Chapter Ten
Psychocrystal Netherworld
170-2105
Zachary Foxx was talked out. The words that he had traded with RGelio were less than satisfying, and he really wasn't in the mood to contemplate what the Rymean had insinuated, a rift in the alliance of the League of Planets, impossible; wasn't it?
He sat inanimately watching the violet-red haze swirl around him; his mind tried to find a mechanism that made some sort of order from the chaotic fog to give him a direction to pursue. He wanted, no needed, action, something to do. To his right, he saw RGelio stiffen suddenly.
"RGelio?" Foxx questioned breaking the silence as he saw the male fade out of existence for a moment before becoming solid again.
"Did you feel that?" RGelio asked dazedly. He had yet to regain color to his fur, which had blanched to an almost white.
"Feel what?" Zachary asked.
"K'Lea, she's haunting me even now. I am cursed," the Rymean muttered as he felt the world shift around him and his senses burn with intimate familiarity.
"Who?" Zachary tried again and then stopped. He had the sudden sense of someone searching for him. "Eliza?" he breathed hopefully as the tenuous connection strengthened. He felt the reassuring impression of safety, comfort. A slight golden form of a woman stood before him. "Eliza," he called again standing quickly trying to make physical contact with the apparition. But, the image vanished before he could reach her.
"No, not Eliza," RGelio clarified looking strangely at the human captain. "S'Kara. You saw her?"
"Yes, I mean no," Zachary answered trying to place the vague awareness of the essence that he had witnessed. "I saw something, someone; I thought it was my wife, but…"
"You did see her," RGelio countered. "S'Kara's ghost was here. But, why would she torment you?"
"It wasn't S'Kara, and it definitely wasn't a ghost" Zachary asserted.
"I know what I saw, what I felt," RGelio argued. "S'Kara and I have been pledged to each other since we reached our teenage years. We are both psychic; we are bonded. I know her spirit better than I know my own. It was she!"
"I won't argue with you, RGelio. We've already been down that path; we know where it leads. Your vision was different from mine although I do believe that it was a psychic communication. I think that Niko is looking for us."
"Ranger Niko?" the Rymean scoffed. "Your human doesn't have the psionic strength to make contact like this."
"She is more adept than you know. You should be happy; we may have a rescue on the way."
"Happy? I choked the life out of my mate. I watched her struggle for air as I telekinetically closed off her windpipe. I watched the life force drain from her as she slid down a wall. Happiness is not a possibility for me."
"I don't think S'Kara is dead," Zachary stated flatly.
RGelio pushed to his feet and began pacing. His body posture oozed pain and self-recrimination. "What you think, Captain, is of no consequence. I know what I am capable of doing. I have lived a life where taking another's is a means of survival. I know the exact force required to shut down bodily functions. I can make it look like someone is having a stroke or a heart attack or whatever. I am that good."
"Congratulations," Zachary replied sarcastically. "I've no doubt you have the power to match your hubris. Is it so hard for you to even allow for the possibility that my team stopped you before the fatal blow? You were struggling with yourself. I know you stepped into that laser blast. I watched you do it even as Niko deflected it from the center of your crystal."
"I know what I did." RGelio's pacing stopped, and he slumped to his knees.
"Yes, you opened the door for the Queen of the Crown to hunt your people, all of your people. You may have even opened the door for her to hunt humans more effectively. You betrayed S'Kara. Don't absolve yourself of that guilt by wallowing in grief for someone who may not be dead."
RGelio's eyes lit with a fire of anger so deeply they seemed to glow. His hands clenched in tight fists as he reigned in the urge to take action against the human. "I will pay for my actions for the rest of my existence."
Zachary unconsciously took a defender's stance as he watched the male in front of him absorb his words. While he wasn't relishing the possibility of another physical altercation, he was pleased to see some color return to the Rymean; the browns were slowly warming the grey pallor to a more healthy hue. "We can spar here for all the time we have left. We're both skilled in diplomacy and can use double-speak with the best of politicians. We both have said pretty much all that needs to be said. Yet, when I give you the possibility that we may be free from this prison, you condemn me for hope?"
"Hope," the word almost burned on his lips as RGelio repeated it. "Hope is a dangerous word, Captain."
"Yes, and it is all we have."
0945 - Asteroid 437
170-2105
Doc stumbled slightly as he grabbed the corner of a connecting wall and slowed himself to a stop. Nimrod following close behind slid to a less than graceful halt using the human's back to decelerate.
"Easy, man," Doc panted trying to catch his breath. "I said stick close, not to me."
"If you'd signal once in awhile," the Leonid huffed back, "I could follow a lot better."
"What did you think this meant?" Doc asked as he pantomimed the same few hand signals that he had performed on his way to their present location.
"Table for two in private?" Nimrod replied, his humor dying in the acidity of his tone.
Doc stared at the feline and shook his head in disgust. It was bad enough they had been on the run for over two hours. The alarm had rung out less than fifteen minutes after they had escaped the prison block. They had been hiding in the ductwork for a period of time, regrouping and observing the guards' mannerisms. Now, it was time to take what they had learned and apply it, hopefully, before Nimrod gave them away.
"On three, and try not to get us killed or at the very least thrown in the psychocrypt?" Doc growled as he waited for the two troopers in the adjoining corridor to finish their sweep and return. "One, two, three."
Coming out swinging at the guard in the lead, Doc stepped out from the relative safety of the blind corner. He had surprise on his side and managed to knockout the lead in a fisticuffs maneuver that would have made Gooseman proud. One well-placed kick in the solar plexus, where the adjoining armor had a small kink to allow for upper body movement, doubled over the guard. Two follow-up chops, neck and temple, left the guard lying prone on the ground.
As Doc rounded on his target, Nimrod followed with the second trooper. This guard had seen enough of Doc's attack to move backward and bring the ranger in line with his pulse rifle. He was in the process of pulling the trigger when a bedraggled psychedelic image of a cat-like creature jumped from the shadows. The unexpected sight caused the guard to scream in terror, his shot firing wildly in the air as he tried to get a bead on the strange beast in front of him. He didn't get a second chance.
Nimrod grabbed the rifle. Ripping the firearm from the guard and slinging it down the hall out-of-reach, the Leonid ignored the crack as the firearm broke in pieces on impact with the wall. He was too intent on his prey. One sharp clip and the guard's chin-piece anchoring his helmet to his head fractured causing the apparel to crash to the floor. A widely spread hand raked sharp claws down the side of the guard's face bringing five sickly, green lines oozing in its wake.
Doc watched horrified as Nimrod continued to attack his target. The man had lost consciousness during the assault, yet Nimrod continued to ply fists and claws into the body. The sheer savagery of the attack was in direct contrast with what the Galaxy Ranger knew of the two-bit con.
"You want to add murder to the charges against you?" Doc asked grabbing a bloodied fist in two of his hands to keep the Leonid from continuing his attack.
"Might be worth it," Nimrod hissed losing what was fueling his feral rage and wrenching himself from Hartford's grasp.
Doc studied the male as his breathing slowly returned to a normal cadence. "I wouldn't bet on that. You just got out of one prison. Do you really want to put yourself back into another one?"
Nimrod didn't make a verbal reply, but he did a nudge-kick at the battered trooper. A soft moan rewarded his effort. "He's still breathing."
"Yeah, assault with intent to kill is a much better charge." Doc replied sarcastically starting to move one of the troopers out of direct sight.
"I'm sure that a good lawyer would argue that it was self defense," Nimrod continued mimicking the relocation of his guard to Doc's. "In fact, Ranger, you'd have to testify to that. In case you've forgotten, that guard was going to fire on you. I saved your sorry hide. And, in case it has escaped your very keen observation, that blast mark on the ceiling is not the residue of heavy stun. That is a shoot to kill scorch mark."
Doc glanced at the mark above his head. Rather than belabor a point that was mostly in Nimrod's favor, he changed topics. "Speaking of sorry hides," he began loosening the armor of his guard. "I think it is about time that we cover yours with something a little less revealing."
"Yes, because fur is so much more conspicuous than the white and blues of a Galaxy Ranger uniform."
-----------------
After binding the guards securely and concealing them in what appeared to be a utility closet, Ranger Walter Hartford and Nimrod in Crown uniforms headed out of their alcove. "We need to find a communication console. I don't think that two against the entire Crown forces with the added Rymean slaverlords will be a fair fight. It is obvious that the Queen is more interested in our carcasses than her crypt."
"And, I thought that the Queen valued humans," Nimrod baited.
"She used to until your cousins gave her a taste of the Rymean life-force."
"Cousins, thrice removed and sharing a very limited DNA. Leonids don't make very good psychocrystal fodder."
"You're only proving my point. With her pens full of Rymeans, we are no longer a commodity."
"Ursa's nose, this uniform chafes and smells bad to boot. Don't these Crown dudes ever bathe?"
"Quit your complaining," Doc ordered. "The alternative is much worse than stench and a tight fit. We're lucky that Crown security appears to be downsized. You've been here the longest. Do you know where we even are? This doesn't look like her high and mighty's main base of operations."
"It isn't. I vaguely remember being transferred to a Crown Destroyer and moved here. I think that this is an off-planet base of operations. When we were on Arkansas2 arranging for a starstone supply contract, I heard scuttlebutt about another asteroid base closer to League space. I guess that the Queen prefers a tried and true method."
"You'd think she would tire of being so predictable," Doc agreed and saw another pair of guards heading down the hallway toward them. "Show time."
Lowering their heads slightly, Doc and Nimrod passed by the two other guards with no notice. They were about to round the corner, when one of the troopers they had just passed stopped them. "Hold," the gravelly voice ordered.
Sucking in a breath, Doc carefully turned to the speaker. "Yes sir," he answered back hoping his voice sounded more like an agent of the Queen than that of a human.
"Report."
"Section secure," Doc continued feigning a calm concise report in contrast to his sweating forehead and pounding pulse. "There are no signs of the human or Leonid."
"Their status has been downgraded; the timetable is being stepped up. Report to the galley for a five minute recharge and proceed to sector L15."
"Yes sir," Doc agreed and dutifully acknowledged the trooper with a quick salute. He recognized the stripe badge decorating the speaker as a rank that was deserving of Crown tribute.
"Carry on," the other trooper dismissed them and continued in the direction that he had been heading.
"The galley," Nimord practically danced in delight. "That means food."
"Not so fast," Doc warned as the feline began to outpace him. "We need to get to that communication console first."
Nimrod's body posture slumped in dismay. "Do you have any idea how long it has been since I've eaten?"
"Over four hours ago and you polished off my bowl as well."
"Not that disgusting stuff. I mean real food."
"Communications first, food later," Doc repeated and stopped outside a massive door leading to another passageway.
"If we find the galley first, Ranger, all bets are off." Nimrod's scowl was barely visible through the patched face shield. "I have a hierarchy of needs you know," he continued as he pushed open the door and stepped through the barrier.
Doc followed him without reply. If the gentle circuitry humming in the room were any indication, they would be dispatching a communiqué to BETA within minutes.
Or, not. Nimrod and Doc surveyed the gigantic room rising around them. It resembled a library with large box cases stacked next to and on top of each other; a built in staircase that could traverse the upper shelves was pushed off to the corner. An overall reddish hue radiated through the room making the quiet whirs and hisses of computer diagnostic machines even more eerie.
"Holy shit!" Nimrod yelped as he inadvertently backed into a case and activated the mechanism to retrieve the contents. A reposed Rymean body encased in a red capsule slid from its housing. Lights on the exterior of the case displayed cardiac, respiratory, and brain functioning in green and golden tones. "This isn't the galley."
"Nor is it a communication console. Welcome to the crypt part of the psychocrypt." Doc looked carefully at the comatose figure residing in the life support pod that Nimrod had activated. The computer indicated fairly stable vital signs and almost absent brain function. "Do you recognize him?"
With a mixture of disgust and awe shining in his eyes, Nimrod looked at the body more closely. "No."
"Me either." Doc carefully slid the case back into its hold. He examined the other rows and columns and continued. "By my count, there must be over two hundred active stasis pods. The Queen has been busy."
"But what about those over there," Nimrod asked pointing to a wall empty of all pod cases.
"Waiting for more?" Doc guessed.
"Lovely," Nimrod snorted.
"Indeed," Doc agreed, "we need to get moving. If these…" Hartford stopped when his eyes caught sight of a very familiar head of hair, human hair. Quickly, he activated the apparatus to view the contents. "Zachary," he breathed not quite willing to believe.
"Yes," Nimrod agreed with more empathy than Doc thought the Leonid possessed. "And, next to him, is RGelio. What do we do?"
Doc slammed the pod back into the wall. "There is nothing we can do. Without the other halves of their crystals, we can't bring them back. We have to get word out to BETA. With the number of active pods, the Queen must have an army of slaverlords, most of them powerful psychics to boot."
"Which means?" Nimrod asked following the human's path back through the room.
"Human slaverlords are powerful. The Queen said that it only takes one to make a 'perfect' specimen. Now, she's found the Rymeans. Apparently, one makes a perfect specimen as well. Add to that specimen telekinesis or pyrokinesis, and you now have a slaver with a little extra something."
"We're doomed; aren't we?"
"Let's just say the odds are definitely stacked against us. We need to find that communication room, now. If the Queen gets off base with even a few of these super-powered slavers, there will be no stopping her.
"Our little break out did little to alter the usual operations of this base. There are only a few more guards, and security seems to be only slightly elevated. Heck, the lieutenant said that our status as escaped prisoners was downgraded. About the only thing we have going for us is the Queen's continued arrogance. She has never put much stock in the Galaxy Rangers even if we have thwarted her efforts time and again. Her refusal to grant our escape status may be the one thing that brings her down."
"Let's see, a human and a Leonid, can't see why she doesn't take us seriously," Nimrod glowered. "Especially when she has a few hundred slavers at her disposal. Did you ever consider that this is a trap? Bring BETA's first line here, and leave Earth less than protected?"
"That, my dear Nimrod, is the chance we have to take."
1115 - Asteroid Field of Remus/Uncharted Territory Line
170-2105
Ranger Gooseman finished the message and dispatched it via beacon to the relay transit satellite orbiting Ryman IV. Their route from the doomed Rymea to the Asteroid Field of Remus had them entering the belt on the Uncharted Territory side. That placed them very far from the nearest communication satellite.
Gooseman quickly calculated the response time in his head. Given their distance from the relay, it would take at the very least an hour or so before the transmission would be intercepted, and then several more minutes before it would be sent on to Commander Walsh. Since the last Series Five transmission had been more than 24 hours ago, protocols would have a tactical response mobilized. However, a lead time of several additional hours would be expected before backup forces could be within striking distance of the Queen's base of operations, wherever that was.
Disengaging the autopilot, Gooseman began navigating the small ship through the asteroids littering the space prior to the main field. While the nav computer would be able to steer through the field, Gooseman felt the need for stealth.
"We're going to have to wake her soon," S'Kara gently reminded him.
"I know," Gooseman replied and glanced at Niko's sleeping form curled up like a cat in one of the forward chairs.
"May I?" S'Kara requested.
Goose hated the idea of rousing her. This was the first time since this mission started, since before this mission started, that Niko had actually slept. But, she was their only link to Zachary, RGelio, and most likely the Queen. Hesitantly, he nodded his consent and then remembering that S'Kara was still blind answered verbally, "Yes."
Throughout Niko's slumber, S'Kara had been sending bioscalar energies through their still viable rapport. At first, she wasn't sure if the ranger had even received the ministrations. Niko's aura, even in rest, had reeled and churned with a myriad of colors, none of which could be characterized as healthy or even stable. As Niko's sleep deepened, her aura had manifested in an unconscious transference of chaotic thoughts and what could best be characterized as nightmares.
During that tumultuous seepage of unshielded psychic energy, S'Kara had redoubled her efforts. Since the shields that the psychic ranger usually held so tightly were weakened, S'Kara had a much easier time transversing the bond into the ranger's mind. She had met some resistance but soothed the barriers with green healing energies and had promised to go no deeper. After a few moments, Niko's whole psychic demeanor had changed and settled into a rest of regeneration absent of dream or thought.
Using the same technique of color to communicate with Niko, S'Kara sent waves of indigo, lavender, and light blue through their shared bond and then brightened and intensified the hues to magenta, quartz, and silver. Niko stirred from her position and pulled herself upright. Yawning, she stretched one arm over her head to alleviate the strain on her spine that her unusual sleeping position had instilled. During the stretch, full consciousness hit her, and she remembered where she was as well as why her other hand was bound from moving. Her arm dropped to her side, and she glanced at S'Kara.
"How long have I been out?" she asked her mouth feeling as if she were talking through cotton.
She reached for her water ration and swallowed as S'Kara answered, "About six hours."
"What!" Niko growled and swung accusing eyes in Gooseman's direction. "I thought we agreed to a couple of hours each."
S'Kara felt the tension in the small cockpit rise and refrained from commenting that she had taken her two hour increment.
"You and S'Kara agreed," Gooseman shrugged his shoulders in dismissal. "We're in the outskirts of the asteroid field. Where to?"
Niko knew better than to belabor a point for which Shane held no remorse especially a point in which he were correct in making. Momentarily scrubbing her good hand across her face, she reached into the makeshift sling and withdrew a folded sheath of fabric. Opening the protective layer of cloth, she selected Zachary's gem and held it gently. Closing her eyes, she searched for the psychic reverberations that were her captain.
"There," she pointed at the view screen. "Head into the center of the field."
Gooseman altered their heading and followed Niko's directions. He was careful to keep their small ship concealed by using some of the smaller asteroids as a cloak as they made their way deeper into the field of spiraling boulders.
"That one," Niko said a little breathlessly, "Zachary's life force is concealed in the interior."
Goose zeroed in on the asteroid in question. It was much larger than the few traveling with it. It was also covered in impact craters. He was sure that if they could get close enough they would find that one or more of those craters were ship-docking bays. "Remind you of anything?"
Niko nodded. "Just like the last time."
"Seem a little too coincidental to you?"
"Well, the Queen isn't known for her originality," Niko countered, "and, it's not like we have other options."
"True. But without Doc to talk us through security..."
S'Kara cleared her throat to remind the two rangers of her presence. "I'm not your Doctor, but I do have an idea."
Niko and Gooseman traded sheepish glances at their inadvertent exclusion of S'Kara. "It's just Doc, Ranger Hartford. He's our resident computer guru," Goose explained briefly. "Let's hear your idea."
"We are going into a Queen facility, correct."
Goose nodded, and Niko answered, "Yes."
"And we don't have the means to infiltrate the facility in this small vessel. There are no cloaking fields, no communication jamming devices, and practically no fire power."
"Correct," Gooseman replied. "This appears to be a jump ship, meant for personal travel and sometimes used for shuttling personnel between larger ships and planets. Traveling the distance from the dwarf star to our current location and adding to that our full capacity has stretched the ship to its limits. We don't have much of a choice as far as parking goes. Our energy supply will be depleted long before we turn around and head to Ryman IV or even BETA jurisdiction."
"Then let's go through the front door," S'Kara suggested.
"You want me to ram the asteroid?" the incredulity of Gooseman's voice echoed slightly in the small cabin.
"No, of course not, that would be suicide. We want to get in and rescue our people not become some weird parody of martyrs. I mean, contact the main control room and let them know we're coming."
"You want to elaborate on that?"
"Ranger Niko, how are you feeling? I get the sense that you are in better control of your psionics."
Niko looked at Gooseman who turned a degree more frustrated and probably angrier at S'Kara's deference to her before she answered, "Um, yes. I believe I am."
"Do you feel up to a ruse?"
"Go on," Niko encouraged still not following the Rymean.
"Obviously, the Queen is hunting Rymeans. We know that she successfully turned RGelio into a slaverlord. I want you to create the illusion that I am a slaverlord…"
"Are you out of your mind, lady!" Shane interrupted harshly. Both S'Kara and Niko turned to stare at him. A long minute of silence followed. Raking a hand through his sandy hair, a gesture he was beginning to associate with the fairer sex, he continued in a more reasonable tone. "Niko is a psychic not an illusionist."
Another long pause filled the cabin. This time, Gooseman recognized it as the silence of telepathic conversation. There were no gestures to go along with the communication. Only Niko's eyes belied the feelings associated with her voiceless words. "Since we're not all on the same page here," Goose hissed through clenched teeth, "how about we speak out loud." He wasn't sure if his anger were directed at S'Kara or Niko or if the feeling was only anger or a blend of several negative emotions over the clandestine conversation.
"Do you have a plan?" Niko asked him.
"We'll do what Doc did on a limited scale, no visual."
"And if that doesn't work, will you concede to S'Kara's suggestion?"
"Are you capable of projecting that kind of illusion?" Goose asked her pointedly.
"I'm not sure," Niko admitted. "If the guards on the other end are androids, we're screwed. I can only project the illusion in a sentient being's head; there are no thoughts to manipulate in a computer's brain – unless you happen to be Doc," she added with a sad smile.
"We have to land." S'Kara reminded them.
"Opening hailing frequencies now. S'Kara, you're on."
Mustering a confidence she didn't feel, S'Kara spoke loudly. "This is Rymean vessel, T'Ward Three, requesting dock for transfer of specimens."
"Asteroid 437. What is your clearance, T'Ward Three?"
Niko glanced at Gooseman and made a quick cutting motion across her throat. Goose disengaged the intercom for a moment. "They're sentient and looking for a visual. Let me try. Otherwise, our bluff is dead in the water."
Giving Niko a chance to compose herself and moving so that neither one of them could be seen on the vidscreen, Goose re-engaged full-communications. An image of a Crown Elite Trooper filled the screen in front of S'Kara.
As S'Kara continued to speak, Gooseman could hear the shrillness of her voice rise making her sound very much like the Queen. "You fools! I have two major specimens in the hold of this ship. Dock us, now!"
"Y-Your highness," the trooper stuttered. "Docking Bay 17 is clear for landing."
"Are you a complete imbecile? This slaver is blind. Guide us in and have a team meet me at the platform."
"Of course, Your Majesty. Tractor docking beam locked onto T'ward Three. Troopers dispatched to dock location, 17. Do you have any further requests?"
Gooseman cut the communications and looked from Niko to S'Kara. "Did you just send us a welcoming committee?"
"Sorry," S'Kara replied, "I had no choice. A blind Rymean slaverlord was suspicious enough. I figured, if we had a small security detail sent to the bay, we'd alleviate distrust and have a smaller contingency with which to deal."
"We need to exchange our weapons anyway," Niko sent a tentative smile to Gooseman.
Shane saw the strain lines once again pronounced clearly on Niko's face. "Can you continue the ruse when we land?"
"I will only be able to generate the manifestation for a short time. The same requirements apply, sentient beings only. If they are androids, we'll have to go directly into good old-fashioned firepower."
Gooseman fingered the triggers of the two, holstered weapons at his hips. "And, our chances of getting caught will escalate with it," Goose supplied and moved to the ship's access portal just as the vessel settled on the platform.