Again another 'interim' chapter whilst I battle with writer's block. I know you are all wondering what is going on with Charley and Kalis - be patient, it's coming!
Chapter 21. Silence.
She had been gone for hours now. Several, in fact, and for much longer than normal. It always made him nervous when she wasn't around, and not only that but lonely too. The intense quiet was almost painful, an emptiness not just affecting his auditory senses but deeper inside as well. Sensory deprivation for the body and soul. After spending most of his life surrounded by noise of some sort or other, whether it be the thronging masses of his own kind, or the bumbling idiocy of his henchmen, being left somewhere where the only sounds came from the cell next door, and rarely anything beyond, was a torture all in its own right.
The Earth woman. His only source of entertainment, or companionship. Oh how much he missed her when they took her away, and how relieved he felt when they returned her to her cell. For some reason, today, this period of solitude had been dragging on for far longer than normal, which made him somewhat curious... and also, he would admit, a little scared.
It had been over a month since he himself had been returned to the prison, and with the rich supply of nutrition constantly being supplied to him he had regained his health with almost unimaginable speed. So, whilst part of him was anxious about the fate of his neighbour, the rest of him was extremely concerned about his own future.
Any day now they'll be coming for me, he thought to himself more and more as time passed by. There was little he could do though, other than pray these extended periods on his own meant that Charley was getting somewhere with her rescue plan.
She had told him in their roundabout fashion of using fairy tale code that she had, she thought, had a breakthrough in 'contacting' her alter ego. She was hoping to somehow gain enough control of the Martian General's body to organise a rescue mission. Apparently her other self was putting up quite a bit of resistance. And the recollection of her time spent in this other persona was getting less and less distinct.
Limburger pressed his rubber face against the bars between their cells and sighed. The chances of them ever getting out of here were slowly diminishing, and with that any hope of him not having to go through a second round of brooding. The woman had promised to do everything in her power to not let him suffer again, but what could she do, really?
If only humans possessed some kind of secret power to blast open Plutarkian glass steel, then we might be getting somewhere.
When the pair of them got bored with fairy tales they sometimes indulged in super hero fiction.
However, as neither of them had the strength to rip open their containments, they were stuck to the old fashioned method of actually using their brains. Charley had plenty of those, so the Plutarkian was quite happy to let her work out the details, whilst he provided what he considered valuable intel on his species security protocols. When the headaches were at their worst the woman accused him of picking holes in her ideas. But it was no good him keeping his mouth shut, for he had a vested interest in the mechanic's plans being pulled off, and he told her as much.
Or tried. Talking in riddles gave him a sore head too sometimes.
He sat there for a while on his bunk, his head resting on the steel bars, watching for any signs of the guards returning his missing neighbour. His eyes began to close, boredom and lethargy draining him of the energy to stay awake. He had just started falling into a light doze when, finally, he heard the familiar sound of footfalls and banging doors coming from the corridor.
Thank goodness for that. I...
The door to the cell block swung open and four heavily-armed Plutarkian guards swarmed into the area and towards his cell door.
Oh. Crap.
"On your feet, Limburger, hands behind your head. Now."
The fish knew better than to disobey, and rose from his bunk as ordered and stood with his fingers interlocked on the back of his skull. In seconds one of the guards was in his cell and cuffing his hands behind his back, and marching him out the door and into the corridor. His stomach was churning with fear. Today was that day, the one he had been dreading.
It didn't matter how much or how loudly he pleaded with them not to take him, they merely hit him with their weapons and forced him onwards, leading him away from the relative safety of his prison cell and to the uncertainty of the transport ship at the lower docking bay.
Once there he was loaded on board, and locked inside one of the mini cells that filled the main bay of the airship. He heard the rumbling of the engines as they powered up, then the clunk of the hanger doors locking shut, and detected the sensation of movement as the vessel departed for the mainland.
The journey only took half an hour, but every minute felt like an hour itself. The whole time the fish fought to not be sick, he was so afraid.
The ship had landed on the roof of the clinic, a specialist centre that provided care and treatment to brooding parents, as well as having an extensive research base for all matters concerning fertility in their species. The moment Limburger stepped outside he knew exactly where he was, for the familiar markings on the building's roof confirmed it.
An unwelcome familiarity. He recognised every part of the route to the impregnation ward. The sterile walls, the squeak of the tiled flooring, the smell of his species' hormones and bodily fluids. Whilst almost every other patient in this place was smiling and happy, or hopeful, he was quite the opposite. This was his own personal hell, or in the least the gates leading into it.
"Ah, Limburger, so glad to see you again – and looking so well too!" His boss was there to greet him, like last time, his whole being absolutely bursting with glee.
Seeing his subject's face so full of alarm only further added to his pleasure. Lord High Chairman Camembert simply delighted in tormenting the helpless fish. "Don't look so worried, my most unworthy of underlings, this is merely a... check-up... to see if you are fit to be honoured with bearing my next clutch of children."
Phew... just a check-up. Please don't let them think i'm ready, not yet.
The relief Limburger was displaying was obvious and Camembert grinned. He knew this punishment was by and far the most degrading of all possible sentences, and probably one of the most painful, too. And as the fish had survived the last one, it was most likely that with the right amount of care this unfortunate body could provide him with years of service as a brooding chamber.
They had led him into one of the examination rooms, and one of the nurses was busy taking readings and samples and measurements of just about everything the Plutarkian's body had to offer. Throughout the entire process Limburger kept silent, although the High Chairman more than made up for the gaps in conversation.
"You'll be pleased to hear the little ones are doing well. We've only lost two more, the remaining fry are all very strong. I think they will make great warriors when they grow up. I might even assign them to Earth, in your memory, Limburger. They will succeed where you failed i'm sure. Isn't that just wonderful news, Limburger? That you might have done something worthwhile for once? And that you will do, again, in another month's time?"
Limburger nodded, his misery and acceptance of his fate showing only in the single tear running down his masked features.
"Nurse, how is he doing? Can we proceed? As soon as possible, i'm hoping, my wife is coming up to her next cycle and I don't want to miss it."
The nurse huffed. She didn't like to be hurried in her work, not even for someone as important as their leader. "Yes, yes, he will be ready soon. But not today. He has gained plenty of weight, but the last round put a lot of stress on his body. It's no good doing it on a thin fish, he has to be carrying enough fat to keep him alive too and not just your offspring."
There was a thinly veiled implication in her words that the first brooding had been done against medical advice, and that she was none too impressed about this. Her work was her pride, and her honour, and she didn't want to tarnish the reputation of her employers either.
"I see. So, how long then?" Camembert did not like her tone of voice one bit, but kept his cool.
"Another week, preferably two. And I will need to give him a calcium booster, or his skeleton won't be strong enough to support the clutch."
Camembert scowled. "Fine... well get on with it then, my wife does not like to be kept waiting you know." Or me, you insufferable know-it-all.
The injection didn't hurt much, indeed nothing did compared to having your insides torn apart, and Limburger did not raise any objections. As far as he was concerned he had a reprieve, albeit temporary, which meant there was still time for Charley to do what she needed to do.
However, things might not be as promising as he hoped.
"I'll see you in a week, Limburger" the malodorous monarch whispered in his ear as he was led out of the clinic, "I don't care what that stuck-up nurse says, you will take my spawn when I want you to, ready or not."
Limburger paled. That time they needed was desperately short as it was, and was now rapidly decreasing. Camembert strode away chortling, leaving his subject trembling in the grip of the guards as they took him to the waiting airship.
Back in his cell once again, the fish paced the floor as he waited, anxiously, for news. Charley still had not returned and he was beginning to wonder if she would be at all.
What if they know... what if they found out what she was up to? What if they realised she had figured out what they are doing and is trying to forge a rescue attempt? Or worse... what if they've finished with her? What next, what will they do with her then?
There were so many questions buzzing around his mind, all of them worried that their only hope of escape had been taken away. There was so much going on in his brain he didn't even realise the cell block door had opened.
The limp body of his cell mate was deposited once more in her bed, and as soon as the fish had come to his senses, once the transfer guards had left, he practically threw himself onto his bunk so he could see through to the sleeping woman.
"Charley? Charley, wake up! Wake up Charley, please..."
She wasn't stirring, and he was getting more frantic.
"Charley? Charley! CHARLEY!" He bellowed through the bars and the silent guard outside must have jumped two feet from his sentry position.
"Keep it down, prisoner, or I will have no option but to make you shut up."
The guard actually spoke, and it was clear he didn't do it unless it was important. Sensing the certainty of the threat, Limburger dropped his voice to just above a whisper, still trying to get through to the unconscious form across the other side of the neighbouring cell.
"Please wake up, Charley. We... I mean I... don't have much time. In a week... they're going to do it again, i've only got a week and they... oh please Charley wake up. Wake up and... tell me a story...please..."
It wasn't working, and the fish slumped down onto his mattress and sobbed. For all he knew the woman might never wake up again, even if she was dumped back in her cell between sessions. He might not ever know if she succeeded in getting through to her alter ego, or made any headway in getting help for them. For all he knew, they might have found out what she was up to and put a stop to it. And if that was the case, then he was surely doomed. A life of servitude and suffering awaited him. And worse. A life of silence.