Chapter 8

"You have not been very cooperative with us, Commander."

He looked up to see Penal Complex Commandant Patrac wearing his brown Spectran uniform. The Commandant was pacing back and forth across the small stone cell, his brown shoes slamming onto the floor with every step. He glared at his prisoner with unconcealed malice.

"We have tried everything we know how to get you to talk to us." Patrac growled. "Yet still you refuse to speak!"

Mark winced inwardly, his body aching from the many methods of 'persuasion' that the Commandant had personally used. The Spectran Empire wasn't known for its kindness to prisoners, especially prisoners of war, and Mark suspected that the brutal questioning sessions he had been subjected to were only the beginning of his ordeal.

And yet, the Commander refused to give in to his captors' demands. Not one word had left his lips since the day he had awoken to find himself in this Spectran Penal Complex.

Once it had become clear that the Snakeheads were certain of his G-Force identity, Mark had not uttered one sound, knowing that doing so would only be the first step in having his resistance torn away, bit by bit. He had to remain silent.

He had to remain silent to protect his Team.

During the battle with the Pterodactyl mecha over France, it had seemed in the heat of the moment that the rest of the G-Force Team had perished. And yet, the Commander had seen every one of them escape from worse situations before. Why, he himself was still alive, despite his hotheaded kamikaze attack on the mecha that had been more characteristic of the tempestuous Condor than of the level-headed Eagle.

If his Team was alive, then his comrades had executed Command Code 3210, and didn't know who they truly were. That was their greatest protection, and yet, if Mark gave in… if he unintentionally divulged anything about their identities… They would have no chance if the Spectrans found them now.

As their Commander, he had to do everything he could to protect them.

The Commandant had done his best to convince the Eagle that his teammates were dead, to the point of showing Mark the footage of the Phoenix exploding in battle over and over, as well as the destruction of the other G-Machines. It was getting more and more difficult for the Commander to maintain his composure as he was forced to watch these graphic images time and time again. Logic told him that the Commandant wouldn't be so interested in the other members of the G-Force Team if the Spectrans were truly convinced that they were dead. But in the face of the constant physical, mental, and emotional torture that the Eagle was being forced to endure, that kind of calm and rational thought was becoming more and more difficult to hold onto.

But he had to hold on.

Outwardly, he maintained a calm, stoic exterior, but inwardly, cracks were beginning to appear. Mark didn't know how much more of this he could take.

Where was the Federation? From the offhand comments made by a couple of his guards, Mark had deduced that he was still on Earth. The knowledge that the Spectrans were holding him on the planet he considered his home was terrifying. Had Zoltar managed to take over the entire Earth? Or was Mark just being held on some kind of secret base that had not yet been discovered by Galaxy Security?

Deep in his heart, the Commander knew that when his Team… when he… had failed to protect the Earth, the Spectrans had won.

He had to escape.

Not only was it becoming more difficult to resist the Commandant's 'questioning', but Mark had to find his teammates. He needed to help the Federation citizens on Earth recover from this disaster that had befallen them.

Except, he was being held under constant guard. At least a dozen soldiers stood outside the only door to his cell, which had been carved out of solid rock. He was constantly restrained at his wrists, forearms, ankles, and thighs, with reinforced drithinium latches. Even his Cerebonically-enhanced strength was unable to break these bonds, and without the benefit of his Birdstyle he was unable to access any of the tools he normally took for granted.

At least he was no longer naked. Although his head had been shaved, his body was now regularly dressed in a bright red prison uniform with five small white stars embroidered over his heart. Commandant Patrac often sneered that such a high 'rank' was an honor, but Mark didn't see how this 'honor' did anything but make his captivity more miserable. The Spectrans didn't trust him enough to even allow him to eat, as that would require loosening his restraints. Instead, he was hooked up to an intravenous drip once a day, which sustained his physical body in the most minimal fashion. As for waste elimination, that involved personal indignities that Mark didn't even like to think about. It was all part and parcel of being a 'high ranking' prisoner of the Spectran Empire.

There was one question burning in the Commander's mind, but at the same time he was afraid to ask it, for fear of what the answer might be. Of course, his self-imposed silence meant that he would never give voice to his query and simply request the information he wanted to know, but that day, the Commandant seemed to instinctively zero in on the issue that had been plaguing the Eagle's mind.

"Since you will not speak with me, perhaps you will speak with someone else." Patrac smirked. "I understand that Lord Zoltar is a very engaging conversationalist."

The Commander felt a chill run through him, Perhaps it had been egotistical on his behalf, but he had wondered why the Leader of the Spectran Empire had not yet come to gloat over his 'high ranking' prisoner. It had been some time since Mark had been captured, although how long he couldn't exactly say, since day and night were indistinguishable for him in his windowless rock cell.

"I see that this piece of news doesn't inspire you to share any more with us than you already have." the Commandant sneered. "But do not worry. You will talk, and soon."

A nasty smile stretched across Patrac's lips, and although the Commander did not show it, the Commandant's expression had its intended effect upon its recipient.

Mark was afraid.

88888

They had been back on Riga for about two weeks. Mark was speaking with Chief Anderson about a change in the G-Force Team's training routine. The pair was just discussing the need for more combat exercises when the Chief received an audio notice of an incoming high priority transmission.

"Stay where you are, Commander, and don't make a sound!" the Chief barked out suddenly. The Eagle was shocked by Anderson's unexpectedly sharp tone, but instinctively obeyed. He was seated in front of the Chief's desk, unable to see the communications monitor that was facing Anderson. Yet the Commander immediately recognized the voice coming from the transmission.

"Greetings, Chief Anderson."

"Zoltar." the Chief responded coldly, ignoring the Spectran Leader's attempt at false pleasantries. "It has been some time since I have heard from you."

"Yes." Zoltar commented in a distasteful tone. "As I'm sure you can imagine, I've had many demands on my time."

"Yes, I would expect that the liberation of Earth has caused you a number of problems." Anderson replied smugly.

"Liberation!" Zoltar snorted. "Do you really call it a 'liberation' when the people of Earth are suffering, and all because of your heartless actions?"

"I would hardly call it 'suffering', Zoltar." Anderson spoke calmly. "The people of Earth are quite happy to be free of Spectran rule, I assure you."

"You are terribly misinformed, Chief Anderson." Zoltar said smoothly. "Are you actually so ignorant of the health crisis that exists among the citizens of Earth?"

"There is no health crisis on Earth." the Chief stated firmly.

"If you choose not to believe it, do you truly expect that it will cease to exist?" Zoltar laughed cruelly. "Well then, know this. When you finally agree with me that the children of Earth have suffered enough, you may accept our generous offer."

"And what offer is that?" Anderson asked in an irritated fashion.

"Surrender the Earth back to us, and we will distribute the medicine your citizens require."

The communication was terminated before the Chief could respond.

"What health crisis is he talking about?" Mark asked curiously.

"I don't know." Anderson replied, a worried frown on his face. "But I'll tell you this much. I know enough about Zoltar to understand that this was no empty threat. He truly believes that there is some problem for which we will require his 'medicine'."

"Then we need to find out what it is, and procure some of this medicine for ourselves." the Eagle replied.

"My thoughts exactly." the Chief concurred. "Commander, update your Team and remain on alert. I'll contact the officials on Earth."