*
Naero woke, what she guessed was hours later in a dark, gray holding cell, sprawled naked on the warm floor with Gallan and Tarim. The ceiling was only slightly more than two meters above them. They were trapped in a cube of bare, unpainted, dark gray duranadium. No seams. No mechanisms or furniture of any kind. Not even a toilet.
No sign of a door. Only a thin, dim light bar behind thick, clear plasteel.
Are we awake? Om senses that our rest period has ended. Chemicals induced in us to cause incapacitation have been neutralized in our system.
Om. Be quiet for a short while longer. I can’t think straight if you constantly talk. Let me think for a little while without interruption.
Om will comply for now. He cannot always agree to be silent.
They’d been drugged and out of it for a handful of hours based on how rested she felt. They were on a ship, a big one by the feel of it, and by the low-level drone of its multiple engines, she guessed it was the Triaxian battleship.
Big TS-24’s, standard propulsion on most Triaxian capital ships and dreadnaughts. The signatures sounded about right.
They were on their own, surrounded by enemies, helpless prisoners deep in Corps space. She had a broken alien defensive AI linked to her brain via her genetics.
Whatever its defensive capabilities were, in a way she was somewhat glad they weren’t working, especially if it meant she and her friends all getting ripped to shreds and destroyed.
That would be bad.
She checked Gallan, then the lander boy. The healer on Tarim’s arms was almost finished. Physically, he’d be okay.
Naero assumed they were being monitored, but she continued to move around anyway. She knew Gallan was awake, remaining still in case someone came in and they got a chance to make a move.
No control bands or stun collars on any of them, yet.
Whoever had them seemed pretty sure that they weren’t going anywhere.
Good. Let them think that.
Overconfidence among their enemies was something Spacers had used to their own advantage for centuries.
Then her eyes focused and spotted the three piles of bright orange clothing, folded neatly and stacked in one corner.
She checked them. Three sizes of orange, light prisoner coveralls, most likely riddled with trackers and bugs.
She got dressed in the smallest set, and draped the other two strategically over her naked comrades.
The thin, scratchy material against her skin made Naero long for her soft, Spacer flight togs.
She still had one or two tricks up her sleeve–even without the sleeves–but she’d save them for the right moment.
They might not get a second chance.
A panel slid open behind them without warning.
Naero almost attacked immediately, but she barely caught the shimmer of a violet stun field snapping up.
Three nondescript, gray military security bots trundled in, cleared to pass right through the security field.
ST-71s, two meters high on legs with treaded feet. Hard to beat. No external weapons to take or rig.
An AI voice came from the foremost bot.
“The Spacer Naero Maeris will follow us. Keep your hands together in plain sight in front of you. Make no sudden moves. You and your friends must obey all instructions and cause no disturbances.”
“If I don’t?”
A mild stunbolt hit her immediately, barely a jolt.
“That’s the best you got?”
“Depending upon the infraction, the stun charges will grow in intensity. Do not provoke our actions. We are prepared to destroy you and your friends.”
“I’m not going anywhere until I speak to someone who passes for a human being. I’m not leaving my friends.”
The other two leveled their arm blasters at Gallan and Tarim.
“Do not make demands. You must comply. If you do not comply, we will be forced to terminate first one of your friends, and then the other.”
Tarim’s eyes suddenly popped open wide, but he remained still.
“What is your decision?” The bot asked.
Bots didn’t bluff, and these had the protocols and the equipment to back it up.
“I’ll comply,” Naero said.
The lead bot went in front of her, the other two came up behind her.
As they passed through the stunfield, it went down and then snapped back up, buzzing behind her.
They passed through another bulkhead, traveling down a secured corridor for what seemed to be about twenty meters to another heavily armored set of blast doors.
The thick doors opened of their own accord and closed behind them.
Through that was an empty section of the large military vessel. Helmeted security forces stood at attention in Corps Marine combat armor. Visors hid their faces. They wore no insignia, no identifying markings of any kind.
The bots marched her to a heavily guarded double blast door and transmitted their clearance.
The armored guards stepped aside and the thick doors swept open. Once they were inside, the doors slammed shut, sealing her in darkness.
Her eyes adjusted to the darkened chamber. The ceiling soared up at least twenty meters, and yet the walls were no more than two meters apart. The floor felt smooth and cool, polished like glass.
Then, from high up, a brilliant beam of light appeared at the other end of the chamber far ahead. Twenty more meters beyond, someone sat behind a protective energy shield at an ancient wooden desk–actual wood.
He appeared to be rubbing his hands over it.
“Proceed,” one of the bots said.
This man didn’t look Triaxian.
In fact, he wore a veil below his eyes and the attire of a Menkaran. They worked for Triax and several other Corps.
What she could see of him as she drew closer bespoke a life of power and excess. He weighed four times as much as she, or more. His hands were soft, pale, and flabby, unused to any physical labor and covered with expensive jewelry.
The energy screen went down.
The heavyset Menkaran held a soft white cloth coated with some kind of tangy-smelling oil that he buffed and polished the shining desktop with. The wooden surface gleamed like a mirror; nothing else was on it.
His amber eyes above the veil seemed slightly glazed over as if from fatigue. Then he yawned, looking more bored than tired as he continued to polish.
Naero looked around, but it was hard to see much else in the dark. The Menkaran leaned forward suddenly, into the tight beam of white light shining down onto the desk from high above.
The light struck her interrogator like a laser, breaking his face and the veil beneath his nose into sharp panes of eerie white and black stone. For an instant he didn’t even look human.
Then he undid his veil and leaned back, suspended comfortably in his gel chair. No place for her to sit.
The screen went down. The lead security bot took up a position directly behind the man. The other two kept their weapons trained on Naero.
“There must be some mistake,” Naero said. “Why am I here?”
The man stared down at his desk with lackluster interest, ignoring her.
“This is a breach of every treaty that Triax and the other Corps have with my people,” Naero added.
Her interrogator yawned again, shook his fleshy head, and didn’t even look up. “Don’t waste my time or your breath,” he said. “Both of us know very well who you are and why you are here.”
“Who are you, then?”
He grimaced and rolled his eyes and muttered something even Naero’s ears couldn’t make out. “You need a name? Use Kattryll.”
She recognized his voice already from Baeven’s blurt.
“So, Kattryll, what–”
“Shut up.” He sighed heavily. “Your parents were intercepted and destroyed by Matayan mercenaries while attempting to smuggle dangerous alien tech data through the Corps systems.”
“That’s old news,” sh
e lied.
“The data was never recovered. But they had already made several forays into the Unknown Sectors.” He pointed a thick finger at her. “We think you might be able to shed some light on its whereabouts.”
Naero shook her head and looked him right in the eye. “You’re not going to believe this,” she said, “but you know more about all of that than I do.”
Kattryll shrugged and began swiping the mirrored surface of the wood again. “No matter. Before we’re done, I’ll be entirely certain about what you know...and what you don’t know.”
Naero swallowed dry before she spoke again. “I might be tougher than you think.”
A weak laugh erupted from Kattryll. “I sure hope so, kid,” He yawned again. “That might make it a little interesting–for a while at least. But I doubt it. A lot of my subjects babble some shit like that at first. But I’ve been doing this for a very long time, and I’ve broken down just about anything with a brain.
“In reality, everyone cracks when the pain gets too bad.”
He looked up and stared right through her with his cold, lifeless eyes. “You aren’t any different, kid. Just meat, bone, and nerves.”
Kattryll smiled in a most unpleasant way.
This individual is an enemy. He intends to harm us. Activate my defensive protocols so that we may eliminate him as a threat.
Shhh…I wish I could. Be quiet, Om. Let’s listen to what he has to say and try to pump him for as much info as he’s willing to blurt out.
Strategy acceptable. Defensive protocols still offline. This is not acceptable.
Kattryll chuckled slightly. “When the time comes, little girl, you’ll tell me anything you even think I might want to know.”
He turned the soft white cloth over, and methodically continued to rub.
23