SOS chapter 7
Disclaimer: I don't own Ben 10. Ben is probably pretty glad of that right about now.
Glad to see you all again! Thank you all so much for the reviews. Good to see people are reading and enjoying the story. It's going to be a while before we see Gwen and Max again, because I want to explore what happened to Ben before we go back there, so bear with me. And do enjoy Ben's story, because he certainly isn't. ;)
Written to Breaking Benjamin, though I only just realized how funny that is now. And now I have to go laugh. Excuse me.
The amazing lobo solitario drew a picture of fifteen-year-old Ben from this story. It's a fantastic picture, so come and check it out. Just remove the spaces. and the brackets. (h)(t)(t)(p)(:) / / imm . io / HK Uh
"Your home will always remain, no matter where your travels take you. So when you watch the light-years fall beneath your feet, remember your home, even if you never return."
Ceremonial words said at every Nesdreth's coming of age.
Four Years Ago
Insolent. Ben was so insolent. It used to infuriate Vilgax. Well, it still irritated him. The human knew how to get under his skin. The child's casual tone, almost innocent, always seemed a personal insult. It was as though he were disregarding the seriousness of the situation. It felt like he was being disrespected, and Vilgax could never tolerate disrespect.
However, now there was a difference.
It was strange to think that his enemy was here, on his ship; in his power. He had chased the child for so long, and had believed that the only way it would ever end was when one of them died. But Ben's death, he had discovered, would only mean that he, Vilgax, would have lost and Asmuth, the old fool, would have won after all.
Vilgax opened the door to his private room. He walked inside and closed the door, inhaling deeply of the moist. Even through his mask, the air smelled fresher than what pumped through the rest of his ship. His skin felt cleaner, always, in his personal appartments. Perhaps he should go to the infirmary and ask what his Miertoh had found out about Ben. There were also several small matters around the ship that he should see to, but first, Vilgax felt that he needed a moment alone. They were still a few days away from Cortestor, and until they arrived, Vilgax wasn't certain how much he should tell his captive. He had intended to say nothing, but he had not anticipated how quickly Ben would deteriorate with nothing to do in his small room. He had nothing to do but think, and his thoughts would not be pleasant.
Would it be better to tell Ben something of why he was here, or to say nothing? Would telling him only increase his anxiety? The truth was that Vilgax had very little experience in this kind of endeavor. He ruled on Xentrex because he was the strongest and the best suited to the position of Warlord. He was ruthless when he needed to be and a skilled tactician, but this was a delicate operation and he had no one to advise him on it. Perhaps he should improvise some training for the remaining three days. If nothing else, it would give Ben something else to think about, and it might even set a precedent for the rest of the training.
His tentacles flexed in decision. Yes, that was what he would do. But first he would relax for a few minutes. The Warlord of Xentrex could afford that much. After that, he would visit Ben once again.
Atron placed the tray of samples back in its case and closed the lid. He always kept everything in his infirmary in perfect order. It was a comfort to him, out here on a ship hurtling through deep space, that he always knew exactly where to find his medical data records, and that the antibacterial patches were kept in the bottom left cupboard, below the scanner and bandages. Anything could happen in space, but no matter what happened, Atron was ready for it within these clean, ordered rooms. All of the medics under him had quickly learned that if you misfiled a report or failed to properly store even one kriisto-jumper, you would be let off without pay on the next available planet, no matter how hospitable.
Atron Vamis had been Miertoh on the Antarasin for eight standard years. Some would say, and Atron would agree, that Miertoh was one of the most important posts on a ship that was intended for deep space travel. The engineers and pilots were naturally important to keep the ship smoothly functioning in the absence of any repair stations, and it was the Miertoh's duty to provide the same service to the ship's crew, passengers and even the warlord himself. Atron had been trained extensively in the best facility in the known galaxy and he had been the top of his class.
This, of course, was the reason he was here. Vilgax sought out the best, always, and Atron could say with certainty that he was one of the very best in his profession.
And after so long on the Antarasin, Atron had become intimately familiar with the vessel and most of its crew. Yet, still he knew very little about the warlord. Vilgax was very private, and he shared only as much of his plans with the crew as they needed to know. Atron did not require knowledge of battle operations, save how many new patients he would have and how many repairs were required. Many beings would open up to a medic, finding it a distraction from the pain of their wounds or the fear they sometimes felt. Vilgax was not one of these beings. He relied on his crew as on no other beings, but he was close to no one. In all his time as the Antarasin's Miertoh, Atron had never seen Vilgax open up to anyone.
Atron crossed back to his desk and picked up the data pad lying on its top, gently tapping its screen with one slender finger and bringing the screen to life. This was his private data pad and, in addition to his personal medical resources, it held one of his few indulgences. As he accessed the correct section, Atron's thoughts flickered back to the young human Vilgax had brought to see him. He had never treated a human before, but he naturally had some knowledge of the species, and the human he had seen today was very young; pre-puberty. Atron was not privy to the Warlord's activities, but it had been obvious from the human's posture and facial expressions that he was here against his will. Atron was not particularly naïve and he knew that this was a war, but on Slarssara children this human's age were protected and taught by the entire Slarssan society. To even think of one being willfully harmed was painful. It was…jarring.
Atron was not naïve. He knew that this child would be lucky if Vilgax merely killed him.
The Miertoh sighed and dismissed the thoughts from his mind. This was not rheesa va sairness (1), as his old guild-mistress would say. Selecting the file he wanted, Atron leant back slightly in his chair and closed his eyes as the euphonious strains slid over him like a sun-touched breeze back on Slarssara. His head swayed slightly at the end of his long neck as though it were caught in a gentle underwater current and he felt himself slipping away from this room and this life and into the ever-changing landscape the music was constructing for him. How could he ever feel separated from home when he could simply reach out and touch its most exquisite creation? He relaxed and let the music carry him home, far across the stars.
Ben was hungry. He was hungry, but he didn't want to eat. Although, he reflected, it would be easier to ignore his hunger if there was literally anything else to do in this stupid room. He hadn't touched the cover on the copper coloured dish, but he couldn't help casting it a glance every now and then.
It had been several hours, probably, since Vilgax had left him alone once again in the cell, and Ben was fighting a serious case of boredom. Never having been captured and left by himself for this long before, Ben had had no experience in how boring captivity could be. Frightening, yes. Filled with desperate escape plans, yes. Boring, no. He remembered the time he had gone to the Millbrook City Zoo on a school trip. He had been disappointed that most of the animals, particularly the big cats who should have been the most exciting thing he had ever seen, had simply been lying around in the sun as if they could barely summon enough energy to yawn.
That's what he felt like right now; a prisoner with no way to escape, and too bored to keep trying.
At first, he hadn't even been hungry.
When Vilgax had first returned him to his cell, Ben had felt no hunger, only a dead kind of desperation; a quiet but persistent tight feeling in his chest. He was starting to really hate this room. He had first thought about trying to pry the door handle off again, but the ache in his hands had given him pause. He had hurt them without even really noticing. He examined the handle he had been working on, and saw that it was only slightly loose, if that. There seemed to be a little more give in its movements when he wiggled it back and forth, but that might only be his imagination. He didn't start to feel the hunger until the boredom set in.
His stomach rumbled as though on cue, and Ben exhaled, annoyed. He wasn't sure why he didn't want to eat. Aside from the fact that his meal yesterday might have been drugged, which he wasn't certain of, he didn't really have a reason to avoid the almost-food provided for him. And since he hadn't even lifted the cover of the latest offering, he had no idea what Vilgax had given him for 'breakfast.' Probably not eggs and bacon, but it likely wouldn't be worse than last night's meal. Yet he couldn't bring himself to eat it.
He tilted his head back slowly, took in the high, bare expanse of the ceiling. He supposed, in the end, that he just didn't want to eat because that was what Vilgax wanted him to do. It was something he could choose not to do, despite his overbearing captor. Wow, that reason sounded…a little stupid when he voiced it to himself. He shoved it away angrily. He could always decide to eat in a little while. The food would still be here after all.
And so would he.
What time would it be back on Earth?
Ben leant back against same wall he had leant against several times today. He tilted his head backward and looked up at the ceiling.
Of course, he didn't even know what time it was here, but he felt like it was at least noon. If it was the same time on Earth, then he had been gone for almost a whole day. His parents must be frantic. Come to think of it, half the town had seen Vilgax capture him and drag him off in his stupid red and black space ship, so they would have been frantic right off the bat. What had Grandpa Max told them? Or had he told them anything? There was nothing he could say that would be likely to reassure them. 'Of course Ben fights aliens; he's been doing it all summer. The one who captured him is called Vilgax and he just wants to brutally cut Ben's arm off to get the incredibly powerful alien device on his wrist.'
Ben let his head thunk back against the wall. How would his parents react? His dad was always telling him to take responsibility, but he probably meant something more along the lines of mowing the lawn or cleaning up his room. And his mom had told him several times to make more friends, meet new people and go places, but she probably didn't mean anything like this either. What would they think? What were they thinking right now?
They wouldn't think that he was…
No. He shook the thought away. Grandpa Max would reassure them, somehow. And then he and Gwen would come after him.
How far away from Earth had Vilgax traveled? He assumed they were traveling anyway. He couldn't feel anything, but presumably Vilgax lived on some alien planet when he wasn't just creepily orbiting Earth.
Ben's legs were getting tired, but he didn't want to sit down again, so he paced instead. Back and forth from the wall to the door to the bed to the bathroom and back again. He was thirsty as well as hungry, so he went into the washroom and drank from the sink. The water still tasted just as sweet and he took a long drink. Afterward, his stomach felt almost bloated, but still empty. He probably wouldn't feel this hungry if the food wasn't just sitting there staring at him. He wished there was a garbage can he could stuff it into.
A noise outside the door caught his attention. Who would it be this time, drones with more food or his apparently very attentive captor? Ben closed the bathroom door and stood waiting with his arms crossed. He knew he couldn't do anything to whoever came in, but it never hurt to pretend.
The door slid open, revealing Ben's least favorite person. Great. Did Vilgax have absolutely nothing else to do on this ship, or had he actually missed him. The alien's face was expressionless as usual, but he somehow gave the impression of being annoyed. The tentacles around his face twitched now and then, almost like a nervous tick. Despite himself, Ben took a step back, hands falling to his sides. Vilgax looked…really scary. Vilgax drew himself up and stared at the human through eyes that seemed more like slits of fire.
"What are you playing at child?" Vilgax asked in a voice like distant thunder.
"Um…nothing at the moment." Ben replied uncertainly. What was Vilgax talking about? Ben hadn't been doing anything. He was physically prevented from doing anything because of this stupid collar. All he was doing was sitting here wishing he could do something. At this thought Ben straightened up slightly. "Take this thing off me," he said quietly. "And then you can see me play."
Vilgax made a sound that was somewhere between a growl and snort, but he seemed merely annoyed now rather than furious, and his tentacles ceased their twitching.
"You need nourishment" he said, back in the familiar rasping growl. The alien glanced meaningfully down at the untouched dish. "Eat. Or must I command you to do that as well?"
He left the room without another word and without waiting for a response, closing the impregnable door behind him. Ben stared after him. For a moment, he had thought that Vilgax could not make him feel more helpless than he already did.
"You were wrong though, weren't you?" he said to no one. Then, slowly, he crossed to where the copper container still lay and lifted the lid.
(1) Something that I cannot alter (The implication is that it should therefore not worry me).
Hope you enjoyed.
I've been taking lots of liberties with Ben's universe, as you've no doubt noticed. I changed the name of Vilgax's home world because I didn't like that it was named after him. Sorry if anyone's annoyed at me for that one. You'll hear more about the politics of Xentrex later in the story.
I got my idea for the Miertoh treating both flesh and mechanical damages from Dust Traveler's excellent Invader Zim fic "Going On", in which medics both heal patients and repair and maintain machinery. And I think the point is equally valid when there are so many different life forms, many of whom are partly or wholly mechanical.
And yes, I realize that there are different time zones on Earth, but these are Ben's thoughts and by 'Earth', he really means 'in Bellwood'.
Once again, it's Vilgax who's causing me trouble. I hope his scene came out alright.
Feel free to review if you are so inclined. And if you haven't checked out the picture linked above, you really should.
See you next time!