sure is a piece of ass. I’d have her confined too. All for my own. But in a bottle, with other freaks not far away? A bit kinky, don’t you think? What’s the game, you do her, then you do the squids and turtles next?”
The Sergeant’s attendant croaked out a lewd laugh. “You never asked the Commander how he gets her to breathe underwater.”
The Sergeant waved off his friend’s quip. He pulled the blue chip out of the panel and the woman and tank disappeared back into the machine.
Miko grew red in the face. The grilling continued relentlessly—the focus ever returning to the tanks.
“So, what are these freaks in the tanks? A little appetizer after you and your friend Fegri, have your way with the girl?”
Miko snarled angrily. “It’s as I say! They use them for food.”
“Right, like this lobster-cricket fellow of yours is your best buddy.”
“It makes no sense,” his assistant griped stupidly as if used to the benevolent inquisitor routine.
Miko pinched his eyes shut. “He was a rogue rebel of some kind, and they, the locusts, had him caged—”
“Right, so you rescue the locust and he’s suddenly your wing commander. What about this Audra creature you mumbled about earlier?”
Miko stayed sullenly quiet.
“This story of yours gets more farfetched every telling,” the Sergeant growled. He turned resolutely to his mate. “What do you think, Buldis? Should we turn him over to the thought extractor? We got ourselves a real live one here.”
Buldis smiled his toothy smile. “The stories we got from his cabin mate are even better. Doozies, if nothing more. He claims you’re taking the woman to sell to a free agent, the highest bidder. Was that your idea?”
“He’s a rotten liar!” Miko spat.
“Now, now,” tsked the duty Sergeant, wagging a finger. “Not very nice to speak of your comrades like that. And it’s Sergeant Salhan to you.”
“Well, what about this Audra?” piped up the yellow-headed interrogator. “I’d like to meet this gal. She sounds like my type.”
“Go right ahead, you idiot.” Miko fixed him with a searing glare. “I’m sure she’ll be here before long.
The
