A Bellicose Dance Read online

  "Of course, Tarvok, but it seems we are more successful at keeping them alive if they remain together in groups."

  "As Tarvok, I authorize all decisions on this ship. I have stated all prisoners go into the tubes." He viciously slammed the monitor off. The long persistent screen revealed an ugly truth, an exposed scowl of hate on Kitohk’s face.

  Zorlog laughed hollowly as he refocused his attention on the survey teams’ reports. The raids had fared well. Each of the reconnaissance ships had returned full. This planet is worth pulling into the Empire for the slave resources alone.

  Again a monitor sprang to life, this time lit with the face of one of his better officers, 3rd Level Ankov Gulin. The Xilozak carried the features of satisfaction.

  "Ankov Gulin reporting, Tarvok!"

  "Ankov, my time is valuable," retorted Zorlog.

  "My Tarvok, we have obtained a total of one hundred and seventy-three slaves. Unfortunately, there are five defectives."

  "Defectives?"

  "Two were damaged during loading, Tarvok. I would not be surprised to see them die within the radii. The other three seem to be suffering from one affliction or another. They have been separated from the rest of the stock and are ready for extermination. Upon your order, my Tarvok."

  "Put the officers in charge of their capture on outer hull maintenance. They should learn to pick the stock properly. Are there any females in the group?"

  "Yes, one... seems to be in a state of shock."

  "Keep it, kill the others and discard them immediately, that is all."

  "Very good, Tarvok."

  Zorlog sat back and laughed out loud, still feeling very pleased with himself. He was the first to reach this planet. The first to acquire the natives. Only he was daring enough to venture this far out beyond the advancing line. Once he registered his find, he would have the first claim rights, and if the slaves turn out to be resilient enough, he would become very rich indeed.

  * * *

  The silence ended with a metallic squeal. A circular crack of light appeared above Ryan as the door swung open. He dashed up the incline, heaved at the door with all his strength and jumped out into the corridor.

  A dark shape came for him, he dodged and turned. His eyes were still fighting to adjust to the light as he sized up his foe.

  The creature was anthropoid: four arms, two legs, and stood erect. Its head carried large round, circular eyes, each containing thousands of tiny individual prisms that glowed crimson hues. A pair of mandibles jutted out and around where its cheeks should be, hiding large razor sharp teeth.

  Insects – bloody overgrown insects.

  But it wasn't alone. There were two of them. The other held, suspended like a rag doll in its eight-fingered claw, a young woman shaking in fear. The thing's fingers were biting into her arm so hard they were drawing blood. Her face was pale white, eyes wide, lower lip trembling.

  They were all watching him, awaiting his next actions. What should he do?

  He stepped back and bumped up against something else, something solid. He turned to find himself staring into yellow reptilian eyes. It was another alien, but much different than its insect brothers. Like the others, it was anthropoid, but with the features similar to a lizard. Its oversized muscular legs and thick arms seemed out of proportion with the rest of its body. It wore a dark gray suit that looked somewhat like leather. This one carried a bright metal insignia on its chest, a possible mark of rank.

  The lizard’s mouth jutted outward just barely pronounced enough to be considered a snout. It seemed to be smiling at him, revealing alternating rows of sharp white teeth. Ryan could feel its hot, rancid breath upon his face.

  He backed away, toward the wall.

  The lizard pulled out a meter-long bar and began swinging it in lazy circles. A sharpened edge caught the light, glinting menacingly. Instead of advancing, it stepped back down the corridor, and motioned to him with the fingers of its hand, a mocking tooth-filled grin pasted upon its grotesque features.

  He knew what it wanted. It wanted him to attack. It was taunting him. He’d give him a surprise. Time to utilize all those years of martial arts training.

  Ryan gauged the distance from the woman and made his decision. He feinted toward the lizard, quickly turned, ran, jumped, and kicked the insect square in the face. The thing squealed in pain and let go of the woman. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her down the corridor, retreating away from the lizard.

  A glance down the dimly lit hallway forced him to stop. Dozens more of the insect things were racing down on them. He scanned the walls for some other escape route.

  Only one way out of this.

  He turned around, holding up the woman who was now leaning heavily upon him. He could feel her trembling under his grip.

  The lizard put away its weapon, waved its now empty hand slowly in the air.

  Should he try it?

  He leaned the woman up against the wall as gently as he could. Her features were lost in the dark, buried in shadow and hair, but they locked eyes for a moment.

  "I’ll take on this thing," he yelled. "When you see a chance, run!"

  He rushed the lizard, shoving it back against the wall with all of his power. It hit hard but was not even stunned. Ryan caught the full force of a closed reptilian fist, and he literally flew back against the opposite wall, his lungs emptied of breath.

  Fuck, this thing is strong.

  The lizard moved in, swinging a muscle-bound arm once more into his midsection. More ribs snapped, engulfing his chest in unimaginable agony. For a brief second, everything went black. He regained his senses on his knees, lungs aching to recover oxygen, pain searing through his body. He looked up to see the face of his attacker. It seemed even more ferocious than before, its face lit with a savage appetite. Cries came from down the corridor. The woman had been seized by another insect creature. He could see their silhouette, see a spindly arm raise and lower in a vicious strike.

  No way out - came a voice from the back of his mind.

  "What are you?" he asked, gasping out the words.

  The beast only growled, pulled back and swung the deadly bar at Ryan's face. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. He tried desperately, but could not make his body move fast enough to avoid the weapon's path. He saw the light reflect off its razor edge, now just askew, watched it connected just above his eyes. The hostile reality disappeared, leaving only the distant sound of a woman's scream ringing in his ears.

  * * *

  Zorlog's usual hideous grimace hid his disgust for the Txtians, who could not hold a few measly humans at bay.

  "You two are weaker than a day-old Xilozak."

  They cowered back from their Tarvok with a healthy respect. The Txtian that had been hit by Ryan clicked and squealed in pain as its colleague attempted to help it down the corridor. The others had already collected around the two slaves.

  "Spray them down and throw the male and female back in the tube," ordered Zorlog. "You!" he yelled at the retreating Txtians. "Get the ship's doctor down here to fix up this one. It has more courage than all of you put together.”

  The Txtians looked at each other, although none dared respond.

  “What are you waiting for!" he blasted. "Get moving, or you will all be working molten lead on Zeghad!"

  * * *

  Ryan was running, running through a thick jungle of steel, concrete, and glass, past walls of white glittering bone. His breath was raspy, his lungs screaming for air, burning like fire within his chest. He felt his legs weaken, failing him as his muscles moved slower and slower. He tried to navigate past deep, blood-red bottomless pools. Pools he knew would suck him down if he fell into them. It was coming up behind him. He glanced back and saw it, chirping insanely as it approached, half-lizard, half-insect, hunting him. He told his body to move faster, but his legs could no longer respond. He slowed to a hobbling stagger, then fell, frantically crawling, trying to pull himself away from the thing. It was on top of him no
w, its hot, rancid breath on the back of his neck. He turned and saw the mandibles, razor sharp, dripping with saliva, clicking incessantly. He was motionless, unable to move as its jaws clenched into him.

  The young woman knew he was dreaming again. She swabbed the sweat and blood from his eyes, trying hard not to touch the wound on his forehead, using the last clean part of her dress.

  Keep the wound clean. Control the infection. Remember your training.

  She watched over him every waking hour, feeding him the food and water rations that were tossed down into the tube. They had been pulled out only once since the incident. A Xilozak officer had come to seem them. She suspected he was a doctor. He had cleaned and disinfected the man's wound, all the time grumbling something about ‘damaged stock’ under his breath as he worked. He glanced over at her and somehow interpreted her concern, then hissed gruffly in Trinarieit, "This male will probably die. It is up to him to fight. Only his will to live will save him.”

  “Here." He handed her a small gray bottle. "Apply this on the wound, and give him water regularly." He turned abruptly and left. Again, they were shoved down into the tube.

  In the darkness, she no longer had any sense of time, so she relied on the one and only source of regularity: when the hatch opened, and the food and water were tossed down. At each interval, she applied the medicine.

  She found comfort in talking to the man, even though she knew he couldn't hear her, nor understand her. She talked softly, coaxing him not to give up, to return back to the living, back to her, so she would not be alone. She told him about her family, her home, fleeting memories of her past. It was a way to stay calm, to stay sane. Every once in a while the man would jerk in her arms. His breathing was raspy and shallow. Sweat poured off his body as the fever burned on. He was battling for his life. Despite her efforts, the wound was infected. The medicine seemed to be helping, but she couldn’t tell for sure. But it wasn’t enough. It didn’t last.

  His health took a turn for the worst, temperature climbing and body convulsing followed by sessions of delirious yelling. She nursed him through it, pouring her own rations of water over his lips, praying as an act of self-reassurance that he would make it, that he would not die. But things did not get better for far too long. She had lost all but the smallest glimmer of hope when things finally changed. The man’s breathing slowed and his temperature started to drop back down to normal. His fever had finally broke.

  He might survive after all.

  She collapsed in exhaustion, sleeping soundly for the first time in many uncounted, unknown days.

  * * *

  Ryan awoke feeling like he was suffocating. The woman lay beside him, her legs wrapped around his, her arms draped around his chest weighing far too heavily on ribs that were aflame in pain. She was so close to him that he could hear the pounding of her heart.

  He must be in his apartment. Maybe he had a party. The girl? He didn’t remember her - yet. It was all a nightmare after all.

  He opened his eyes to blackness and panicked. For a moment he couldn't catch his breath. His senses sharpened. Familiar rancid smells.

  No, this was no dream. Back in the hole, again.

  She stirred beside him.

  Was it her he had tried to save?

  He could feel the reassuring rhythm of her breathing. Feel her soft breath on his chest. It was comforting.

  The pain he could take. Her closeness kept him warm, contrary to the cold metal surface, and he was so tired. In a moment he had faded back into a deep sleep.

  The dreams came again. Strange, twisted imagery, fearful visions full of monstrous creatures with slit eyes. They replayed variations of his final moments of consciousness, his frantic effort to escape, the glint of steel, the sharp incomprehensible pain as the blunt metal weapon sliced into his forehead.

  "Can you hear me?"

  A murmur. A soft, gentle voice.

  "Can you hear me?"

  A strange accent, he couldn’t quite place it.

  He opened his eyes, again to intense blackness. He could feel her beside him, warm, soft skin, her aroma a sweet smell that cut through the stench.

  "It's alright. Stay calm."

  Her hand was on his face, soft, gentle.

  "Who are you? Where are we? Do you know where we are?"

  "My name is Aviore - Aviore Tem Enova."

  "Are we still in the hole? I can’t see anything…" Every word seemed to sap his strength.

  "Yes, we are. I was hoping… waiting for you to come back. You almost died. It seemed to take forever for your fever to break. I... I was not sure you were going to make it. I didn't want to see you die, too." Her voice was shaky.

  "I made it."

  He could sense her calmness return, getting back control.

  "I'm sorry. I've seen too many… too much death."

  A long silence followed. Thoughts raced through Ryan's mind. How far were they from home?

  "And what's your name?" she asked.

  "Ryan... Ryan James."

  "How do you feel, Ryan?" Her voice carried the strange accent sweetly. It flowed so beautifully. He liked hearing her talk.

  "Water, do you have water?"

  "Yes, here," she poured a bit onto his lips. He coughed. "I'm OK. More please." It was a soothing coolness.

  "I feel terrible. I'm dizzy. I can't seem to get oriented. Everything is black."

  "I'm sorry, Ryan."

  He felt a tear drop on his chest. He reached for her face and touched her cheek. Gently, he wiped her tears away.

  "Don't cry. It's alright."

  She drew toward him, resting her head on his shoulder and quietly sobbed. He held her tight, trying to give her some comfort.

  Would they ever get out of here?

  He could feel the fear welling up inside him. He gritted his teeth and held on.

  She felt it. “We are OK for now.” Almost as if she knew what he was thinking. "They’ve been leaving us alone for some time now.”

  “How did you get here?”

  “I was driving. My car stalled. Something was up the road – it was big. I went to check it out. Next thing you know, I wake up being pulled through some hallway by these things.”

  "You were abducted while traveling between cities on Earth?" she asked.

  There was something in the way she phrased her words – seemed strange.

  "Yes, I think that’s what happened. What about you?”

  She didn’t answer for a moment. “Your captors are not human. The insectoids call themselves Txtians – and the others – the more savage ones - they are the Xilozaks.”

  “We’re not on Earth anymore are we?”

  “No, I’m sure we are thousands of light-years away from your home planet by now. As for our exact location, I don’t know. I can only tell you that you are on a slavership, an old converted warship of the Xi-Empire.”

  “You mean we are slaves? That’s… that’s not good news. How do you know so much? How long have you been here? Where did you get captured?”

  He reached out and gently brought his hand over her face. She didn’t pull away. High cheekbones, small nose, rounded lips – the marks of a beautiful woman.

  He pulled his hand away. The pain in his side was getting worse. He shifted over and felt something move. A surge of red heat seared up his side, as if a massive weight just pressed onto his chest. He gasped for breath.

  She said something to him – but it wasn’t in English.

  His head was swimming. The pain was overpowering.

  "Are you feeling pain? Can I help you?"

  English this time. Perfect English.

  "Here, you should have another drink. Don’t talk so much. The extra exertion may make it worse."

  “Something moved, I think it was a broken rib. It’s OK. It’s passing now.” He took a slow breath. “Tell me where you are from?"

  She didn’t answer. She didn’t say anything. It was unnerving.

  “Look, you kind of gave it away
already. A far as I can tell you are human, but your accent, your language is like nothing I’ve heard before. I may be going out on a limb here, but you aren’t from Earth, are you?”

  "Very well," she resigned with an exhaling of breath. "I guess it really does not matter, considering the circumstances." She paused, giving her next words careful consideration. "You are correct. I'm not from your planet, Ryan," she announced. "I'm from a planet called Signus. It's a beautiful world, similar to your home in many ways."

  He digested the news quietly. "But you're human," he responded weakly.

  "Yes. I am human, just like you. There are really no significant differences between Earthlings and Signites. Perhaps there is a slight difference in average height as we are generally shorter – oh yes – and Signite men cannot grow facial hair. Otherwise, we are, genetically speaking, identical.”

  She could feel his tension. It was a lot to take in. Did he believe her?

  “You see, we share the same ancestry, only we are slightly more developed as a people than you are. The prevailing theory is that both our planets were seeded long ago.”

  “Seeded?”

  “Yes, as we are genetically identical.”

  “You speak English perfectly? How is that possible?”

  “I have an aptitude for language. We recently intercepted radio signals from your planet. I have been studying the transmissions for some time. It helps that your language is close to one of our dialects.”

  “Then you also know how to get back to Earth?”

  “No. I’m not an astronavigation specialist. The news of Earth’s discovery was restricted knowledge. I’m absolutely sure the location of your home has been scrubbed from our databases. Our ship’s navigation systems were set to self-destruct.”

  He shifted uncomfortably, adjusting his position to subdue the pain.

  “I’m sorry. Are you feeling any better?” she asked, changing the subject.

  “No, actually. I’m feeling a bit queasy.”

  “You need food. Try this.” She placed a small, smooth, palm-sized cube into his hand. "It does not taste very good, but it is edible. Go on, take a bite," she urged.

  He did and almost spat it out. “It tastes like crap!”