SOS Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own Ben 10, but even if I did, I wouldn't be mean enough to do this to him, I hope…

Welcome back!

Thank you so so much to everyone who reviewed! I sometimes worry that I spend too much time on exposition about my ocs, so it's great to hear that it is actually interesting for other people to read and not just me. ;)

I've been getting some people asking me if we are going back to the present day storyline soon, and the answer is yes. In the next chapter we will check in with everybody on that end. I'm sorry it's been such a wait. It's just that when we do go back, you will likely see some stuff from present-day Ben's point of view, and I want to explain a few things in the past before you hear them in the future. Please be patient a little longer. I promise it will be worth it.

Song recommendation for this chapter is Come Back Down by Danny Fernandes. At least for the last part.

Thank you to everyone for forgiving me my late update times.

Nothin' else to say, just enjoy!

"Warton's heart became heavier than it had ever been in all his life. For the first time, there was absolutely no hope in it."

A Toad for Tuesday by Russell E. Erickson

"Nothing is more thoroughly dampened than fresh hope reduced to ash."

Laws of Conquest, by Zithsian warlord Ungarred

Four Years Ago

"Now, explain."

Viglax's voice was a quiet growl, charged with a menace which seemed to fill the med bay's file room, and most of his subjects would already be trembling at the obvious danger it hinted at, but Atron seemed entirely unaffected. Slarssans were completely logical during confrontations. They had their differences in opinion, and in fact relished debates. However, their arguments were always rooted firmly in fact, and they would never respond emotionally to any argument.

"Gladly, lord." The Miertoh selected a data pad from those on his desk. He tapped the screen to bring up the file he was looking for and then handed the pad to his master. Vilgax glanced at the screen and saw that Atron had already compiled Ben's illness and treatment records. He was always prepared.

Vilgax glanced toward the door to the main part of the med bay where Ben was sleeping. He had looked much better when the warlord had returned from his first mate's room. The sweating and shivering had stopped, and his breathing had been relaxed and peaceful. At times like this, it was easy to forget the powers that the child wielded with such skill and fire. Humans were a young race, just barely beginning to take a hand in their own biology. They were still very vulnerable to illness. Vilgax despised them for it.

The warlord turned back as his Miertoh continued to speak.

"If you will look at the charts," Atron gestured fluidly, "You will notice that my error came from a failure to account for the genetic modifications from the device that he is bonded to."

Vilgax flicked a tentacle dismissively. "Those modifications occur only when he morphs."

Atron gestured negatively. "I am referring to his genetic connection to the device itself, lord. It seems to have altered his DNA very slightly at the base level. Not enough to be noticeable, but sufficiently to allow the symbiotic connection which…"

Vilgax cut him off with a sharp gesture. "That is enough Miertoh. I am familiar with the connection. I trust that you will take greater care when administering to him in the future."

Atron bowed slightly. "I will take the utmost care in his treatment, lord." He always did so, but Atron did not say that. This was merely his Vilgax's manner. His lord knew that he was the most careful and skilled being for the job, or else Atron would not still be here.

The warlord flicked a tentacle in acknowledgement. He seemed about to leave, but then turned back, eyes hard.

"You will speak of this to no one," he ordered. "It concerns you only as it influences his treatment. Inform me when he awakens."

Atron bowed again as his lord moved away. He then placed the files back in their storage container and went back to his work. In this position you learned not to expect explanations for everything, particularly where Vilgax was concerned.

Ben was awake.

He still felt week and his skin was too sensitive as he shifted beneath the sheets, but the pain was gone. It was a profound relief, like waking from a nightmare, and for a moment Ben simply lay there, breathing contentedly. Wait, why was he under a sheet?

Ben opened his eyes.

Soft, white light greeted him and he realized that he must still be in the infirmary. He was lying on one of the examination tables that he had seen during his earlier visits, but if felt almost as soft as a bed now. He seemed to be alone, but in the distance he could hear a faint chime, as though someone had struck a wine glass with a metal fork.

Ben's mind was beginning to work now, to wake up after what seemed like forever. A thought fluttered through his mind on delicate gossamer wings, awakening the faint stirrings of hope. He had just remembered something that caused his heart to quicken and his breath to catch in his throat.

Vilgax had ordered not to leave his cell. He had never forbidden him from escaping the ship.

Ben sat up gingerly, pushing the covers back with one hand. He still felt exhausted and his skin was very tender when it rubbed against the sheets, yet he was shaking with nervous tension. This was his best, and perhaps his only, chance of escape. He had to succeed, no matter what.

However, as he sat up, he noticed the first complication. His clothes were gone. Instead of his white and black t-shirt and green cargo pants, he was clad only in a kind of long nightshirt or hospital gown, though there was no split down the back, thankfully. It was made of plain, gray fabric and went slightly past his knees. He looked around for his clothes, but they were not in evidence, and he knew he couldn't waste time with a more thorough search.

Well, he would just have to manage without them then. Vilgax or that doctor could come in at any minute and then he would lose his chance, possibly forever.

Ben hopped off of the table and then immediately grabbed the edge of it as a wave of dizziness washed over him. He shut his eyes as the world seemed to spin. As the dizziness receded, he glanced apprehensively toward the door at the back of the room. Someone was back there. He could hear another chiming sound, and a rustle of movement.

He took one slow step backwards and then another, his eyes never leaving the door the noises had come from. He continued backing this way until he could sense the door out to the corridor looming at his back.

He turned then and, taking hold of the handle with both hands, slid the heavy door open, still watching the back of the infirmary uneasily. As soon as the space was wide enough, he darted through the door, only to run headlong into a tall, feathery alien who had been poised to enter. The tray of small, clear vials which the alien had been carrying went flying out of its hands, the vials clattering on the floor with a sound that seemed as loud as machine gun fire, but Ben did not see them. After the momentary shock, he barrelled into the alien and past, and bolted down the corridor, knowing only that his chance of escape was growing slimmer every second.

The metal floor was cold beneath his feet, but Ben kept running. He had had no immediate direction in mind, but as he ran, he recognized the oval door that signalled the elevator, and an idea glowed to life. Ben skidded to a halt and slapped his palm on the pad that activated the elevator. The door slid open, to his relief, and he slipped inside. The floor lit up immediately, and the navigation lights flickered on like multi-coloured fireflies. Ben thought that he could hear a noise behind him, but it was difficult to tell over the blood pounding in his ears. He had no time to hesitate in any case. He gingerly moved his hand into the array of lights, swiftly touching as many as he could. The door slid closed as before, and Ben lent against the wall, if only for a moment. His heart was racing as though he had run a marathon, and he was surprised to feel his legs shaking under him. He held up a hand. Even his hands were shaking.

The door to the elevator slid smoothly open and Ben glanced out to check that the coast was clear, and then ventured into the hallway.

There was an open door ahead and to the left, and he made for it without giving himself time to think. It looked like some kind of storage room, rows and rows of shelves stacked with grey storage crates. It was dimly lit and empty so far as he could see and Ben ducked inside gratefully. He quietly slid the door closed and then pressed himself against one of the walls of crates and tried not to breath.

Outside the room he could hear nothing. It was eerily quiet, and he felt the urge to go and peak out of the door. He resisted and waited, breathing quietly, listening to the blood pulsing in his ears.

Ben's heartbeat gradually slowed. His legs felt stiff from standing still and tense as he was, but he couldn't relax. He had to be ready in case someone opened the door.

When he had run headlong out of the infirmary, he hadn't taken the time to think how he would escape. He had simply seen his chance and taken it. But now his mind began to work.

Vilgax would be looking for him. He had probably already sent his robots to search the ship. Point being, Vilgax would find him in here; it was only a question of when. Ben allowed his shaking legs to sink into a crouch. It seemed to relieve the feeling somewhat.

When he had touched the symbols in the elevator, it had been completely random. He was almost certainly on a different floor, but it might be only one floor removed, or fifty. And he had no idea how big the ship was, though he figured that it must be fairly large, if only based on the ship Ben had seen, and subsequently blown up, during his first encounter with Vilgax. If he had managed to find and hole-up in some out-of-the-way corner, it might be a long time before he was found – long enough, perhaps, to find his way to the docking bay. His only chance was to find a small vessel and steal it but he was flying blind. He didn't know where he was in the ship, and he didn't know how to use the elevator. He also wasn't certain that he could find his way back to the docking bay even if he made it back to the more familiar part of the ship. And then there was the fact that his heart was still beating faster than normal and his knees felt like they were filled with water.

Just as he was wondering whether to leave the room and begin his search or whether to sit down for a moment and wait for the shaking to stop, the door slid open and both options evaporated like the smoke from a blown out candle.

Vilgax stood there, seeming to fill the room with his smouldering gaze. He looked at least thirty feet tall. Ben froze against the wall. He knew Vilgax had seen him, but his mind just wouldn't accept it. He needed, at least for one more second, to believe that he had a chance to escape.

"Come here Ben." Vilgax's voice was quiet, a calm growl, but Ben knew he was angry. His tentacles hung still but tensed, almost quivering.

Ben felt a little trickle of anger himself. What, had Vilgax thought he wouldn't even try to escape from this nightmare? But the anger was mild. What he mostly felt was sick.

Vilgax was waiting, Ben recognized with an inward shudder. He could obey, or he could be forced. Ben felt trapped, pinned to the wall by the alien's gaze. A bead of sweat crawled maddeningly down the small of his back and his bare feet had begun to cramp on the cold metal. His head was heavy and sore, and he could feel his legs shaking again. He wished Grandpa and Gwen would come bursting in to save him, and he wished his mother was there to wrap her warm arms around him, but no one was here. There was only him. He was alone. And he just couldn't do it again. Not now.

Slowly he stood, aided by one hand on the wall behind him and, moving away from the poor shelter of the wall, walked over to Vilgax. He stopped before he got too close and stood shakily, wishing vainly for something to lean against.

Vilgax knelt, bringing his face closer to Ben, red eyes never leaving the boy's face. He did not seem surprised that Ben had done as he had ordered. His tentacles were still tense, as though about to fasten about someone's throat.

"You will never run away again," Vilgax said quietly, and it was both an order and a promise.

Ben's throat was suddenly very dry.

"You're not going to kill me, are you?" He asked dully, but he already knew the answer. He didn't know why he hadn't known it before. Perhaps he simply hadn't wanted to believe it.

"No," Vilgax answered in that same quiet tone, like gravel grating beneath the tires of a car.

"Why not? Ben felt lightheaded, but he felt that he had to ask, as long as Vilgax kept answering.

"You know so little," the alien said, and his tentacles shifted as a ripple seemed to pass through them. "I have no desire to harm you."

"What are you talking about?" Ben retorted desperately. "We're enemies! You hate me! You've been trying to kill me since before I even knew you existed!"

Vilgax's tentacles wriggled again and Ben had the sudden impression that he was being laughed at.

"We are no longer enemies," the alien said. "An enemy would be a threat to me, and you ceased to be that when you surrendered. It is something you will never be again."

No! Ben was screaming internally. This is temporary! It has to be! His throat wouldn't work. All that he could do was to shake his head dumbly. Vilgax continued, although for once Ben wished that he would stop.

"You will be here for the remainder of your life and you must learn to accept it."

"Why?" Ben breathed, almost pleading. He didn't want to hear this, hadn't wanted to speak, but he couldn't stop himself. Everything felt surreal, as though he were trapped in a nightmare.

Vilgax stood once more, towering. He seemed to withdraw, although his voice was the same.

"Because that is my will," he said with finality. His tentacles waved, brushing away invisible cobwebs. "Come," he ordered.

Ben thought he might scream. He couldn't take much more of this. Surely soon he would crack, then shatter into a million pieces. He was shaking with the pent-up emotion, unless that was just his weakened body trying to keep him upright. The only saving grace was that Vilgax had ordered him rather than commanding. He was still technically in control of himself, small comfort as that was. He took one step, and then another. His eyes were aching, but he forced them wide open and kept walking. He couldn't let himself cry.

The trip back to the infirmary was silent. Ben couldn't bring himself to speak, and in fact, most of his energy was spent simply on continuing to put one foot in front of the other. He would not show any more weakness in front of his enemy. And he wouldn't admit that what he was most afraid of was Vilgax carrying him back.

It was a short journey, though Ben was still in the dark about how far he had actually gotten in his ill-fated escape attempt. The elevator could have passed hundreds of floors.

Ben could feel his stomach settle lower into his shoes as they neared the door. He had the sudden impulse to bolt; not with any hope of escape, but simply to put off the time when he would have to walk through it. He felt as though something indefinable was slipping away from him like water through a sieve. But the shear uselessness of flight made him hesitate too long, and then he was through the door and it closed behind him.

What happened next was simply torture. Ben sat or stood emotionlessly as the doctor performed several tests on him, including the coloured-light scan from before. None of them were painful or even uncomfortable, but Ben was in agony the whole time. He was fighting a slowly losing battle against breaking down, and it seemed years until the final test was complete and he was escorted back to his cell. The only saving grace was that nobody made him talk. There was a hard lump in his throat that he couldn't possibly have spoken around. The doctor occasionally directed him to hold out one arm or stand still, but aside from that he might just as well not have been there. Vilgax and the doctor talked constantly about him over his head and expected no input from him. It was almost like they thought that he wasn't there or couldn't understand. This made the experience both easier and much worse than it would otherwise have been. Perhaps he could have used the information to learn more about what had caused his illness, but he couldn't bring himself to care enough to concentrate on the conversation.

Only when he was once more faced with that familiar hated room did he find the energy to realize that he was still wearing the grey night-shirt. The doctor had made him put on some soft grey slipper-things with rubbery soles, so at least his feet were warm, but the realization of his dress halted his feet and he turned with a sudden urgent thought.

"I forgot to bring my clothes," he stated softly.

"Clothes have been provided for you in your room," Vilgax returned evenly. It was impossible to tell whether he was surprised at the question, even if Ben currently possessed the inclination to try and puzzle the monster out.

"What happened to my clothes?" Ben thought that there might be a note of panic in his voice now, but there was nothing he could do about it.

Vilgax waved one tentacle, and now his voice was definitely dismissive.

"They were damaged and have been disintegrated."

Ben's head swam. His tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of his mouth and he could only stare at Vilgax incredulously.

"The clothes you have been provided with are more than adequate," his captor continued. "Now rest. You are still recovering." He paused for a moment before the command. "Do not leave your room."

Ben walked shakily into his cell, and the door slid closed. He felt as though he had swallowed a stone which was now lodged in his throat, pressing painfully into his flesh. They had only been clothes, yet he felt as though he had lost his only friend. They had at least been something familiar; something of his. He swallowed as best he could and then felt the warm liquid building at his eyes. He had not cried when he thought Grandpa and Gwen might not be coming for him, or when he wondered if he would ever see his parents again, but now he could not stop it. He made it to the bed, had just time to press his face into his pillow before the first sob forced its way out.

He lay there, crying helplessly, letting the sobs shake his body and force their way painfully from him. Perhaps Vilgax was watching, but there was nothing he could do about that. He was trapped in a nightmare and, for the first time, he knew that there was no escape.

Thanks for reading, everyone!

I must love standoffs in warehouses.

I would love to say that I had Ben's escape planned way back when Vilgax gave him that order, but the truth is that I completely didn't notice that Vilgax hadn't ordered him not to escape from the ship. I only noticed the omission later during a reread, so this chapter kind of emerged out of nowhere. For all of that however, I really liked how it turned out, and what it added to the story.

And we were so close to learning what Ben's connection to the omnitrix is all about in this story. I will hopefully be spilling those particular beans, to the readers at least, in the next couple of chapters. Until then, any guesses?

Next time we take a brief trip into the present to see how Gwen is doing.

Let me know what you think, and see you all soon!