Chapter 18: Part 3, Chapter 10

The shackles made moving awkward. Kat supposed that was the point. Her side was graduating from a source of unbearable pain to bearable soreness. There was just enough gravity to tell Kat they were on a large asteroid, but not enough to be useful or to make walking on bare rock possible.

If she could have, she would have taken a swing at the one who had told her she was lucky to be there. Apparently he wanted to watch her die.

She at least had given several of the prisoners back on the Erikson a chance to escape. Thinking of what she did, she smiled through the pain. It was worth it. If she did nothing else, she had at least done that.

The three of them were naked and were chained together with locals on each end of the chain. The man ahead of her was Lieutenant Corwin, the man who had saved her life after she had been shot and drug onto the boat by the locals. A woman Kat thought was his daughter was ahead of him. They all were being marched further into the asteroid. Kat did her best to keep up; it was better than being dragged by her feet and sometimes slammed into the rock walls. It smelled like death, like body odor and blood.

Many of the people they passed looked emaciated. One notable room showed two people having loud angry sex, with the door open.

Another door showed a beautiful woman in a revealing red dress stick a knife into a man who was tied down and slowly and carefully draw it through his body while he screamed. From what Kat could see, there was a packed auditorium of seats behind her.

She had no idea what he was screaming, but what she heard made her shiver long past when the screams faded.

They were brought to a hatch, the locals unlocked to throw all of them inside. It was ten meters across and had chains and shackles on two sides.

Inside were three more people from the Erikson, who had bruises and cuts all over their bodies.

She tried to think of Roger. He would have found something he could do. He always did.

She had to believe she would see him again.

It didn’t matter if she didn’t know how, so long as she kept hope there was a chance.

Kat began to cry.

---

Roger was in his new suit. Well, his only suit, the one Kyle made him for the dance just before they entered the local’s system. Kyle had made sure it was ready to go when he docked. Roger really was the last one to know he was running for office.

There were days when he thought he had the Erikson figured out, and then there were days when he thought he would never figure them out.

He and Dianna were about to enter their third bar of the night. The Drunk Duck was smallest and accordingly was mostly visited by people who worked night shifts. it was about three quarters full when Roger entered. He scratched at the top of his ridiculous purple sash.

“Don’t scratch, it makes you look uncomfortable and indecisive.

“Make eye contact and try to show emotion without being too emotional. Yes, I know that doesn’t make sense. Do it anyway.” Dianna sounded happy and had a slight smile, Roger didn’t know if she just enjoyed what she was doing or if she was pleased with Roger’s progress.

He went to an empty table, ordered some wine, and waited.

It was not long before the first person shouted a question. “Why didn’t we just give the locals all the information they wanted? Maybe we could have avoided this whole mess.” He then took a swig from his wine bulb and smiled, waiting for Roger to answer his question as everyone faced him.

“One of the first things the locals asked for was a complete copy of our database, and the council rightly decided to withhold it.

“That information was our best bargaining chip. They have a solar system— we have what is inside our hull.”

Roger doubted the questioner really thought that it would have worked. People were as likely to ask questions to make sure a candidate could argue effectively as they were for any other reason.

He waited a few seconds, as Dianna as taught him to, then before he looking the questioner square in the eyes, adding, “You saw the same messages that I did. They asked for slaves. While we can never know for sure, I doubt they would have been happy with just half of what they wanted. Bullies are never happy with half of what they ask for.”

“You have said you’re a man of peace?”

“Yes, I would like to think that most artists are.”

“Then how do you condone killing? You personally killed a ship full of people, and if you’re against appeasement, then you must be for war.”

“I..., I don’t condone war., I don’t want to fight. But I won’t see all of us killed. We did not start the war, but the war is here anyway. We either lay down and die or we must kill. If I saw a third option, I would take it.”

There were countless more questions. He drank sparingly of his bulb and answered as best he could. Dianna took notes and would occasionally give him a hint or a suggestion, but not as often as she did two bars before.

He tried to keep in mind that nothing anyone said should be taken personally. That was just how potential council members were judged by the populace. Dianna said that the worst thing he could do would be to get upset, in times of trouble, people want calm leaders more than anything else.

The group interrogation finally ended. Afterward, he spent an hour just talking with individual people. He walked around, getting to know his shipmates as best he could.

After most of the people looked satisfied, Roger stiffly stood up and said, “Thank you all for your time, but I have to get going to the next bar. I hope to have your votes.” He extended a hand to Dianna and helped her up as they left for the next bar.

---

Roger shook Norbert’s hand then shook his brother Robert’s. He was firm but not too hard, just as Dianna had instructed him to. Once Nadica had shook their hands all four of them backed off to their corners.

“Good luck, Roger, both here and in the election.”

“To you as well, Bert, in the game and the election.”

The ritual done, Dianna counted down from above them.

“Five.

“Four.”

Roger breathed in and a few times, studying the panels in the compartment, and trying to fix them in his mind.

“Three.

“Two.”

He tried to ignore the camera’s around the entire compartment. He hoped he would not regret agreeing to Dianna’s idea to have a televised game an hour before the election.

“One. Go!”

She released the ball straight down, and all four of them pushed off to head into the maze.

“Nadica! Middle! Get ready to bat it out.” Roger made several quick jumps and made it to the middle with the ball just a bit before Bert. He quickly hit the ball and saw that it was bouncing out behind him. Roger jumped in Bert’s direction, just missing him and hit the wall behind him. Jumping from that, he made it out the top with little effort.

He saw Nadica bouncing and jumping from the maze to the bulkhead, bouncing the ball between herself and the bulkhead to the right, keeping away from Robert.

“Now, Nadica!” he yelled as he jumped and made himself ballistic. A few seconds later, the ball was close enough for him to hit it quickly to the other side into the blue circle on the bulkhead in the far side of the compartment.

A buzz sounded and the ball was dropped again. Roger shot off as fast as he could, but he was too slow. Bert knocked it expertly out of the maze in his brother’s direction. Nadica could not stop him from scoring a point before Roger got there.

“Goalkeeper, Nadica.” Roger told her as he rushed into the maze and did not look to see if she had understood. When the ball was in play, he knocked it downward, away from either goal. He then blocked Bert from going down after it, and once Bert started to go the long way, Roger went upward, away from the ball and exited the maze. He was just in time to see the ball streaking to him from the side, he braced himself and hit it into their goal.

He heard three buzzes and the goals darkened.

Dianna descended onto the maze and held up his and Nadica’s hands briefly. As they shook hands, Bert and Robert both said, “Good game.”

That done Dianna, while speaking into a mic, said, “That is the game, citizens, may you vote wisely and with forethought.”

---

Somehow, Roger won. Whatever Dianna had done worked. He was mag-walking to the celebration. He fidgeted with his ring and wished Kat was with him, hanging on his shoulder. She could always make him feel better.

He would like to think that it was about him, but he doubted it. The way everyone was feeling any excuse to drink and make merry was a good one.

The cargo bay was large and full of people standing on all the bulkheads, above, below, and around. They had no concept of “down”. Everyone looked at him expectantly, and many looked happy.

Dianna handed him a bulb of wine as he entered. She spouted another of her useful facts, “A significant minority of people, mostly men, will not trust someone who will not drink with them. Please do so.”

Adrian walked up to him and shook his hand saying, “Congratulations on getting the seat.” Roger noticed his new uniform. It was blue with a rope hanging down from his shoulder and an emblem of the Erikson. More of Kyle’s work, if Roger was right.

Roger looked at him and said, “I would say condolences are due to both of us, Colonel. I’m just one of five councilor’s, and you’re the new project lead and in charge of getting us back to the grid.”

Roger sighed then said, “It feels like just yesterday that the biggest worry I had was paying my rent.”

Adrian looked at him soberly for a few seconds then said, “I saw you take a ship that could barely move and go up against two warships. You kept your head and managed to retrieve half the hostages. Not to mention how you saved the Snowball.

“You handle stress better than most hardened soldiers I’ve known. You’re the same man under fire as you are here and now. That is rarer than you might think. You even gave them a chance to surrender.”

“For all the good that did.” Roger quipped as he took a drink.

“You tried. That’s more than most would have done, me included. I would have opened fire without hesitation. Then we would not have gotten anyone back. They might have even been killed in the fight.”

He made an all-encompassing gesture and said. “They all know who you really are and what you value. That’s why they look so happy; they look at you and see hope, see a man who will not give up. They know you are willing to fight for them, even die if that is what it takes. That is why you were elected.

“What lies ahead is not as bad as what you have already had to do.”

Roger got the idea that the last bit was rehearsed.

There was a loud whistle, they looked to see Dianna floating a meter off the bulkhead. She raised her bulb and said. “A toast to Councilor Roger Wright Powell. May his decisions be wise and his meetings short.” A cheer went up.

More somberly she added, “May they honor the memory of the Honorable Councilor Jack Nyda.”

Roger did not know what came over him. He was never one to call attention to himself or to enjoy public speaking. But he loudly said, “We will get our people back. We will leave this system!”

The rest of the night was a blur. He was handed more drinks over two hours than he normally drank in two months. Everyone wanted to thank him for saving those few that he could. Some just wanted to be reassured that everything would be fine.

He did what he could. It would have to be enough. That was all he could do. The next day, the council had a meeting that hopefully would be the start of getting their people back.

---

Roger slowly magwalked up to the doors to the council chamber, his shoe’s magnets were echoing loudly. With hesitation, he opened them. They really were doors, real wooden ones. Thinking about it, he realized they were the first wooden doors he had seen on board.

He pushed them open and entered. The room was large, for the Erikson, at least. It had a round table with five seats on one side. Large screens were on the bulkheads to either side. A large gallery was facing the table.

He felt like he was an impostor, a fraud. But then he thought of Kat, and he thought of what she would do. So he walked in with his head held high.

There were seven people in the room. The only ones Roger recognized were Adrian and Captain Patel, who were both in uniform. They and one other man were standing near the gallery; he was quickly swiping through pages, as if going through something he already knew well. The others were behind the large round desk with five seats behind it.

The four behind the desk wore the red sashes of office over suits that were much finer than Roger’s.

The captain said, “Gentlemen and ladies, I believe everyone is here. We have a lot to go through. We should get started.”

Roger sat down. Not that sitting down was needed in freefall. But in the rings, everything, including desk height, was made with the assumption that there would always be gravity.

After making some quick introductions, Captain Patel said, “Since the untimely passing of Councilor Nyda, the council lacks leadership. We also lack time, so I suggest we forgo debate and select Councilor Myra.”

He knew there must be more going on, but right then, he did not care. He had no desire to spend the next two hours voting on who got to break tie votes and speak first, so he said, “I vote for Myra as spokesman.”

The rest of the councilors all agreed.

“You have the floor, Spokesman Myra.” The captain then stood to the side by an unused screen.

Truth be told, Myra looked more like a school teacher than the leader of five thousand people and a ship that was worth more than some cities.

“First order of business is to make this a closed meeting. We will have to discuss strategic and tactical plans, things that cannot leave this room. This requires four assents’.

“All in favor?” she said. Everyone was.

“Very well, all records will be retained for one year, after which, the record will be made public. Doctor, Colonel, and Captain, I will require your oaths.” She inclined her head to the three men standing apart from the council.

“I swear,” they all said.

With authority, she then said, “Colonel, would you please detail the strategic and supply situation? And please, everyone, hold your questions until everything is outlined. I am sure the captain and colonel will forward all the details to you.”

The colonel gave an almost imperceptible bow and said, “Very well, ma’am.”

He swung one of the screens out, locked it on the deck, and turned it on to show a composite image of the surrounding space.

It painted a familiar picture. The Erikson was surrounded by six local ships.

“From our observations, they can’t damage us severely with lasers at this distance. Their power generation is simply not up to the task.

“Their rail guns might be able to hull the Erikson, but we can’t be sure. The real threat are nuclear missiles. There are only a few places we could take even a modest nuclear blast at point blank range and survive.

“The Alice is currently deployed and outfitted with lasers and a few probes with high G engines, but can’t do more than station keep under its own power. It was no less then than a miracle that she made it back here at all.”

“The locals say all six ships have nukes more powerful than they used against us before and if we send anything past them, they will open fire on the Erikson. This is possible, and it should be taken seriously.

“We have six people who have been captured and taken, we believe to this asteroid, although they could have been moved since then.” The image shifted to a view of the world the locals had colonized, the fourth from the sun. It had a small moon, or rather a captured asteroid.

“The asteroid is frankly a fortress that would match anything the grid has to offer. I doubt a dozen high yield nukes would even be noticed by those inside. We have attempted to open negotiations for the release of our people but have been ignored. As your military commander, I recommend against any negotiations except as a stall tactic. After what they just pulled, I don’t see how we can ever trust them.”

He slowly stared at the council as he said that, then flicked his wrist and the image changed to a diagram of one of the local ships. It looked vaguely like one of the Erikson’s boats but with only a fraction of the interior space, and it’s reactor compartment was much larger.

“This information was derived from data recorded during and just after their assault. It stands to reason they would be pushing their ships to their utmost limit during the raid.

“Fortunately, the local ships are several hundred years behind us in technology. They lack any form of efficient power generation. The large ships use fission driven steam turbines. As such, they cannot exceed one G. We have not seen any plasma or particle weapons. The lasers they have are very limited in power and range, particularly when they are also using their main drives.

“I am not ashamed to admit their technology level is confusing me and my think tank. We never used steam turbine’s on ships. They lack technology that was freely available well before anyone left Sol.”

“All consumables are low. Using all organics, and I do mean all, up to and including decorative plants and paper, we have a month and half of food. Up to twice that if we cut rations. And it will take two weeks to process any raw material we find.”

Patel spoke up and said, “I have ordered all the repair crews to stop work on the plate as well as all acceleration systems. They are converting our six remaining boats into warships.”

A man who was introduced to Roger as Erick Lucas, a fireplug of a man and one of the few people on the Erikson to have a beard, stood up. He said, “You don’t think you should have consulted us?”

“No, Councilor, disposition of repairs is my responsibility. In my judgment, putting men and resources repairing systems we cannot use is, at best, unnecessary. If you wish, you may relieve me, but you may not micromanage me. If you are going to relieve me, I suggest you do so now. Doing so during a crisis would only make things worse.” The captain replied while starring down Lucas.

Lucas quickly shot back with, “And if the locals saw this as an act of war? They have us surrounded and can call upon the wealth of planets. Our one improvised warship is wrecked.”

“Sir, most of the work is being done within the service locks. The rest is being disguised such that I doubt our own engineers would be able to tell what is being done if they were given only the data the locals have.”

“We only have a few boats left, have you considered making new boats instead?”

Even Roger knew enough to know what the captain would say next. “Sir, that unfortunately is not remotely practical. Even if it would not take vital materials away from the plate, we don’t even have the tools to make the superstructure. It could take months to even get started making what we would need under good conditions.”

The new military commander moved over to the display and said, “Their plan clearly appears to starve us out. They cut the ships around us and aren’t making a fuss about us sending a few pods around. I think the fact the Alice took a missile and kept going has confused them. We need to use that as much as we can.”

Lucas, with a swiping motion of his hands, said, “Our goal remains the same. Peace. We require the cooperation of the locals to get the supplies. We can ask for volunteers to teach them if that is what it takes.”

That was all Roger could stomach. “Our goal is peace,—it is leaving the system with all our people on board!

“I would to do that peacefully, but I doubt we can. We can’t trust these people. I hate war and I hate violence; I’m an artist before I’m anything else. But if war and violence are the only way to save our people, then that’s what we’ll do!”

Before he could say anything else, Spokesman Myra calmly but sternly said, “Colonel, thank you for your report.” She looked at Roger and Lucas.

Myra then said, “I led the team that did the medical tests on our prisoners. All noninvasive, of course. First, they are human to any degree you would care to measure. We did a DNA map to try and pin down where they came from and we came up with no result.

“The computer had no record of their ancestry; they have some gene sequences never recorded. This sequence is new to us and is common to all results.”

The screen showed a sample of DNA, which made little sense to him.

“This section is artificial and very dominant. I don’t know if even Liang could splice something this large without any adverse effects. We don’t know what it does exactly and given the constraints we are working under, we probably won’t find out any time soon.”

Speaking for the first time, Samuel Drake said, “Not that this isn’t interesting, but why does it matter right now?” Drake was, besides Roger, the youngest member and by far the most muscular. He tended to talk with his hands.

The captain stepped forward and said, “It matters because of this.” he pulled up pictures of the scrap from the wreck that was in high orbit of the gas giant.

“The engineers are saying it’s over a thousand years old. I understand we have been saying that the tests must be wrong, but I doubt that is the case now. These are humans, but they are not from Earth.”

Saying what Roger was thinking, Drake then said, “Is that even possible? I admit it’s been a few years since I took biology, but it was my understanding that aliens we meet will be, you know, alien.”

Myra sighed. then said, “It should not be possible, no. I have been a biologist for most of my life. All my experience and training says that this isn’t possible. I would love to delve into it, but today, we have other things to worry about. This was verified by the prisoners themselves, who say they have never left the system. I can’t think of a reason for them to lie about it.”

The colonel added, “When interrogating the prisoners, the full transcripts of which are being forwarded to you all now, I noted something odd. None of them were against telling us anything.

“Even the most disloyal man tends to hesitate to tell his captors what they want to hear. It just didn’t feel right. So, I asked the good doctor here to talk to them. He found something we need to hear.”

The doctor’s head snapped up and he stopped reading his wristcomp and walked to the middle of the room. He flicked his wrist and changed what the screen was displaying.

It displayed what looked like a scan of a brain. He then said, “This is the scan of the brain of a local we call Bob. Note this section here.” He waved at very small black area. “This tissue is alive, but its atrophied and barely has any electro-chemical contact with any other part of the brain. It’s dead center in what is sometimes poetically called the moral center. It helps govern the higher emotions.

“All of them have dead tissue in the exact same spot. This is outside my field, but the section of DNA the biologists found does look like it might govern brain architecture, although we can’t be sure.

“I gave Bob, as well as the others, a battery of tests. Simple stuff, mostly. Without a working knowledge of his culture, anything more is difficult. The results were as close to conclusive as is possible. All three prisoners are sociopaths. Moreover, they were confused by what we were doing. They did not even try to fake passing the tests like almost every sociopath would.

“On a hunch, I checked with the language team, and I was unfortunately correct. Granted, our knowledge of their language is limited but we have yet to uncover any words that refer to the concepts of love, empathy, or to any of the other higher emotions.”

“I submit that either all or almost all of the locals are sociopaths. I am sadly forced to agree with the Colonel. We can’t trust any agreement we make with these people.”