SOS chapter 8

Disclaimer: Ben 10 does not belong to me. Sniff…

Merry Christmas everyone!

Hi all! Hope you enjoyed the last chapter. I realize that I didn't edit it as much as I should have, but I really wanted to get it out. I should really go back over the other chapters and edit them as well.

Lobo Solitario has once again created a great picture for this story, but the account where it was posted has closed and we aren't sure where to post it now. We will figure it out, and I will post it here when we do.

But for now, here is the next chapter. Enjoy!

"All knowledge comes with a price."

- Motto of the Nostian Monks of Briste

Four Years Ago

Ben set the copper lid on the metal floor with a soft, fractured clang. He paused for a moment to suck in a deep breath and hold it, crouched with the metal cold where he knelt on the floor. He wasn't going to cry. He couldn't let himself cry. He knew he was being observed. His encounter with Vilgax just now was ample proof of that. He wouldn't let the alien know what he was feeling, even if Vilgax probably knew anyway.

He looked into the container and stared at the soft food lumps. They were different colours this time, and slightly different shapes, but they were similar enough. The last thing he wanted to do was eat them. Even his hunger had receded, leaving only a hollow, shuddery feeling deep inside him. But he knew that he was going to eat the food. He didn't have a choice.

His throat seemed to have closed in on itself, so Ben picked up the water cylinder and opened it. He took a small sip and swallowed. This water tasted faintly of lemon and it went down easily enough. He took another drink and swished it around his mouth before swallowing. It went down, but his throat still felt tight with unshed tears, leading to the hard knot that was his stomach. But he couldn't linger over the water all day, or Vilgax might come back, so he hesitantly reached into the container again and picked up one of today's selection of round spongy things. He took a bite and chewed slowly. This one tasted like a mix of boiled egg and sausage. The flavour wasn't bad, though the texture ruined it somewhat, but it wouldn't have mattered if it tasted like a turkey dinner. His throat didn't want to swallow, and the mouthful of food seemed to scrape the sides as it went down. Ben took another bite.

Vilgax swept through the corridors of his ship. The crew, sensing his mood, stayed a respectful distance to the side as he passed. When he reached his rooms once again, Vilgax paused, allowing his tentacles to lash the air in anger. He inhaled deeply, forcing himself to calm. He touched the controls and the wall screen opened up. He opened the live feed and silently watched his young captive. Ben was eating now, although he looked as if every mouthful might choke him. His jaws moved reluctantly, as though chewing their way through rubber, and when he swallowed he seemed to work at it. His body was tense and his eyes were filled with pain. Vilgax knew he had shaken the human badly. Perhaps he had been too harsh, but the boy's refusal to eat had frightened him. It had only been chance that he had decided to go back through the video archives to see whether Ben had eaten his morning meal. Now he looked back on his fear and thought that he had jumped to conclusions too quickly. Ben was only a child after all, barely more than a hatchling. Vilgax was on edge because of Azmuth, but Ben would not attempt something so drastic. Likely this had merely been another form of defiance.

Vilgax watched as Ben finished one of the items from his tray and picked up another one. He was eating more steadily now, but he looked just as shaken. Vilgax was glad that he had been able to convince Ben to eat without commanding him. And it proved that Ben was willing to obey him sometimes, if only because he hated the commands so much. Vilgax knew that the collar would be pure torture for Ben. It was a prison for his mind, and nothing was worse than that. Vilgax had not intended it to be pleasant, but even he had been surprised to see how strongly it was affecting the young human. All the more reason to provide Ben with a distraction. He would have to push the training back a little, but he could still fit a short session in today. Ben would sleep better as a result.

Vilgax dismissed the image with a word and turned away. He had some time now to find out the results of Ben's tests. He hoped the human was healthy. Grask knew how Ben would react to medical treatment.

The infirmary was quiet. One of the medics was replacing some medical supplies in their proper containers, indicating that at least one crewmember had recently visited, but there were no patients in site. Vilgax crossed the room with single-minded strides. The medic, a willowy Presseet named Nyaaks, inclined her head respectfully as he passed.

Atron was at the back of the infirmary, where the large main room divided and branched into several private alcoves. The Miertoh was standing by one of the tall cabinets in the back. He had lifted out several trays containing many small and delicate looking transparent bottles and appeared to be inspecting the liquids they contained for impurities. He carefully lifted each bottle to eye level and ran a small, handheld scanner over the outsides of each bottle. He then tilted each bottle slightly and gave it a moment of inspection with his large eyes. Vilgax was not surprised to find the Miertoh engaged thus; he worked almost constantly, leaving only a spare amount of time for sleep, food and his precious music. In fact, this zealousness was partly why Vilgax had chosen Atron for his Miertoh. The other reason was because Atron was a slarssan. Slarssara had been the second planet Vilgax had conquered, although conquered was perhaps not the most accurate word. The slarssans were very advanced and their technology was in perfect harmony with the natural areas of their planet. And they were pacifists and had been so for centuries. Vilgax knew something of their history from the archives in Varrmuuth, the planet's historical capital. During the industrial age of the slarssans their planet had been wracked with civil wars which were fairly common on most planets. The difference was that the slarssans' technology had been advancing much more quickly than their sensibilities. One of the more technologically advanced territories had conducted an offensive strike involving a weapon so devastating that the effects had never quite faded from the landscape or from the genetics of the victims. This weapon was known only as 'The Intervention' which Vilgax had found amusingly apt. The devastation and horror which had been unleashed shocked the whole planet and brought about a shuddering halt to the war. Treaties were signed and laws passed designed to prevent the disaster from ever happening again, and a cautious peace descended. However, many of those on Slarssara wondered whether this would be enough or whether greed or fear would eventually drive a nation to once again unleash the weapon, or something even more damaging, on the people of their world. Scientists across the world worked together for years to find the answer and when they discovered it it was implemented in every nation on every citizen on the planet with almost universal agreement. Those who did not wish to comply were not forced but were instead sterilized so they could not breed, and thus was a permanent peace established.

Vilgax did not know exactly what genetics had been tampered with or how and it did not matter to him. The results were before him, even centuries later. Even Vilgax needed a medic, and even he was vulnerable while being treated. That was the most important reason that Atron was here. In addition to violence, betrayal was something simply not known on Slarssara and Vilgax knew that Atron would never betray him.

As Vilgax approached, Atron paused in his inspection and uttered a soft, sweet trill, indicating that he had noticed his master but required a moment before addressing him. He carefully replaced the fragile bottle he was holding in its appropriate tray and then turned and fixed his large, dark eyes on Vilgax.

"Good day to you, lord. How may I be of service?" he always addressed Vilgax thus. Vilgax's title was 'warlord' but Atron could never bear to use it. War was abhorrent to him, and though he served Vilgax faithfully as a medic and knew that Vilgax was fighting a war, he would not speak of it. For his part, Vilgax allowed the lapse. War was an essential part of his culture and he found it amusing the extent to which a slarssan could delude himself. Still, if that was the price he paid to have Atron on his ship he would gladly pay it.

Vilgax flicked a tentacle in acknowledgment of Atron's greeting, but did not return it. He was never one for pleasantries.

"What do your tests say about the human?" he asked.

The Miertoh blinked his inner eyelids, slightly wary. He did not seem to enjoy the task he had been given. "He is perfectly healthy aside from the large quantity of sugar, salt and fat he has been ingesting recently, which I believe is the normal diet for wealthy humans."

Vilgax flicked another tentacle, in agreement this time, and took the chart that Atron held out to him, glancing over it as he did so. The recommendation at the bottom stopped him and he looked back at his Miertoh. "What is this?" he asked gruffly. Why are you advising these vaccines?"

Atron blinked again. "You are taking him to Crito-Ah, correct?" he said, and at Vilgax's sign of agreement, "That planet contains many mammalian species which may be close enough to him genetically to pass disease. It would be safest to have him vaccinated if we will be spending some time there."

Vilgax rippled his tentacles, annoyed. "Very well. How long will it take you to modify your vaccines for him?"

"I am already working on that," Atron said, not without some satisfaction. They should be ready by tomorrow morning."

Vilgax's tentacles tapped thoughtfully. "Alright," he agreed. "I will bring him down then." He gestured towards the trays of uninspected bottles. "You may continue, Miertoh."

"Thank you Lord." Atron inclined his head respectfully once more and turned back to his beloved medical supplies. Vilgax also turned away and as he strode away from the silent infirmary his tentacles twitched in annoyance. He was not looking forward to Ben's reaction tomorrow. Even when the human was so thoroughly trapped, he continued to be an aggravation.

When his door slid open again, Ben was ready. At least, he was ready for something to happen. After choking down the last of the food, Ben had tidied up the dishes as before, and then made a trip to the washroom. He had used the toilet, washed and then dragged his wet hands over his face. He thought it would help the tight, dry feeling of his eyes, and it seemed to have relieved the feeling a little.

But then there was nothing else to do, and once again Ben found himself possessed by that state he had recently discovered which was part fear and part boredom. Once again, there was nothing to do but think.

So perhaps he was almost relieved when his solitude was interrupted by that familiar, looming presence.

Vilgax was no longer angry, at least so far as Ben could tell. What one could see of his face around the breath mask he always wore was unreadable, but his tentacles lay placidly limp like the wet tights draped over Ben's mother's bathroom railing at home. Vilgax glanced around the cell, taking in the tidied dishes, the neatly made bed and Ben; the room's lone ornament.

"Follow me boy," Vilgax ordered, but Ben did not move. It came as rather a shock. He had been expecting an inexorable command, and he almost took a step forward before he realized that nothing was compelling him. He stared at Vilgax. The alien did not look surprised and he did not speak. He was waiting. The implication was obvious; Ben could obey, or he could refuse and be forced to obey anyway. Ben hesitated a moment, and then his chin came up the challenge entered his eyes.

Vilgax's eyes narrowed and several tentacles lashed briefly. Then he turned away. "Come," he said, and Ben came.

They took a different route this time, at least so far as Ben could tell from the repetitive gray metal hallways. He wondered how Vilgax knew which way to go. Maybe he had a map etched into his brain. Vilgax walked ahead once more with Ben trailing behind him, walking quickly to keep up with the alien's long strides. Had it been worth it? Ben hated this collar with a hatred so strong it made him feel sick. He hated how Vilgax's commands instantly robbed him of his free will. He hated knowing the impossibility of disobedience and he hated how he must look to the crewmembers they passed; like Vilgax's puppy probably. And yet he was still glad that he had behaved as he had back in the cell. What was the point of free will if he was just going to obey anyway? And it seemed to have annoyed Vilgax at least. It seemed as though Vilgax had been expecting him to obey and if the writhing tentacles were any indication Vilgax had not been pleased when Ben refused. Ben didn't know why Vilgax would care, or why the alien had even put the aggravating piece of metal on him in the first place if he was just going to try to get Ben to obey him without it, but seeing that reaction had been gratifying. That seemed to be what it had come down to; what could he do to push Vilgax's buttons. Not to say that he had given up all hope of escape or rescue, but he had no plans at the moment, and this was something he could do to resist as much as possible. He would probably pay for it, but just surrendering was worse.

They had been walking through identical corridors, but now Vilgax entered a comparatively small, circular room and Ben followed, feeling slightly apprehensive. As they passed through the door it slid shut behind them and the gray floor began to glow with a soft white light. A glittering array or lights flickered to life, hovering beside one of the walls and Vilgax moved one claw into the radiance, touching four of the glowing symbols in quick succession. Ben braced himself for whatever might be happening. He heard a low hum and then nothing. Ben looked quickly at Vilgax and caught the alien watching him inscrutably. He had no idea what Vilgax was thinking, but he felt a cold chill run down his spine. The door slid open again and Vilgax walked through it. As he followed, Ben did a double take and would have halted in surprise if he could have. This was a different corridor. It was wider and the usual boring gray was accented by a lighter gray stripe which ran along both walls as far as he could see. He supposed that room must be what passed for an elevator in this ship. They walked down the new corridor for a few minutes and then Vilgax halted before a wide door which slid smoothly open at his touch.

The new room was larger than any room Ben had yet seen on the ship with the exception of the cargo bay they had arrived in. It was about as large as the gym at his school, at least before a pack of explosives-happy robots had blasted a great big hole in the wall. The room was rectangular with a high ceiling and was completely empty. The only indicator that the room was even used for something was the assortment of faded scuff and scorch marks that adorned the walls and floor. The site reminded Ben uncomfortably of something but he couldn't put his finger on what. Then he remembered the bloodthirsty roar of the crowd and the smell of burning metal. The only thing missing was the gallery where the spectators stood. It was an arena.

Ben glanced at Vilgax quickly and caught the alien looking back at him out of inscrutable red eyes. The tips of his tentacles shifted and Ben looked away, letting his eyes rove over a long, wicked looking scorch mark by his left foot. Was this what Vilgax had been waiting for? Had he just been waiting, making sure Ben ate and slept so he would be fresh for some kind of gladiatorial tournament? More importantly, Ben couldn't decide if that realization made him feel frightened or relieved. He heard movement, Vilgax wasn't exactly stealthy, and looked up to see that his captor had crossed to the wall at the right of the doorway. Vilgax touched a panel on the all and the door, which had been open, slid smoothly closed.

"Manual" Vilgax said, seemingly to the wall rather than to Ben. It seemed an age since either of them had spoken, and his harsh voice sounded harsher and louder than usual in the empty room. In response, a piece of the wall detached itself and floated into his outstretched hand. Ben stared, impressed despite his situation. One side of the device was the same colour as the wall, a kind of slate gray. He couldn't see the other side clearly, as it was held above his vision level, but it seemed to involve the same hovering, multicolored lights that he had noticed in the elevator. Vilgax delicately touched the lights one by one in some combination Ben couldn't fathom, than he looked back at Ben who suddenly found he couldn't stay silent.

"What do you want?" he asked, trying to keep the helplessness from his voice.

Vilgax almost seemed to hesitate, but then he spoke. "You will train here every day. You will choose to train or you will be forced, but you will train."

Ben glared at Vilgax, confused and frightened. Well, he thought bitterly, that was sort of like an answer. Maybe I should try for one and a half for two. "Why am I training?" he asked. It was almost a demand really; he could hear it in his voice, and he knew even before he finished speaking that he wouldn't be getting an answer.

Vilgax's eyes narrowed and he seemed to flick something on the device he held with one claw. A round circle in the floor opened up, the edges splitting and sliding smoothly into the sides. The hole was about the size of a small, circular room and it gaped like a surprised mouth. Through it rose a platform containing fifteen robots similar to those Ben had grown used to seeing, but bulkier.

"So I guess that means you're not going to answer me," Ben stated, more to himself than his captor.

Vilgax's tentacles made that rippling motion again. "Morph," he ordered, and the robots began to advance on Ben.

Ben swallowed the next remark he'd been about to say and took a step back, touching the button on the omnitrix and twisting it deftly. He didn't wait for Vilgax to give him an inexorable command. He wasn't sure why, though perhaps it was partly that he just really felt like hitting something right now. He slapped his palm down on the omnitrix and was blinded by the familiar flash of green light as he felt his body twist and contort. He landed on all fours and pounced on the nearest robot, sinking tough, sharp fangs into red metal and ripping. He didn't stop to wonder why he had chosen Wildmut, but if he had, perhaps he would have thought again about those lions in the zoo. Then again, perhaps he wouldn't have.

Hope you enjoyed.

Yay, more about Atron! I've been having quite a brainstorm concerning the Slarssans and their planet. I know their culture, history and even what their cities and planet look like. I would love to draw some pictures of Atron and the planet if I could draw. I may eventually make an effort anyway. Unfortunately, I don't think we'll get to visit Slarssara in this story. There are too many beings around for Vilgax to bring Ben there, among other reasons. However, we will likely see more of them when I write my other Ben 10 story (featuring Ben and Reinrassic III chiefly). That won't happen for a while, but it will happen.

I will be uploading a more carefully edited copy of this chapter in a couple of days.

In the meantime, expect a chapter from either "Memories Make Us" or "Loving You Behind Closed Doors" and then another chapter from this story.

Thanks for reading!