Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

Once again, Arsa Veranda awoke to find herself in the dark, images streaking past her at the speed of light. No! Her mind wailed. Those are my memories, you can’t take them away from me! You bastard, those are mine! She could not remember who was doing this to her, but she knew that someone was changing her, trying to make her into something that she was not. She flailed her fists into the darkness, wishing that she could lash out at whoever was doing this to her. One of her fists seemed to pass through an image, her entire hand glowing for a brief moment, then Veranda was plunged into darkness once more.

The darkness around her slowly began to recede, a dim light coming into focus. Veranda groggily realized that she was lying on a bed, feeling the weight of blankets on top of her. She clumsily pushed the blankets off, shakily rolling from the bed to her feet. She padded across the soft carpet, stumbling into the small bathroom next to the bedroom.

Veranda could feel her stomach churning, its contents rapidly rising to her throat. She dropped down next to the toilet, vomiting for nearly a minute until her throat was raw. Easing herself to her feet, Veranda staggered to the sink, splashing cold water on her face as she tried to remember what had brought her to this state.

The last night had been a blur, but she could remember that she and a group of friends had gone off campus to a local pub. Her last coherent memory involved the four sophomores and a bottle of tequila, after that everything was fuzzy. Veranda heard the holophone ring, the sound multiplied a thousand times by her hangover, but she didn’t have the strength to go answer the call. Instead, she groped in her medicine cabinet for something to help ease the pain in her head. The holophone finally stopped ringing, activating the automated messenger. “Arsa, where are you?” Veranda heard a familiar voice ask. “The biology final starts in five minutes!”

“Oh, shit!” Veranda moaned. She sprinted into the bedroom of her apartment to find her books, throwing her biology textbook and a notebook into her bag. She dashed back into the bathroom, quickly checking herself in the mirror. She stopped, seeing her ghastly reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were completely bloodshot, her hair was in long black tangles that would take hours to straighten, and her shirt was stained with vomit and any number of mysterious liquors ingested the night before. She ran a hand over her greasy hair to smooth it as best she could, she was already going to be late for the exam, so there was no time for make-up to conceal the bags under her eyes.

She was about to dash away from the mirror, but stopped herself. What the hell am I doing? She wondered. The test is in five minutes and I haven’t attended a single lecture this semester, and it feels like the marching band is playing the fight song in my brain, how can I pass the exam? Tears stained Veranda’s bloodshot eyes as she sank down to the bathroom floor. What am I doing? She asked herself again. Everyone worked so hard to get me here, so that I could make something of myself, and I’ve just been throwing it away with drinking and partying. I wanted to make everyone proud, but instead I’ve done nothing but fail their trust in me. Why? Why did I let things come to this?

Veranda wiped the tears from her eyes, pushing herself up the bathroom wall until she was standing. In two years at Oxford University, Veranda had not enjoyed a single class, changing her major three different times. She slowly began to understand that she had turned to alcohol and wild parties to escape the misery she felt. She was not going to college for herself, but to satisfy the expectations of her parents and foster parents. At no time had she asked what she wanted, what would make her happy.

Veranda stumbled into the bedroom, seeing her new life sitting on the nightstand. Someone had been handing pamphlets out at the restaurants on campus, Veranda had taken one, but not really thought about it, until now. Sitting on the edge of her bed, Veranda read through the pamphlet, determination starting to form in her mind. She tossed the pamphlet on the bed, then started pulling clothes out of her closet. There’s nothing here for me, she thought bitterly. Stuffing her clothes into a suitcase, Veranda thought back to when she had been a child, living in Africa with her natural parents. She remembered looking up at the twinkling stars, wishing that she could be up there with them. Maybe there’s a way to make everyone proud of me, and to make myself happy, Veranda thought, casting another glance at the pamphlet on her bed. Finishing with her hurried packing, Veranda checked to see how much money she had left. She counted the wadded bills left from last night’s binge, there was barely enough to get to London. Emptying her backpack of school supplies, Veranda filled it with her few personal belongings before leaving her apartment behind. She hastily scrawled a note to her friends, which she placed under the door with her keys.

It was an hour on a bus to London, then another two hours to find the Alliance military recruitment center. There was a recruitment center at Oxford, but Veranda knew the people who worked there and did not want them to know about what she was doing. Better that I explain this to strangers, she thought. Walking into the small recruitment office, Veranda saw an Alliance lieutenant at a small desk. “Can I help you?” The female lieutenant asked.

“I want to enlist,” Veranda said simply.

Eyeing Veranda’s suitcase and backpack, the lieutenant said, “We don’t accept runaways, if there is some kind of problem at home…”

“I’m not a runaway, I’m twenty years old, that’s old enough to make these kind of decisions for myself.”

The lieutenant was a little taken aback, but nodded at Veranda. “I’ll need you to fill out a form to give us your personal information, take a brief skills test, and then submit to a drug screen.” The lieutenant handed Veranda a compad, then motioned her towards a table in the corner. Veranda sat down on the rickety wooden chair, stowing her luggage against the wall. It took her nearly three hours to complete the form and exam. She finally handed the compad back to the lieutenant, who briefly looked over the contents. “While I grade this, you can go into the next room and I’ll have someone get some readings.”

Veranda started towards the adjoining room, but the room seemed to spin as she took a step, steadying herself against the wall, Veranda felt the lieutenant’s hands on her shoulders. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine, I just had a little too much to drink last night, I’ll be all right,” Veranda waved the lieutenant away, stumbling into a tiny room that contained only a stool and a counter of medical supplies. Everything seemed to be getting darker and darker, the room fading from view, until Veranda was left in the darkness once again.

Her entire body suddenly erupted into violent spasms, her entire world reduced to only the intense pain coursing through her. She saw her skin start to change color and texture through the haze of torment and tried to will herself to stop the hideous transformation, but it could not be stayed. Gradually the pain sudsided, until she was left flexing clawed, four-fingered hands before orange, reptilian eyes.

She could feel a familiar presence, an almost-voice calling out to her. Frantically, she lashed out with her hands, trying to strike the alien presence to stop its insistent whispering. I’ll kill you! She raged. Get out of my head!

As if it were responding to her, Veranda could feel the alien presence fading from her mind. The whispering voice was replaced by strange images appearing before Veranda, streaking past her outstretched hands, until one brushed against her right hand, setting it aglow. Veranda screamed as she was plunged back into pure darkness, then opened her eyes slowly to a large, gray room.

“Your trainer tells me that you have reached the point of maturation, but what I have found is that while many hatchlings shed their skins to become juveniles in appearance, they are not still not mature enough to survive training. So consider this a test,” Veranda heard a voice growl in her ear. Before Veranda could try to get to her feet again, she was kicked in the ribs once again.

Without thinking, Veranda lashed out with her left foot, sweeping it around to trip her attacker. She felt something heavy fall on top of her, heaving it off before getting to her feet. As she did, she saw that she was in a small room of gray metal walls, an alien in red armor stirring at her feet. She gasped as she held alien hands up to her face. Before she could wonder what was happening, the alien got to its feet and punched Veranda squarely in the face. Veranda slammed against the wall, spots forming before her eyes as she slid down the wall to the floor. The alien stood over her, wiping blood from its lip. “You dare to strike a superior officer?” The alien roared, smashing Veranda in the chest with his fist. “You, who are barely even a juvenile would challenge me?” The alien hit Veranda again, this time in the face. Veranda felt blood in her mouth, spitting it out, she rose to her feet.

She stared into the alien’s eyes for a moment, then lunged forward. She pinned the alien against the wall, unleashing a barrage of punches to the alien’s face. The alien withstood the punishment, then kicked Veranda in her midsection, upending her. Veranda staggered back to her feet, but the alien motioned for her to stop. “Very good, S’Amleng. There are many who would meekly take the punishment, but you fought back, even if you did not fight well. I will authorize your transfer to a warrior training unit. In time, you will become a warrior, S’Amleng, or you will die,” the alien said, leaving the room.

Veranda pounded the walls furiously, rage coursing through her until she sank wearily to her knees. “What have you done to me?” She screamed before finally passing out from the pain of the damage inflicted by the alien warrior.

***

The dark sky was beginning to turn to lighter shades of gray, the first light of morning barely puncturing the brush around Davis and Thornton as they stopped to rest for a moment, Thornton keeping a wary eye on the alien they had found. The alien had regained consciousness only an hour earlier, and seemed to be following the two humans as though in a daze.

“So where are we?” Thornton asked.

“Well, since there aren’t any satellites in orbit I can’t get you exact coordinates, but I think we’ve got another day or two before we reach the mountains,” Davis replied. He pushed back some of the brush until he could see the massive gray expanse of an ocean below the steep walls of the bluff he was standing on. He had heard the roar of waves crashing into the shore, but he had not realized that he was so close to the ocean until now. “If we stay close to the water we’ll come across the mountains eventually.”

“That’s very comforting,” Thornton remarked tartly, rubbing her tired feet. The alien seemed to be watching her with great interest, staring at her feet curiously. “What’s its problem?”

Davis shrugged, “It probably hasn’t seen human feet, just like we hadn’t ever seen alien feet until they attacked us.”

Thornton stretched her left leg out, wiggling her toes only inches before the alien’s eyes. “How do you like them?” She taunted the alien before pulling her foot back and covering it up with a sock and boot. The alien continued to stay at her dully until Thornton snapped, “Go stare at something else for a while!”

The alien backed off, its eyes turning to the vegetation around it. Davis shook his head, “You know, we need something to call it.”

“You want to name the alien?” Thornton asked skeptically.

“It’s better than saying, ‘Hey You!’ all the time.”

Thornton rolled her eyes, squatting down in front of the alien. “Hey, what’s your name?” She asked. The alien stared at her blankly, growling something incoherently. “I guess it can’t speak English anymore.”

“Maybe it just doesn’t want to talk to you,” Davis replied.

Thornton shrugged, then tapped herself on the chest. “Laurie.” She pointed to Davis, saying, “Alex.” Finally, she put a finger on the alien’s chest. The alien continued to stare stupidly at her, but when she repeated the procedure it seemed to understand. “Laurie, Alex…”

“S’Amleng,” the alien blurted out.

Thornton nodded, tapping herself once again. “Laurie. Alex. S’Am…” Thornton stopped, finding that she could not replicate the alien syllables. “Laurie. Alex. Sam.” She said the last name, with her finger on the alien’s chest.

“Sam,” S’Amleng repeated.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Davis breathed. Before the conversation could go any further, a shot hit the ground between Davis and S’Amleng. Turning, Davis could see a half-dozen black-armored aliens emerging from the brush. “Get to cover!” He shouted to Thornton. Thornton roughly shoved S’Amleng into the brush, Davis followed behind them, weaving to avoid being hit by a shot from one of the alien warriors.

Davis dove into the brush, rolling to hide himself behind a rock. He could see Thornton to his right, using a tree for cover, S’Amleng moaning in pain next to her, his body racked with spasms.

“Is he hit?” Davis asked, a shot whizzing over his head. Thornton shook her head, looking around helplessly for a weapon, but there was nothing that would be of any help around her. She saw S’Amleng sit up and gasped when she saw that his eyes had once again changed to brown mammalian eyes, the eyes blazing with fury. S’Amleng silently rose to his feet then charged forward, taking the six alien soldiers by surprise.

S’Amleng knocked one soldier to the ground, taking its weapon and using it as a club, he smashed the soldier in the head until it stopped moving. Before the others could shoot him, S’Amleng sprung atop another soldier, tearing off its helmet and pounding it furiously with his fists. One of the alien soldiers was about to line up S’Amleng for a shot to the head, but Davis fired a shot into the alien’s neck, killing it before it could shoot. S’Amleng grabbed another alien by the joints in the side of his armor, tossing the alien through the brush and over the bluff into the ocean as though the soldier were a rag doll. Without looking, S’Amleng lashed out with a spin kick, the blow landing squarely in the chest of one of the remaining soldiers. At the same time, S’Amleng’s tail slashed the remaining warrior in the face, before he wheeled back around and kicked the warrior in the jaw. Before either alien could recover, S’Amleng grabbed each by the neck, hurling them over the bluff, their screams fading to leave a heavy silence.

S’Amleng stared helplessly at Thornton and Davis for a moment, his entire body quivering with rage. “What have you done to me?” He screamed in English, tears coursing down his face until he sank to his knees. With a final tormented scream of pain, S’Amleng collapsed unconscious onto the ground, his body falling across a corpse.

Davis looked over at Thornton, who was down on her knees, sobbing and vomiting onto the ground. Davis nervously approached S’Amleng, carefully rolling the alien off of the dead body. Blood was splattered on S’Amleng’s body, but it was not from any wound. Davis left S’Amleng where he lay, quickly gathering weapons and equipment from the dead alien soldiers. Thornton finally appeared from the brush, carefully looking away from the carnage S’Amleng had wrought.

Davis handed her the weapons and supplies he had taken, saying quietly, “You take this stuff, I’ll carry him.” Thornton nodded, still dazed by the viciousness with which S’Amleng had killed the alien patrol. Davis knelt down beside S’Amleng, slinging one of the alien’s arms over his uninjured shoulder. Davis grunted as he got to his feet, S’Amleng’s unconscious body feeling like it weighed a ton. “Let’s go,” Davis said, dragging S’Amleng slowly beside him. Thornton took up the other side, thinking of how S’Amleng had been peacefully staring at her one moment, then exploding into a violent rage in the next. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, or if she could ever trust the alien again.

***

Laurants sat facing one of the transparent walls that gave him a view of almost the entire city of Telle. The sky was almost completely black, save for the glow of lights from the various buildings in the city. Laurants had seen many of the largest cities on Earth, but none had the breathtaking, almost organic look of the Rygan metropolis. The lights, while adding to the beauty, reminded Laurants of the emptiness of Telle. Millions of people used to live in the city, filling its streets at all hours, but now the streets were empty, only three beings left to gaze at the wonders of the place. Thinking back to what Lothgamm had said about the Rygans, it was hard to imagine that a people who built such a beautiful city could be wiped out by their own hands.

Lothgamm had left two hours ago, not telling Laurants or Shaw where he was going, only ordering both humans to stay where they were until he called for them. Laurants thought of what it must be like for the old Rygan to watch his race die out, to carry the burden of being the last and knowing that with his demise, the Rygan people were dead forever. Is this what will happen to Earth if we don’t stop the S’Parnians? Laurants wondered. Would the great cities of Earth soon lie as dormant as Telle, some lonely survivor gazing upon the ruins and knowing that the end was soon at hand?

Laurants’s dreary thoughts were shattered as the door opened. He saw Shaw enter, her smile quickly drowning his gloomy mood. “You couldn’t sleep either?” She asked.

Laurants shook his head, “I guess I’m too keyed up to sleep. It’s only a couple of hours before who knows how many aliens will come down here and try to finish us off, I wanted to enjoy what might be my last hours of life.”

Shaw took a seat beside Laurants, motioning towards the city. “This is such a beautiful place. The air is clean, there’s no noise, the weather is always perfect; I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather spend my final days.”

There was silence for a few moments, Laurants gathering the courage to begin, “There’s been something that has been bothering me throughout this entire mission, and with maybe only a few hours left, now is as good of time as any to ask, although you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

Shaw turned to face him, her expression turning serious. “What is it?”

“Why did you pick me for this mission? Was it some kind of punishment for what happened aboard the training ship?”

Shaw stood up, pacing as she contemplated her response. She finally turned to Laurants, nodding to him. “I could tell you that crew selection was my prerogative, that I don’t have to tell you anything, but,” Shaw added before Laurants could interrupt, “I think you deserve an explanation.”

“I first heard about the incident on the training ship from an Alliance dispatch, initially I was appalled by what happened, until I checked with a friend in Command and heard the entire story. After that, I had a feeling that here was a very special person who had what it took to become a great Alliance officer, so I did some homework on you to confirm my hunch.”

“I dug into the archives and watched dozens of Academy hockey games to learn more about what kind of person you were. Even though I know nothing of the sport, I could see that not only were you a very gifted athlete, but also a leader as well. In every game I watched, I saw how you would take brutal punishment in order to help your teammates score, how you would stand up for your fellow Alliance players to opponents and officials, and how you never gave up, no matter how much your team was down by. Those were all qualities that I wanted in my crew, because those are the qualities of true leaders.”

“On the training ship, and again on the bridge of the Explorer, you demonstrated that you will one day be a great Alliance captain. I’ve seen my share of people who think that leadership means simply ordering people around, that being a leader is based solely on rank. In reality, being a leader means doing the right thing even in difficult situations. You demonstrated that ability on the ice, on the training ship, and on the Explorer.”

Shaw stopped, wiping tears from her eyes. “I chose you because I saw the kind of person you are, the person that I have grown to love.” Laurants, feeling numb from the shock, jumped to his feet, taking her in his arms.

“I love you too,” he whispered. Their lips met, the passion of the moment embracing them. Without a word, Shaw tossed away her uniform jacket, Laurants following suit until their unclothed bodies eased onto the floor.

For Laurants it was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He felt closer to Shaw than he ever had with any other woman. There was something he could not describe, some kind of magic between them that made him wish they could be together forever. There was nothing hurried, nothing insincere, only the pure joy from two souls coming together as one.

Lothgamm squinted, allowing his eyes to adjust to the bright light as the lift doors opened to an enormous cavern. At the far end of the cavern, its surface glinting dimly in the faint light, Lothgamm’s old ship waited. The vessel seemed to sense his approach, extending a gray boarding tube across the expanse of the cavern to the Rygan. Lothgamm waited patiently for the tube to come to a stop, then stepped inside, blue lights casting a dull glow throughout the tube. The tube started to retreat back to the ship, Lothgamm feeling the familiar anticipation of boarding the starship, a feeling he had not felt in decades. The tube ended in an airlock on the side of the ship, the airlock recognizing him instantly and beginning to cycle. The Rygan waited for the airlock to cycle, then stepped through the hatch into a set of white corridors that led him to an oval-shaped room packed with computers and technology beyond anything human designers could fathom.

Sitting at one computer, Lothgamm placed a finger into an outlet, feeling a charge run through his body as the computer activated and interfaced with him. In a matter of seconds the computer ran through hundreds of commands, the terminals in the room suddenly coming to life. Finally, after another minute, Lothgamm took his finger from the outlet, feeling weak for a moment as his body disengaged from its telepathic link to the computer. Looking around the room, Lothgamm mumbled, “It won’t be long now, my old friend.”

Lothgamm went the way he had come, emerging onto one of the city’s main streets. He could sense that the S’Parnians were close and knew that the time was almost at hand. It was a moment he had prepared for over the past thirty years, a moment that he had hoped would not be necessary, but it was apparent that it would be.

Reaching out to locate the two humans, Lothgamm nearly lost his footing, the power of their emotions coming close to overwhelming him. Without seeing what they were doing, he knew what the humans were up to, shaking his head sadly. “She cannot be yours Jack, a greater destiny awaits her,” he whispered to himself, knowing that there was nothing he could say to Laurants to steer the young ensign away from pursuing his relationship with Shaw. What is fated to happen will happen, Lothgamm thought, trying to focus on the coming battle.

***

Rosaro awoke to a bright light shining in her eyes. Her vision was blurred at first, but as it came into focus, she could see the smaller of the two aliens who had interrogated her come into the room. The alien took her face in its hands, applying some kind of solution to the dried blood on her face. “What are you doing?” Rosaro asked hoarsely, her throat dry since she had been given no food or water the entire time aboard the alien ship.

“S’Olonny does not want you to be half-dead when he fights you, so I am repairing the damage that the brute did to your face. I would have liked to interrogate you myself, to pry the information from your mind, but now that will never happen.” Dabbing at Rosaro’s cheek roughly, S’Tallen finished his work. He motioned to a pair of guards outside the door, the guards removing Rosaro’s restraints, dragging her to her feet. “The duel will take place in a cargo bay emptied for this reason and will be broadcast to the entire crew of this vessel as well as your companions in captivity.”

Whatever the alien had applied to her face, it had made the entire left side numb, so that she could not reply to S’Tallen’s comments. The guards slapped restraints onto her hands, one staying ahead and the other behind as she was marched towards the cargo bay where the fight was to be held. It seemed like an endless maze of corridors, Rosaro’s mind racing for some way out, some way to avoid a duel she knew she would lose, but she could find no way out. Her options finally ran down to zero as the door to the cargo bay opened, the guards taking off Rosaro’s restraints, then shoving her through the door.

S’Olonny stood in the center of the darkened cargo bay, patiently waiting for her to approach. Taking a deep breath, Rosaro strode to where S’Olonny waited, trying to hide her fear from the alien warrior. S’Olonny growled something, then handed Rosaro a sheathed sword and belt. S’Tallen’s voice boomed from some hidden speaker, “The weapon he gives you is the S’Zai, the weapon used by S’Parnian warriors for generations in battle. When the signal is given, you will draw your blade and the fight will begin.”

Rosaro strapped the belt around her waist, taking a few paces back away from S’Olonny. Her hand rested against the cool hilt of the S’Zai, waiting to free it from its sheath. S’Olonny nodded to her, then made a chopping motion with his right hand. The lights in the cargo bay dimmed so that Rosaro could only see the hulking alien warrior. “Draw!” S’Tallen shouted. Rosaro quickly took the blade from its sheath, surprised by how light the sword was. She took it in two hands, glancing for a moment at the long blue crystal blade of the S’Zai.

Swordfighting had been taught only as part of the basic hand-to-hand combat drills Rosaro had learned fifteen years ago, since then she had not seen any blade longer than six inches in combat. She had used knives in her youth with the Mexico City street gang she had run with, and had used a knife often enough in combat, but that was far removed from going up against an experienced master of the sword like S’Olonny. Stretching back in her memory, Rosaro could remember the defensive position her instructor had showed her and his only advice. “Stay back and wait for an opening to attack, let the opponent wear himself down, then strike back when he is weak.”

It was advice that was hard to follow as S’Olonny’s first swing struck Rosaro’s blade like a clap of thunder. Rosaro fought to keep her grip on the sword, edging backwards to give herself more room. S’Olonny sensed his opponent’s hesitation, charging forward with his blade held high to rattle her. At the last moment, S’Olonny swung the blade to the left side, trying to strike Rosaro’s exposed flank, but the human was just quick enough to deflect the blow.

In the tiny room holding the other human captives, Cromwell shouted, “This isn’t fair! Manny doesn’t know how to swordfight! She’s going to be killed!”

“Just like the rest of us,” Klein murmured under his breath. The initial cheers for Rosaro had quickly worn off when it became apparent just how badly outclassed she was. The humans watched Rosaro give more and more ground, narrowly parrying S’Olonny’s forceful strikes. As the one-sided duel continued, some of the humans turned away, not wanting to watch Rosaro’s end.

Rosaro felt the tip of the blade just nick her left thigh, but she ignored the pain, weakly swinging her own blade, which was easily blocked by S’Olonny. She could see that the alien warrior was not tiring, if anything he was becoming stronger while she was barely able to lift her own blade. Sweat poured out of every pore, stinging her eyes, but she did not have the luxury of time to wipe it away. Instead, she took another step back, ceding more of the cargo bay to S’Olonny and leaving herself with very little room left.

Scanning the cargo bay, Rosaro tried to find some way of escape before S’Olonny overpowered her. Fighting off another blow, she saw a stack of cargo crates piled against the wall in preparation for the duel. Even in the dim light, she could make out some kind of vent just above the crates. She had no idea if the vent would lead anywhere, but it was better than waiting for S’Olonny to finish her off.

Planting her feet, Rosaro deliberately left her guard open, guessing that S’Olonny would see the opening and try to take advantage. Her hunch turned out to be correct, the alien warrior put all of his weight into a killing blow aimed at her open side. The green blade whistled through the air, but just as it was about to slice into Rosaro’s midsection, she dropped to the floor. The momentum from the mighty swing turned S’Olonny around, although he quickly rebounded, assuming a defensive stance to block a blow that never came. He howled in rage as he watched Rosaro tear across the cargo bay, her S’Zai sheathed as she scrambled up the pile of crates.

“Coward!” S’Olonny screamed, running as fast as he could to catch up, but Rosaro was too quick for him. She reached the top of the pile then pulled her S’Zai, using its blade to slice the vent open. S’Olonny saw her make a gesture with the middle finger of her free hand, then disappear into the vent.

S’Olonny tried to follow, but as he reached the top of the pile, it was obvious he was too large to fit into the vent. “Where does this go?” S’Olonny shouted into his communicator.

“It looks like it is in the primary ventilation system, which runs the length of the ship,” S’Segar replied.

“Can we seal the system off?”

“We can isolate the areas closest to you, but the creature may not even be in the shafts by now.”

“Search the entire ship! I want this coward found and brought to me so that I may finish what I have started!” S’Olonny climbed down from the crates, storming out of the cargo bay. Wherever you have gone to, I will find you, S’Olonny thought angrily.

On the bridge, S’Segar shifted nervously, wondering if his commander had gone mad. “I am sending teams through the entire ship, scanning the interior of the ship for any sign of her.”

“Good, contact me the moment there is a sighting.” S’Olonny cut off the transmission, tapping an access code to gain entrance to one of the ship’s maintenance tunnels. The tunnels, running the length of the collection vessel, allowed repair crews to easily access the interior systems of the ship. Getting down onto all fours, S’Olonny began to crawl through the tunnel, thoughts of vengeance burning in his mind. I will find this coward, then I will slay it.

The vent had turned out to be some kind of air shaft that appeared to be Rosaro’s ticket to freedom. That was until she ran into a metal screen sealing off the shaft. Struggling to free her S’Zai, Rosaro tried to cut the grate open, but it refused to yield to the crystalline blade. Sighing, Rosaro sheathed the sword, then doubled back to an intersection in the shaft, looking for some way out. Although she was not certain where the other humans were being held in relation to the cargo bay, she had to try to free the others.

Continuing her crawl down the shaft, Rosaro stopped, hearing the clanking of many armored footsteps below her. She held her breath, trying not to make a sound that might give away her position. She heard the footsteps diminish into the distance, then frantically resumed her way down the ventilation shaft. There has to be somewhere I can exit without anyone noticing me, she thought, but looking ahead she could see no sign of another grate that might allow her to make her way out. Cursing to herself, Rosaro kept going.

S’Olonny stopped his crawl through the maintenance tunnel as his communicator beeped. “What is it?” He demanded.

“We have located it, sir,” S’Segar announced happily.

“Where?”

“In the ventilation shaft, Section 143.”

S’Olonny made a mental note of the location, scratching his chin in thought. “Excellent. I want to steer it into Storage. Make certain to open only those barriers to allow it to find its way there. Is that undertood?”

“Sir, are we not risking damage to the storage tanks and equipment?”

“Never mind that! Do as you are ordered!” S’Olonny terminated the connection, pushing himself forward. When his enemy found its way to the storage chamber, he would be waiting, then he would finish what he had started.

Another dead end, Rosaro thought angrily, turning back the way she had come. She stopped at an intersection in the shaft, taking a moment to think things through. She had already tested the S’Zai blade against the walls of the shaft, there was no way to make her own hole, so she would have to find an opening somewhere. Feeling like a lab rat in a maze, Rosaro tried another shaft, which she followed until it ended at another intersection. Two of the four ducts in the intersection were closed off, giving Rosaro only one option.

She crawled along the shaft, a nervous feeling in her stomach as she went. It almost seemed like someone was trying to steer her along, leaving open only those barriers that would shepherd her to where she was supposed to go. Unable to do anything but wait in the shafts until she was found, Rosaro could see no real alternative. Maybe she was being herded along, or maybe it was just her imagination.

Her long crawl through the ventilation shafts finally ended when she located a grate just like the one that she had entered through. Maneuvering her S’Zai in position, Rosaro sliced through the grate, clearing just enough room for her to slide through. She emerged on a narrow ledge overlooking a cavernous room. A tangled maze of cables and pipes snaked down to five hourglass-shaped containers, two of the seven-story containers were completely full of a clear liquid, their surfaces shimmering with rainbow-colored light while the remaining three containers appeared to be empty.

Rosaro studied the tangled web of pipes and cables, looking for some route of escape. She saw catwalks surrounding the midsection of each of the tanks, following the catwalks with her eyes, she spotted a series of doors around the chamber. One of those is my ticket out of here, she thought. Now all she had to do was find a way to navigate the pipes and cables down to one of the catwalks below.

Rosaro grabbed a thick black cable, carefully moving hand-over-hand along the cable, trying not to look down at the nothingness that seemed to descend into infinity. The soles of her boots finally scraped against something hard, glancing down, she could see that it was an olive-colored pipe. Keeping her hands on the cable, Rosaro walked the length of the pipe, pausing to find a way down to the catwalk.

While she tested the various cables around her to see which would hold her weight, she felt the pipe vibrate beneath her feet, threatening to throw her off of the tube. Before Rosaro could turn, blinding pain lanced through both of her legs, then the appendages went completely numb. Rosaro reached up, holding onto the cable over her head for dear life, but something grabbed her from behind, pulling her free from her lifeline and holding her in the open air. She dangled over the abyss for several long moments, then was turned around to face the alien warrior she had fought the duel against.

S’Olonny’s eyes burned with the fire of a thousand suns, the small nostrils on his face blowing out air like a raging bull about to charge. The maintenance tunnels had led him right into the upper area of the storage chamber, where he had found the vermin scurrying along the bio-energy pipes, looking for some way to flee his vengeance. It was only now that he wished that he had learned more of the barbarian tongue from S’Tallen, if only so that he could let the creature know just what he was going to do to its comrades now.

Rosaro stared in terror at S’Olonny’s face, her head starting to spin when she saw that his green S’Zai blade was coated with her blood. Craning her neck slightly, she could see where he had hamstrung her with the blade, so that even if she could find some way to escape his grasp, there was no way for her to flee. Never before had she felt so helpless, so completely impotent, unable to save herself or her friends.

For several horrible moments, Rosaro only stared into S’Olonny’s orange eyes, hoping for some sign of redemption, some flicker of mercy, but his eyes had turned as cold as the surface of Pluto. S’Olonny drew Rosaro close, his eyes boring into her soul with nothing but hatred. “Die,” he hissed, hurling Rosaro from the pipe.

Rosaro screamed as she flailed in the air, desperately looking for some way to stop her fall, but there was nothing around her. She looked down, seeing the bottom of one of the tanks approaching her quickly. Her screaming stopped, an almost tranquil feeling settling over her. Watching the glowing surface of the tank approach, Rosaro spent the last moments of her life thinking of the friends and family she would soon meet on the other side. Slamming into the tank at well over a hundred miles per hour, Rosaro was killed on impact.

S’Olonny turned away after seeing Rosaro’s broken body lying on the surface of the tank, climbing up the pipes until he found the maintenance tunnel he had entered through. The dishonorable worm had not given S’Olonny the information he wanted, which meant he would have to find another. This time, there will be no games, he thought. These creatures are below contempt, they will give me what I want or die. Activating his communicator, S’Olonny growled, “Send a repair crew to the Number 3 tank to clean up the mess before the bio-energy supply is tainted by its cowardice.” No matter how many more of them have to die, they will tell me what I want to know.