Tremaine and Pete had updated a still stunned Mason on the situation.
As far as they could tell, Mason would live, with no side effects and his memory was not damaged. They figured his excellent physical fitness also contributed to a quick recovery. He still had flash nightmares of being seared by the ember like weapon, which caused pain he could not describe. Though the swelling had subsided, the ember burn marks had permanently seared scars. He designated them his “battle tat’s.”
“Nothing in the world could prepare you for that sort of pain. Anyhow, shouldn’t Kate be back by now, it must be over the three-day deadline,” Mason stated, gingerly rubbing his still throbbing head.
Pete, sitting on the bench was lightly banging his head against the back of the wall. “Yeah, I hope she is alright.”
“I hope we are alright,” retorted an angry Tremaine.
Since they had been taken aboard the Trimadian’s vessel, they were stripped of all personal belongings, including their watches. They had calculated they had been on board the Trimadian vessel for at least four days. They had been treated reasonably and provided with water and the slushy insect like mush that was disgusting, but it nourished their bodies.
Boredom had now set in.
“You know if that woman had any sense she would hightail it back to Earth and write us off. She doesn’t owe us, and why risk her life? She got the chance to get out of here. Anyone would have taken it,” Tremaine spat out. He did not mean to say what he felt out loud, but he was feeling lousy, dirty, and above all scared.
Pete knew differently. His kinship with Kate was strong, he knew, deep down that both of them had fallen in love. The time now spent away from her had made his heart grow fonder. Oh, what a cliché, he thought. He regretted not declaring his feelings to her sooner. Was it too late? The one woman he had finally met. Had the possibility of going further now gone.
It was almost impossible trying to keep Kate off his mind, but he had spent his time over the past few days dealing with his thoughts and feelings on their chances of survival. The Trimadians would only keep them alive until they got what they wanted. He knew their priority would be to rid themselves of the Locum that were constantly attacking them, and capture rebel Cantals and any alliances for interrogation and God knows what else.
All the men had faced interrogation, well so they thought. But it was not what they had expected. No threats, no pain, only wired up to machines, and this “expensive thread bearing, dude,” as Leah had described, had briefly and silently observed them, he left and his men carried on taking readings from the machines. Bizarre was the only word to describe it.
Bored out of his mind, his thoughts did a U-turn and began picking through the hows and whys they got into this mess in the first place. Was it mere coincidence that a group of Trimadians was surrounding the BSP on Ahmadeus? Did someone alert them, or was it just the fact the Trimadians were landing and searching out the enemy in general? How did they get past the Cantals’ security scanners? Pete closed his eyes, and fell into a fitful sleep.
It was at that precise point in time, while Kate was trying to win her own battle with the powers that be and return to Ahmadeus, the Locum and Trimadians clashed. A strange noise whined into action and a vibration emitted from the ship. Something impacted with the ship, tossing the stricken men from one end of the room to the other a good half dozen times. They could hear a rapid staccato hammering that sounded like the hull was taking a beating. The noise was incredible. A faint wailing joined in the cacophony, emanating from inside the ship, probably a warning siren. Then silence, everything ceased. They estimated less than sixty seconds had passed.
Either the Trimadian foe had been destroyed, or they had retreated.
In actual fact, Pete and his team were now several hundred light years away from Ahmadeus.
“My god. What was that?” Mason mumbled, after checking himself over. His head reminded him that he was in no mood to be shaken up like a cocktail.
“An educated guess would be the Locum have arrived and engaged battle with the Trimadians?” Pete suggested shakily.
All three men were petrified, but what could they do.