This is one of those sections with the um scifi conventions from other places as well? I might have mentioned that in the beginning, I might not have. I like many ideas that come from different fandoms, but I'll only be taking pieces or ideas, because I think that it would all exist together. That may not make sense. This section is a little rushed, but it's ok. The Unas and Cha'ka come from Stargate... SG-1. Which I don't even watch. But Cha'ka happened to be on a couple of times (I think he's only in like two episodes anyway) before Enterprise, so I saw him and liked him a lot. And I stole him. I changed him a little too, so he's not exactly like he is on the show. That's all insignificant. The next section will be back on Earth. (with ARRRRRRR Pirate Malcolm)
Part 4
Zane's estate, while much bigger than Lek's residence, showed little difference in the housing of slaves. Jon remained quiet along the journey to his new home, and the guards even found he was easier to handle while unloading him from the ship. It was in many parts due to the restraining collar. But as they came closer to the cages that served as slave quarters, he pulled sharply at the chains that were attached to the binders on his wrists, making the guards stop when they couldn't pull him forward anymore.
Jon yanked at the chains hard, planting his feet, and refusing to move. The first guard pulled back on the chain impatiently, but the second gave an exasperated sigh. "You're wasting your time," he said, and reached for the control button on his wristband for the collar.
The only indication that it was working, was an electrical buzzing noise, and Jon dropped to his knees. He whole body shook for a moment in pain and he gritted his teeth, but then it let up, and he leaned forward to catch his breath.
The first guard tugged on the chain again. "Get up. Unless you want another one," he said roughly.
Jon shakily tried to get to his feet, not wanting to endure the wrath of the collar again. With a grin, the first guard pulled sharply on the chain to cause Jon to stumble forward off balance, then he laughed at his self-made amusement. As he quickly regained his balance and stood solidly on both feet, Jon narrowed his eyes at the guard, uttering a low animalistic growl.
Shaking his head, the second guard started walking again. "Don't mess with him like that, he's liable to pull your arms off."
"He won't. These players aren't as tough as they look in the arena."
"If that's what you want to believe." The second guard pulled one of the cage doors open and nodded to Jon. "Get in."
Jon swallowed hard, looking into the darkness of the cell. The doors were solid with a single square window, and there was another window in the back, but it didn't provide much light. As he looked down the row of doors, he could see other creatures looking out at him—some were timid and looked away when they saw him glance their away, but others glared back threateningly.
The first guard sighed and yanked hard on the chain. "Come on, we don't got all day."
Reluctantly, Jon started to walk inside, and as he passed the guards, they quickly unlocked the binders and pushed him inside, then they slammed the door shut.
It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. Jon stood perfectly still. Even without seeing, he could smell another creature. It had a distinctive scent, but he couldn't place what it was. It smelled of sweat and work, and fire smoke. There was a shuffling sound in the corner, and Jon barely made out movement as it stood up.
It growled softly. Jon swallowed hard and back against the door with his palms pressed to the cold metal. Slowly, the creature came out of the corner, crouched down low cautiously. It had leathery skin that was green and brown, and an oblong head. Jon had seen the species before. They were dangerous and primitive—an Unas.
The Unas narrowed his yellow eyes and sniffed at him, growling a set of foreign words. Jon chewed on his lip. Even if he could try to speak to the Unas and tell him that he meant no harm, it was doubtful that the Unas would understand him. Jon certainly didn't understand him.
As the Unas growled again, Jon slowly brought his hands out and showed them with his palms forward. Tilting his head to the side, the Unas creased his brow and hissed softly, as he cautiously stepped forward. Slowly, he held out his four fingered hands, and he turned his palms forward to face Jon.
Jon started to ease a little and his body became less tense. He didn't lower his guard all the way though. He never did—he knew better. But even the Unas stood up a little straighter, getting out of his defensive stance. They were both unarmed, and peaceful. Jon found that the gesture was universal, even for the primitive Unas.
With some caution, the Unas closed his hand in a fist, and he brought it to his chest. "Cha'ka…" he said in a low growl.
Jon lowered his hands and creased his brow a little in confusion, but then he began to mimic the action, and he brought his fist to his chest.
The Unas showed his teeth at him and turned his head sharply to the side. The growl that he gave wasn't sharp and threatening, but almost like a purr. It didn't scare Jon. Neither did the teeth. "Cha'ka.." he said again.
The only thought that occurred to him was that it must be his name. They had proven that they were not hostile, now the Unas was telling his name, or so he thought. Cha'ka.
The Unas narrowed his eyes again and thumped his chest. "Unas," he said. "Te Cha'ka." Then he pointed at Jon with a clawed finger. "Ta 'Uman?"
It was a little difficult to process, but he could tell that the Unas—Cha'ka—was making an effort to communicate. Jon thumped his fist on his chest in response, to answer the question that he thought was asking if he was human.
Cha'ka barred his teeth again in a pleased manner. "Ta?" he growled again.
Jon creased his brow. He brought a hand up to his throat, where the collar was, and then to his mouth, shaking his head. He wasn't even sure if the motions made sense to.. Cha'ka.
But the Unas tilted his head to the side again, looking Jon over closely. The message was clear enough. Cha'ka lowered himself to sit down on the metal floor, and he raised his hand up and motioned downwards. "Cha."
He cautiously moved away from the door to sit down too. They had established that they were not hostile already, and Jon may not trust Cha'ka, but they were at least starting to communicate. He would have never imagined it from an Unas, especially after facing a few in the tournament arena.
Jon could not remember being this cold for a long time. The sound of his boots on the ground sounded more like he was running on gravel than snow. But he was thankful that he had the boots this time. His hands were not as fortunate, and his finger on the trigger of the energy rifle felt like ice. He wasn't sure that he could fire the weapon if he needed to, or if he tried to use his hands to fight, that they might shatter from the cold.
The top of the snow was flat, and as he ran down a snow-dune, he slipped and skid down the rest of the way on his back. The mediocre armor that Zane had him fitted with made grooves in the snow on the way down. As soon as he stopped sliding, Jon scrambled back to his feet and started running. His chest heaved, and every time he breathed, his breath made a small cloud in the cold. Jon swore that the inside of his lungs were also coated with ice.
A large chimney of snow-covered rock was in front of him and two his left. Jon jumped down another small hill and skid to a stop with his boots, taking a moment to catch his breath with his back pressed up against the rock. He held the energy rifle to his chest, and he looked both up and down the snow slope, listening to see if he could hear anyone coming.
There were a few snowflakes that lazily danced down from sky, landing on his hair and melting quickly on his skin, to make up for the ones that he missed while running. A sharp wind rippled past him, raising goosebumps under the layer of sweat on his skin. Jon shivered. But other than the wind and his heartbeat, it was silent.
Cautiously, he took step out from the shelter of the stone. Then when he determined that it was safe, he took another. Suddenly, he heard movement behind him, and someone stepping on gravel snow. Jon turned, trying to raise his weapon in time, but his opponent was ready first and swung the butt of his gun to hit Jon as he was turning.
The blow made him spin once before he dropped onto the snow on his stomach. Behind him, the creature gave a mechanical laugh as it approached. Jon flipped around by digging his elbow into the snow, and he raised his rifle, but the creature kicked his arm aside, preparing to slam the butt of his own gun down again for an up-close kill. They were worth more points.
Jon immediately rolled to the side and the butt of the falling rifle bit into the snow, causing some of the top layer to spray across on him. He dug his boots into the snow to gain traction as he scrambled to his feet, but his opponent was ready for him and slammed him against the rock. His hands had maintained their grip on the rifle, and he brought it up to hit the creature's chin, knocking him backwards a step.
It was enough of an opening. Jon twisted his grip on the energy rifle to fire at the creature, hitting its abdomen with a blue bolt of light. The blow knocked the creature back against a bank of snow and he didn't get up again.
Jon's eyes darted around, and he started to run down the slope again.
"I concede that he is impressive, Zane." Jaurrel leaned back in his padded chair and folded his hands. "For a human."
"Humans rarely advanced this far, and especially not slaves," Zane commented. "Occasionally one of the rich ones with special enhancements will, or perhaps one of the psychotic criminals that they decide to sentence here."
"The criminals are used to killing, it is logical that they would do well."
"Of course…" Zane trailed off. He pressed a button on the arm of his chair that changed the view on the large screen before them. The arena terrain was mountainous, but it was smaller than other outdoor arenas, which confined the players to the mountains and ice caves. There were many open areas as well as hiding places and uneven terrain, which made it an exciting and unpredictable arena. Just a few months ago, two players had killed themselves in a snow avalanche. No one really mourned their loss, the mistake that they made proved that they were stupid as well as undesirable.
Zane usually preferred to observe games that he had investments in from his ship in orbit. A direct feed was sent to his viewing room, where he watched either with guests or by himself. For now, it was an opportunity to show off his newest acquisition to Jaurrel, who he found to be one of the few Vulcans with any interests in the tournament.
As they continued to watch, Jaurrel sighed softly. "I do not believe that your human is adapted to the cold. He may not survive to the end of the match."
"He was expensive, he had better survive," Zane said in a low tone as he folded his arms. He found it at times difficult to communicate effectively with Jaurrel. Most Vulcans annoyed him with their lack of emotions. Though Jaurrel wasn't quite as bad as the others. He imagined that was why Jaurrel liked the games.
"The expense of a player does not always determine their value."
"Is that in the teachings of Surak?" Zane asked, glancing at him briefly.
Jaurrel simply raised an eyebrow. "No. It is experience and logic."
"Somehow I don't think Surak would approve of these games."
"That is likely."
Zane sighed and stretched in his chair. "Has there been any news about T'Pol yet? Or is she still avoiding you?"
"I do not see how my personal life has any relevance to the current situation," Jaurrel replied calmly.
"I'll take that to mean no. Maybe you should give her a human, it might loosen her up."
Slowly, Jaurrel looked over to Zane. He found that as a Gerotian, Zane was nearly as excitable as an Andorian. How they came to appreciate each other's company, he still wasn't sure. "I do not believe it would have any effect."
"It might, you take my word for it… Look! See that?" Zane nearly sprung out of his chair as he pointed at the screen. "I told you he was good. He's going to win."
Jaurrel's attention turned back to the viewscreen. "Perhaps you are right.." he replied quietly.
As the guards brought Jon back to the cage, they found that they didn't have to use the collar at all after the game was over. Injured and exhausted, he was much easier to handle. They wished that all of the slaves that they had to deal with would be the same way all the time. It would make life easier for everyone.
The first guard held onto Jon's arm as the other one opened up the door. They pushed him in without trouble—he didn't even balk at the darkness of the cage like he had before. Jon was too tired. At least the cage would be a good place to sleep.
He stumbled and fell as they pushed him inside and locked the door, and he could hear their amused laughter as they walked away. Jon didn't get up from where he fell, resting his warm forehead on the cold metal. It felt good.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness faster as he knew what to look for, and he could see Cha'ka moving out of the corner towards him cautiously. His cellmate sniffed the air and growled softly, crouching down next to Jon.
"Ka-nay."
There were words that Cha'ka said that came up over and over, and Jon was learning their meanings. They were teaching each other—they had to, but most of the teaching was accomplished with their hands. Sometimes Cha'ka translated that way. It helped most of the time. But Jon didn't know what 'ka-nay' meant. There was no translation.
Cha'ka tilted his head to the side a little and he reached out to touch Jon's shoulder. "Ka-nay. 'Uman."
With a small wince, he tried to sit up to face him, but Cha'ka's hold on his shoulder tightened to hold him down and keep him from moving. "Ka!" he hissed quickly.
Jon knew what 'ka' meant. It was 'no'. Not moving seemed like a good idea to him too. Carefully, he lifted a hand up, like lifting a cup to his lips.
While they were in the cages and not working, the guards brought food and water. When Jon had been gone for two days, Cha'ka had saved the second share for him, not knowing when he would come back. He reached for the cup of water and handed it to him, watching him drink with shaky hands.
He drank half of the water in the cup, then set it aside, laying his head back down.
Cha'ka edged closer. "Ka-nay?" he said in a tone of inquiry.
Jon looked up at him again and lifted his hand again, to point to his mouth, then he shook his head as he pointed to it. Cha'ka would know the meaning well enough—that Jon didn't understand.
Narrowing his eyes, Cha'ka pointed to Jon. "Ka-nay." He interwove his fingers, then he pulled them apart and held up one hand. "Unas." Then the other hand. "'Uman." Then he wove them together again.
All that he could get from it, was Unas and human were together. But nothing else.
Cha'ka reached forward to try to pull Jon's shirt up and see where he was hurt. The smell of blood was strong enough to tell. But Jon quickly reached down to stop him.
Immediately, the Unas pulled back and he growled softly. "Cha," he said, and pointed at a healing gash on his arm. The guards were rougher with the Unas that Zane owned than with the other slaves, and one of them cut Cha'ka. Jon cleaned the wound a few days before he left for the tournament. The message was clear enough that Cha'ka was repaying it.
While he wasn't entirely comfortable with it, Jon nodded, and let Cha'ka see to his wounds. Armor usually had little effect for protection. His chest was battered and his arms and legs were cut and bruised. The gash on his forehead from getting hit by the rifle butt was surrounded by blue and purple swollen skin. It throbbed too. He knew it would leave a scar and add to the ones he had already.
Jon closed his eyes and tried to ignore Cha'ka's poking and prodding as he tried to clean some of the wounds. He was beginning to trust him. He had a strong feeling that Cha'ka was trusting him too. Just as he started to drift off to sleep, the thought occurred to him that 'ka-nay' meant friend. It was Cha'ka's name for him.
