Alien Caged (33 page)

“The Matara must be first to safety,” one elder Imdiko said when the captain hesitated.

Zemos blinked.  He executed a quick bow to the Imdiko and looked at his men.  “Thank you, Doctor.  Thank you, everyone.”

Elisa was ushered to the head of the line.  Despite the need to hurry, she threw one more glance over her shoulder before going into the barely-lit service tunnel.

Her gaze met Oret’s.  The Nobek was watching them leave, making sure his clan was safe.  Elisa knew he already counted her as a member of his family ... as she did.  She only hoped she would get the chance to tell him.

His lips moved.  In the ear-ringing cacophony of the blaster fight, she saw rather than heard him say, “I will see you soon.”

She yelled back, “Promise!”

Oret nodded solemnly.  Then he turned away to bark orders at his men, doing his job to protect her, whatever may come.

Elisa let Zemos prod her into the tunnel.  She hurried now, getting clear of the room so that Oret would have a better chance of surviving without her in his way.  As his woman, it was what she had to do to protect him.

She was his.  His and Zemos’ and Miragin’s.  Elisa knew now beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would choose these men over the Earthers on the battlecruiser.

* * * *

The percussion blaster fire was nowhere near Joseph and Robards, but it was still thick enough to feel as they stepped off the lift onto the engineering deck.  A loud ringing whine started in Joseph’s ears almost immediately as they complained against the damaging noise.  Yells, screams, and animal-like howls punctuated the continuous
shoo-wup
sounds of the weapons.

Joseph had gone over his options one last time as he’d journeyed to this maniacal party.  He didn’t pause for an instant.  He set off at a dead run and rounded the corner that should have shown him the entrance to main engineering.  In the corridor’s dim lighting, instead of seeing the wide arched opening of his goal, a clot of uniformed backs stood in his way.  He ran straight to the knot of Earther crew battling to get inside the room.  He shoved his way through to the front of the fight.

He heard Robards scream behind him.  “Captain!  Damn it, Walker, use some cover!”

Joseph ignored him.  He knew his chances of saving Elisa were slim.  Saving himself was almost as unlikely and much less wanted.  He only wanted to erase these last years of infamy, to try to replace the shame with one stellar moment of heroism.  He would try to rescue the one person who deserved it most or he would die trying.

Dying felt more than okay to him now.  He had failed on so many levels.  Being a virtual prisoner on his own ship or a literal one of the Kalquorians was not acceptable to Joseph.  If being killed was his only refuge now, he would gladly go to it.

As if to take him up on his offer, shimmering air distorted the entrance to Engineering as grim-faced Kalquorians returned fire.  The Earther captain kept going, staggering over the fallen bodies of human and alien alike.  He fired continuously, forcing the Kalquorians to duck back inside main engineering.  They popped back out to shoot at him, howling and showing fangs as he came closer.

He did not care.  Even when a glancing percussion blast buffeted one arm, tearing flesh from him, Joseph ignored the pain and kept moving forward.  He was aware that his men had taken courage from his suicidal attack and followed him, yelling as bestially as their enemies.

Joseph and his men closed the distance, blasting their way to the room’s entrance.  For his part, the young Earther captain was exhilarated as he tore a path towards the heart of the ship, though he knew at any moment he would be cut down.  That was all right.  In these final moments before he must die, Joseph felt something he hadn’t in many years:  gloriously alive.

* * * *

The escaping Kalquorians had quit the tunnels for the tighter confines of maintenance shafts that allowed them to descend levels without using the lifts.  The fit was too tight as far as Zemos was concerned.  The tube he crawled through felt like it closed in on him, making it difficult to breathe.  An old enemy of his, claustrophobia, had him in its vise-grip.  It had been uncomfortable enough while in the cramped cell with his clanmates, but he’d managed.  These tubes and tunnels were another matter entirely.  Zemos had to keep reminding himself to breathe steadily as he climbed downward.  Over and over he made himself note that his shoulders and back did not brush the walls of the tube. 

Plenty of room.  Plenty of air.  No reason to panic.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.

The tube was barely lit, but it wasn’t hard to make things out with Zemos’ sensitive eyesight.  He saw the hatches and the non-functioning computer grids he passed.  There were glowing words at regular intervals that told him where he was, confirming they still headed in the right direction. 

It helped his claustrophobia that he could see, as opposed to Elisa, who had mentioned she couldn’t distinguish anything in the ‘pitch black’.  Had Zemos been as blind as she, he would have possibly lost control of himself.  Shut up in darkness, enclosed all around?  He’d have gone mad within seconds.

The Dramok captain had taken the lead of the small group of men making their way to the cargo hold, where they would hide next.  It was the same hold they’d initially taken shelter in before attacking Engineering.  The Earthers had not found them there before, and it seemed as good a place as any to conceal their whereabouts.  Being able to reach it through the tunnels without having to use the main corridors made it an even better option. 

There was always hope that the coming members of the Empire’s fleet would reach the battlecruiser before the Earthers found them.  Zemos knew that particular hope was slim at best.  In this coffin of tunnels running through enemy territory, it was easy to feel the hopelessness of his situation.  He felt he led a group of men already dead.  The rustling and shuffling noises they made as they followed him down ladders were ghostly enough.  He fancied the occasional low mutter of voices were the whispers of lost souls calling to their long-dead ancestors, begging to join them.

Only one thing kept primitive terror from making Zemos fight his surroundings in an effort to escape:  Elisa.  She descended the ladder above him, carefully feeling her way down in the darkness with Miragin just above her.  With Oret fighting for their survival elsewhere, it had become Zemos’ place to protect as well as guide his other two clanmembers.  It mattered not that Elisa had not consented to join his family.  As far as the Dramok was concerned, she was his.  She was clan.

From the look on her face as she peered sightlessly down, she was as freaked out by their surroundings as he was.  Needing to calm her fears gave Zemos the will to force aside his phobia of tight, dark places.  His Matara needed his strength, and he would not fail her.

He called up to her, “Are you all right, Elisa?  If you feel dizzy, I can carry you.”

He saw her swallow.  The fake smile was a trembling mask that did nothing to hide her growing terror.  Yet she refused to give in to her fears.  Instead she called back, “I’m okay.  Just tired.  How much farther?”

“Just one more level,” Zemos said, consoling her and himself.  They were close to their destination.  He would get her, Miragin, and his crew to temporary safety.

That last level seemed to last the longest, however.  Zemos knew they’d been in the maintenance shafts, tunnels, and tubes for under an hour.  The final level would take them less than fifteen minutes to climb down.  Yet somehow time changed in this horrid space, every second stretching for untold eons.  Zemos felt forever had passed before he reached the spot where escape was at last possible.  The final tunnel, just tall enough for him to stand upright in, appeared next to him.

“We’re here,” he called to those following him.  “Everyone stay put until I make sure our way is clear.”

He heard Miragin pass the word up to those higher up on the ladder as he stepped into the short corridor.  Moments later, Zemos stood before the hatch that would finally allow him to escape the harrowing cramped space where there was no room and no air.  He drew his blaster from his belt, readying it to fire on anyone he might find on the other side of the door.  Quelling the desperate desire to fling the hatch wide open and jump into the space beyond, Zemos triggered the release.  The hatch swung open soundlessly, and the captain crouched, ready for trouble.

Nothing moved in the cargo hold.  Lit dimly, but much better than the maintenance shafts, the empty vastness beyond looked cavernous after the close quarters Zemos had just endured.  Breath left him in a rush.  He inhaled deeply to refill his lungs as he looked for any sign of life in the huge bay.  No one was to be seen, however, and he stepped out.

The Dramok could have screamed with the relief he felt.  At the same time, he despised himself for the weakness of the last few minutes that had nearly left him like a frightened child.

He looked over the cargo bay, reminding himself of how it was laid out.  It was immense, easily the size of three professional kurble fields laid end to end.  Hover pallets were stacked along one of the longer walls.  Metal cargo bins, immense rectangular boxes that stood chest high to Zemos, were stored in a long line.  Empty space the size of his old destroyer’s bridge lay in front of and behind the bins, where he stood now.

There was only the one entrance into the bay besides the tunnel access.  The access was too small to admit an attack party, but he’d put a guard there too, just in case.  A computer console, big enough for a dozen men to work at, was at the far wall.  Otherwise, the hold was empty.  Whatever supplies it might have once held were gone, leaving a blank area more than big enough for his crew to shelter in.  To the Kalquorian captain, it was heavenly. 

Zemos shook off the last vestiges of the claustrophobia and his self-flagellation for feeling it.  He went back to the tunnel and leaned in to call to the others, “It’s all clear.  You can come in here.”

Elisa and Miragin appeared seconds later, blinking in the better illumination.  Elisa’s shoulders visibly eased from their hunched appearance.  “There’s plenty of space in here,” she observed.  “It’s bigger than I remember.”

Zemos’ noncombat crew filed in.  Their low-voiced conversations and the thud of their boots echoed in the wide-open bay.  Once he’d gotten a head count and confirmed his entire party had made it, Zemos went to the computer console at the far end of the room.  He was glad to see it power up with no problem.  He checked and found he could still connect with the computer Oret worked at in Engineering.  He typed in the letter ‘Z’, the signal to Oret that they’d made it to the cargo bay safely.

Oret responded almost immediately, the message appearing in a floating vid over Zemos’ console: 
under heavy fire earthers coming into engineering now taking out all control systems and evacuating
.

Zemos glanced up to see Elisa and Miragin standing close, waiting for word on their Nobek.  He gave them a reassuring smile.  “Oret will be on his way soon.”

Elisa looked at Zemos worriedly.  “I hope so.  What do we do in the meantime?”

“Wait and hope.”

Miragin’s tone was brittle with false brightness.  “Oh good.  I’ve had plenty of practice with that.”

Zemos chucked his Imdiko under the chin and ruffled Elisa’s hair.

To his surprise, she leaned her cheek into his palm.  His heart caught to see how she looked at him.  She looked at him the way he thought a Matara would gaze at her Dramok, with trust in his strength and guidance.

Perhaps she was only frightened and begging for signs of reassurance.  Maybe he shouldn’t read anymore than that in the soft expression of her eyes.  Yet, Zemos couldn’t help but hope for what he thought he saw.

That was fine with him.  Like Miragin, he had plenty of experience in waiting and hoping.

Chapter 17

Howls, blasts, and yells rang in Oret’s ears as he sped to change computer passcodes and inserted viruses into every system he could to fuck up the ship’s operations.  He was running out of time, a fact demonstrated when blaster shots went off in Engineering itself.

He looked up.  Earthers were spilling into the room, driving his men back with deadly fury.  Oret’s eyes widened to see Captain Walker at the front of the attackers.

The Earther captain, always so mild and uncertain, had turned into a screaming demon.  Oret almost didn’t recognize the young man, so distorted were his features as he fought his way in.  The wily Nobek knew that look well, however.  Joseph Walker was a man who had been backed into a corner, with little left to live for.  He had made the decision to go out in a blaze of glory.

Walker’s madman yells went from bestial shrieks to something a bit more sane as a name poured from his throat.  “Elisa!  Elisa, where are you?”

Oret had seen the order that would have his Matara killed at his side, but Walker’s tone was not that of a man pursuing fanatical justice.  Despite his ferocity, the Earther’s voice possessed a note of desperation.  It decided Oret in an instant as to Walker’s immediate fate.

The Nobek gave the computer one last command, judging he’d run out of time.  He grabbed his blaster from the console surface, and raced around to join in the fighting.  He went straight for Walker.