Chapter 18 - Deluding Cohort
"..." Fiona breathed heavily while not moving. Frozen stiff with trepidation from what she saw and heard, it was the aspect that something unknown and very alien was in the neighbor's house. Paranoia and fear began to make her mental voice say things that did not calm her down.
[Report. I repeat. Report. What is your status?] the Primusian on the other line voice sternly.
'...it already knows I'm here...' the scout slave said in her mind.
Slowly reaching for the audio jack without moving anything else, she grasped the plug and pulled carefully. Feeling it disengage, a small blip was heard in her ears. Knowing she could not hear anything in the direction of where the binoculars were, the woman began to reach for the power button. Touching the switch, nothing popped in her line of sight through the magnifying viewing tool. Apprehension was forcing her to believe that something would jump into view and scare her.
"..." she pressed her teeth together.
Clicking the button to shut the equipment down, the night vision imagery died down. As the green tint faded to black, her nerves flickered from seeing faint movement. Remaining still, her nerves became strained from hearing soft, short scratch noises. It seemed to be right in front of her. Clenching her teeth harder and struggling to breathe calmly, she forced her eyes to look up slowly.
"churp-churp" a small Chickadee voiced standing on the edge of the binocular. Looking around curiously, it saw movement below it. Seeing big eyes look up at it, the bird flew away scared.
'...damn wildlife...' Fiona thought while sighing heavily.
"..." Olton sat in his office chair.
With his forearms resting on the edge of the desk, his hands were collapsed together. There was paperwork on the table that needed his attention; however, something else was bugging him. After the mixer event, he felt that the formed collaboration with the humans was something that would solidify his standings. Yet the following morning, there was the murdering of a Primusian. One of the high council's soldiers.
Despite Commander Utern telling him the details of what has happened, the Captain didn't think much of it. Continuing on as usual and gathering more rare supplies to have in the trade market, the death of one of his kind did not harm him. Since it wasn't one of his crew members, he didn't care much about those in other branches of Primusian government. Even the daily reports from the Baklavaian slave scout seemed more docile for some strange reason. It was as if something did happen that made a favorable behavior correction.
'Even Aerialus's behavior is more submissive,' he thought while tapping his thumbs together. 'While monitoring her on the status call, nothing seemed to indicate of hiding something.'
'Both are doing my instructions without fail. All in all, it just shows how influential I can be,' he reasoned. Feeling a little smug, he smirked to no one. Releasing his hands and moving the paperwork to have a clear spot on the desk, he leaned back in his chair. Lifting his legs up and putting his boots on the table, he crossed his arms over his chest.
"Maybe with all this good luck and haul streak going, we'll get a killing back home in no time...then I'll be the top seller...the money...the fame...I can almost smell it," the leader voiced then did a long sniff. The imagery of glory came to his mind as if it smelled savory. Memory of the human alcoholic drink came to mind which made him increase his smile a bit more.
'I'll bet we have some scrape to trade for a few cases of that beverage,' he said in his mind. Seeing something flashing, he looked down at the control panel on the table. Seeing the comms light blinking off and on, he reached for it and activated a button.
"Captain Olton here."
[Captain...Commander Utern. I have been informed that the race council is asking for an emergency meeting]
"An emergency meeting?" he repeated. Looking off to the side and thinking for a moment or two, he got his boots off the table.
"I see. Are you heading to the conference room?"
[I was when I was informed they wanted a private call. Specifically your quarters sir] the second in command answered.
'Hmm...are they in trouble? Or has the murder case been solved?' Olton wondered while stroking his beard. 'Does it involve the slaves? Or is the council seeking control of the residuals?'
"...very well...I will wait for you here then."
[Aye sir. I will be in momentarily. Utern out]
"..." the Captain let go of the comms button.
Making a puzzled face and staring in the distance, he glanced down at the paperwork on his desk. Blinking and picking one up, he began reading it. Doing the same with the other, he put the documents aside. Putting his forearms back on the desk, he collapsed his hands together. Waiting for a minute in relative silence, there was a knocking at his hatch door.
"Commander Utern here sir."
"Enter," the leader spoke. Seeing the hatch door open, his second leader came in. Closing the door and having a folder in his hand, he approached the desk.
"More paperwork. Hmm?" Olton asked.
"No sir," the commander replied and handed the folder to him. "It is a synopsis of various reports occurring from after the human event you attended. The race council is on hold of comm-line 3."
"Are the old fools angry? Bitter that they lost one of their own?" the Captain asked with slight amusement in his tone.
"They apparently lost another one."
"..." he blinked then looked at his second in command. There was no emotion on his face that indicated he was joking.
"...another one?"
"Yes sir. Another scout was sent, but its target was the neighboring house of where our two Baklavaian slaves are nearby," Utern informed.
"..." Olton turned to the folder and opened it up. Feeling more awake, he began to scan it while his other leader continued.
"The race council's agent infiltrated the human's residence and began to search the location. Within a minute, his signal flatlined. The last thing recorded of what the scout said was the beginning of a shout that died down quickly. The tracker on the individual went dark afterwards."
'...the neighbor again...' he thought with a smirk. 'The fools didn't listen to me before...and now they are paying for it. How sweet.'
"How troublesome. I'd hate to be in their shoes," the captain commented with a soft snort. Closing the folder and putting it on his desk, he looked at his right hand man.
"Let's get this over with. I hope I get to see their upset faces...it would...brighten my day."
"Hopefully they find your humor...amusing captain," Utern said while moving. Getting to the Captain's right side and standing at attention, Olton addressed himself. Making sure everything was in order, he clicked another button on his desk. A holographic projection came on and was blank at first.
"Captain Olton here. Patch me to comm-line 3."
[Aye captain. Patching you to comm-line 3] a communications tech stated. Seeing the blank image of the hologram flicker to figures, the captain flicked two other switches that made soft audible beeps. Once the image clarified, it was the three members of the race council.
[Captain Olton. It is good that you responded on such short notice] the middle member on the screen spoke.
"Of course counselors. Please forgive me not being available on your previous call. I hope my 2nd in command was adequate in my steed."
[Commander Utern has been keeping us inform of unusual developments around human habitats] the other male individual acknowledged. Utern gave a slow nod and remained at a parade rest position.
"That is good to hear. Now then...to what urgency have you called us on?"
[Is your quarters secured Captain? What we will be discussing is top secret] the middle individual voiced with an even tone.
"I can assure you that any surveillance or reconnaissance device present in my quarters has been disable," the Primusian leader assured with a raised hand.
[...very well...another one of our agents has been eliminated] the counselor informed with a tone of annoyance.
"Another one? When did this occur?"
[The previous night Captain; however, it was not a random killing. Our scout lost his tracker once attacked inside one of a human's household]
"...I see..." Olton spoke carefully. "My condolences counselors. I would like to add that there are a good number of inhabitants here that will fight back if their property is being...illegally walked on without their consent or acknowledgment."
[...yes...that appears to be apparent...especially for the one adjacent to where one of your slaves resides and the other monitoring from a tree]
"..." the ship leader paused and stared for a couple of seconds. Shifting in his seat a little and feeling a bit more interested, he cleared his throat.
"You talking about the neighbor that I have brought up in past conversations?"
[Yes captain. For what we know, something inside that household eliminated one of our own. Despite statements of a human residence inside of it, there is still nothing to prove it]
[We also gathered that there is no visual of who this neighbor is or what it looks like...even though there have been surviellence watching the household for many moons]
"..." the Captain stared at them in silence. Unable to contain himself, he let out a soft chuckle.
[This isn't a matter of amusement captain] one stated in a stern voice.
"...heh heh...apologies counselors. I am just remembering the time that I brought up my concerns regarding the mysterious neighbor...as the humans put it, many weeks ago."
[Do you not show concerns now that two of our own kind have been slain?] the female counselor voiced with a frown.
"You tell me," the Captain voiced. Lifting up his hands and making an open gesture with both, he continued.
"I asked for help when two of my slaves were being influenced by an unknown being/human...and you three said...more evidence was needed."
[...]
"And now that there have been two incidents involving the deaths of 2 members of your staff...it is suddenly...a concern."
[If you are challenging us Captain...we can reassign you to a port back on Primus.]
"Ah...retaliation...the pinnacle of our political methods of maneuvering," he said with humor. Bringing his hands back together, he gave them a fake smile.
"By all means counselors. Make a decision. I'll make sure to give a full...detailed report...on the unsolved murders of our kind on an alien plant. Our government and military leaders will interrogate...all of us for our cowardness. To allow a weak and frail species get away with killing two specially trained Primusian soldiers."
[...]
"Ah but where or where...are my manners and discipline. I should be asking my prestigious counselors, who have more intelligence than I could ever have, on how to catch an alien species...without making it look like anything that get the human authorities involved," he voiced then opened his hands again.
"Please counselors...give me your wisdom to form a plan on this...travesty."
[Your commentary Captain...will be noted] the middle figure spoke sounding very tense as if seething.
[Until we form a plan, you are to remove your two slaves from the human inhabitance. Is that clear enough for you to follow, Captain Olton] the female counselor stated with a stern tone.
"Your orders...will be noted counselors," Olton continued smiling at them. "Any other tasks that I should relay to my crew as we sit idle by while an inferior race taunts us from the ground?"
[You will stand by...until further orders are given. I hope you will comply with these...simple tasks] the other male member stated with a mild glaring expression.
"I do hope I can comply with these complicated orders counselors," he remarked. Standing up and still giving a fake smile, he continued with the same tone of voice.
"I also hope you can find...a plan...you'll need it."
"..." Utern observed the two sides until the comms-link closed.
Already knowing that the Captain would challenge the race council in his mannerisms, part of him was curious. The aspect that two Primusian scouts were taken down within a week's time was not common. Nor on a planet that was deemed to be physically weaker and lesser technology. Olton was correct that leaving MW-3 as is would be an intensive investigation back home. The public mockery would be relentless. However, Utern's mind was more on trying to understand the council's order to them.
"You look like you want to say something Utern," Olton commented.
"..." the 2nd commander turned his head and saw his leader looking at him. Still having the fake smile, his body language indicated that he was irritated.
"If I may speak freely sir."
"Bah. Always so formal and polite. You make me sick at times."
"Is that a no Captain?"
"..." the Primusian leader grunted then looked away. "You may flap your gums."
"How exactly is retrieving the two slaves...going to solve the murders? One of the scouts was slain in a high tree a distance away from where they were," he pointed out.
"For that poor sap, it doesn't," the Captain answered. Standing up, he walked away from his desk. Turning to the right, he began pacing while becoming animated.
"Those snark piles of blubber are in a deep hole...and think shifting blame to us will solve their failure," he voiced while throwing his arms up. Stopping and pointing at his 2nd in command, he continued.
"That first scout was at the human's evening event...so it could have been any race that was at that party."
"That is true sir. There were allies and enemies present at the ball you attended," Utern agreed. "However, would either of them stage a murder on foreign soil and frame the natives as the culprits?"
"..." Olton blinked then looked down in thought. "There are a couple that would go to that length...but they would only do so in neutral space...if they did so here and the galactic council catches wind of it, there would be strict penalties."
"Which then leads to the second scout that infiltrated the human's home," the 2nd in command continued. Seeing an arm sweep by the other man, his face looked like he sneered.
"Humiliating. For a Primusian scout...trained to be equal to a foot soldier and skilled at stealth...to lose to an inferior and weaker race. He deserved to perish," the Captain remarked with a frown. Turning to the officer, he did a brushing motion with his hand.
"Enough of this talk. Send out the documents to both slaves for retrieval. Effective immediately."
"Aye sir. What if the host family resists releasing our slave?"
"Then my lad...we do what we do best," Olton answered with a smirk. "Take by force."
By the time the midafternoon came, the postal service had come by and delivered the neighborhoods daily mail. Fiona saw the postal worker drive by from her high tree position. Knowing Aerialus was currently in the house, her host family members were all out for work. Having a feeling in the back of her mind of trepidation, she couldn't figure why or shake it off. Closing her eyes and rubbing her face, she flinched from hearing an audible sound. Opening her eyes and staring at where it came from, it was her gear bag.
'That...could only come from one source,' the slave scout thought.
Removing her hands from her face, she reached for the clothed container. Hearing the beep sound again, she grabbed the device that made it. Seeing it to be her comms headset, the Baklavaian stared at it. After a moment or two of her mind going blank, she curled her lips inward. Putting the contraption in her ears and adjusting them, the blip blared in hear ears. Closing her eyes to not jump, she took a deep breath in then out. Pressing one of the buttons on the left side, and automated message started playing.
[S-1057...your operation of scouting S-0923 has been officially halted. You will report back to the ship at once. Failure to comply will result in containment by Primusian officials and charged with failure to comply. You have 1 MW-3 hour to comply]
"..." Fiona immediately tensed up.
Even after the instructions were finished and the audio signal died, she began to feel a growing panic inside her. Opening her eyes and focusing on nothing in particular, two parts of her were battling for control. One side wanted to escape the scout position that she was in and the recent eerie developments. However, an equally strong force was resisting. The allotted amount of time away from the prison ship has altered her mindset. Thinking about what she would go back to on the ship caused a gripping reaction of dissent.
"I...I don't want...to go back," she whispered to no one.
Feeling the tension continuing to build, an emotional tug began to fester. Trying to hold it in only made water develop in her eyes faster. Breathing sharply, the cold air outside made the inside of her lungs burn a little. Thinking that Aerialus would get the same message, her mind was becoming less clear and focus. Denial and resists grew inside. A want to revolt and escape suddenly seemed like the only answer that rang clearly inside her brain.
'I can't escape from the masters...they placed a tracker on me,' Fiona thought feeling herself begin to shake.
Sudden remembrances of what a couple of Primusian soldiers did to some of the Baklavaian slaves flooded her mind's eye. Unable to tolerate it, death seemed more of a plausible route of escapism. Turning her head towards the home where Aerialus was residing, the thought of going to her for a brief moment of comfort and security came to mind. However, her eyes were distracted by something to her left. Staring at the neighbor's house, a wooden gate was seen left open.
'...did...the neighbor just open it?' a thought passed through her head. Blinking, another one came right after.
'Or was it the Primusian scout?...it was going around the house yesterday.'
"..." Fiona stared back and forth between the gate and front door of the neighbor's home. Recalling what eventually happened to the intruder once inside, a sudden thought process came to her. Goosebumps flared down her skin from what she was trying to reason herself to do. Shaking her head hard and remembering what happened on several occasions on the slave ship, she removed her comms-device.
"I'm not going back," she told herself in defiance. Gathering everything and packing it back in her gear bag, she didn't second guess herself. Getting her climbing gloves and boots on, she looked around. Seeing no one staring, she began scaling down the tree.
'If he doesn't answer...I will just break in...then...I won't have to worry about going back or being forced back,' a voice in her head stated clearly.
Getting to the ground and seeing no one looking her direction, she put her tools back in the bag. Looking both ways on the street, she walked quickly to the other side. Upon getting on the other sidewalk, she stopped near the mailbox. Anxiety began to build inside her stomach. Faint notions of weakness generated in her limbs. Trying to will herself to brave through what she was about to do, she couldn't stop her small tremors.
'This...this is okay...it will be okay,' the slave scout mentally told herself. The imposing thought of the alien entity and unknown came to her while staring at the neighbor's house. Feeling herself shake harder, she looked down at the walkway to the front door. Finding it to be less intimidating, she took a slow and shaky first step before continuing forward.
'He will...end this...I won't have to worry anymore...I won't have to fear anymore.'
Breathing faster the closer she got, her legs started to feel weak. Biting the inside of her lip, the pain helped distract her growing inner turmoil. Getting to the steps of the porch, she looked up. From the last time she saw it in the daylight, nothing looked different or scary. The rocking chairs were still in their locations as the wooden paneling appeared the same.
With her eyes halting at the front door, a repetitive double thud was booming in her head. Feeling her hands become sweaty, her back began to feel damp. Still feeling the shakes, she swallowed the lump in her throat. Looking down at the steps, she pressed her lips together. Slowly going up the two steps to be on the porch, nothing happened.
Wiping her hands on the jumpsuit she was wearing, she looked up at the front door again. Thinking the blue orbs would have appeared in the windows or materialized in front of her, nothing did. Only the noise of a quiet suburban neighborhood was heard in the background. Swallowing again, she proceeded forward. Immediately stepping on a soft spot, the wood beneath her made creaking sounds.
"..." the Baklavaian froze and waited.
After some seconds of silence and nothing happening, she closed her eyes and felt sweat building on her forehead. Bitting her tongue this time and hard, the stabbing pain tampered down her apprehension faintly. Taking a slow step forward, she opened her eyes. Ignoring another creaking noise, she eventually got to the front door. Straightening herself out despite shaking a little, the action of knocking on the door came to her mind.
"..." Fiona remained still.
The door appeared lifeless and cold yet what lurked behind it and inside the house made the thuds in her head get a little faster. Curling her fingers to make fists, she forced herself to lift her arm. Moving her hand to where her knuckles were an inch or so from the door, she could see her entire arm shivering. Curling her lips in and breathing hard through her nose, she knocked on the door three times. Her ears perked up and eyes widen a little from hearing the door rattle by itself after hitting it.
"..." she moved her hand back and to her side.
Standing there and waiting, nothing but the ambience of outside made noise. Nothing in the house indicated that someone was coming. Quickly glancing at the windows within view, there was no one on the other side. Looking to the far right, to where the fence separated the houses, the image of the gate open came to her mind. Turning back to the door, silence and inaction remained. After a several seconds passed of nothing, the Baklavaian gingerly raised her hand and knocked on the door again.
'The previous scout was knocking on doors and windows to see if there was a reaction...but there wasn't,' she thought.
Remembering where the scout was to get in, the damaged areas were replaced. Nothing there now indicated that there was a break-in. Still hearing no response or the presence of someone behind the door, she looked down at the door handle. Slowly reaching for it and trying it as carefully as possible, it was locked. Returning it back to the previous position, she let go and took a step back.
'I don't want to break in...but if that is the only way to get the neighbor's attention,' the slave scout pondered.
Turning right and walking away from the entrance, the fence gate was around the corner. Passing a front window, she did not turn to look inside. Getting to the corner, she stopped peeked around it. Still seeing it open, it showed a concreate pathway to the back of the house. Nobody was there except minimalistic plants, grass, and outdoor furniture. Seeing nothing threatening, she walked around the corner to the gate.
Getting to it and slowly her pace down, she glanced left and right. Despite not seeing anyone still, a part of her felt that she was now intruding. Quietly entering the backyard pathway, she looked behind the gate. No one was there except trash cans. Looking back forward, there was a window on the house to her left. The blinds were down most of the way except for a narrow passage on the bottom. Seeing what looked like a sink faucet, Fiona assumed it may be a kitchen area.
Continuing straight till the next corner of the house was reached, the concrete pathway turned left to go along the back of the home. Seeing a hardtop awning with support pillars at the end, it provided immediate coverage from the rain and sun. Peering around the edge of the house she was near, the back door was seen. Observing the rest of the yard, it was well maintained despite not having a lot of plants or trees.
'...strange...the sounds...of everything,' she mentally noted.
Turning her head a little, the sound of the outside world seemed quieter for some reason. Leaning back to stand straight and thinking that everything was fine back here, the wonder if there was a doorbell at the entrance came to her mind. Deciding to go back to do that first, she turned 180 degrees. In midstep, she halted and stare.
'...the gate...is closed?' the woman voiced in her mind. Looking at it harder, her eyes widen a little while taking a step back.
'...why...does it look like a...solid wall?...there's...no hinge...or lock,' her brain voiced while she kept staring confused.
Feeling a sudden sensation, the small and faint hairs on her body spiked up. Darting to her eyes right to the window, there was no one peering through the glass that the blinds did not cover. However, there was a something else. A presence of some kind on the other side of the window. Remaining still and staring, her ears perked up from hearing something faint.
Thinking it came from somewhere around the corner on her right, she did not move and kept staring at the window. Blinking, the presence was fading away to nothing. Feeling odd from that sensation, it did not make her relax. Thinking about retreating, she shook her head and berated herself internally. Trying to steel herself despite feeling tremors, she turned around and walked to the corner.
Peering again, nothing had changed from when she last looked. Staring at the back door, it was still the same. Feeling tension in her stomach, she left the corner and slowly walked forward. Stopping to be in front of the door, she stared at it. The sensations of fear crept up her spine from able to see through the screen and glass door.
Appearing as a kitchen and dining room in one, there was nothing fancy about it. There was a round dining table to the left and an elongated one to the right. Straight ahead was where the cabinets, counters, appliances were that were in an L-shape layout for the kitchen. To the right of the refrigerator was an opening to a hallway intersection. There were no lights on, but she was able to see given how much sunlight was present outside shining in.
"..." Fiona looked down at the screen door handle.
Seeing that both doors would slide open, she carefully reached for the outside one. With her fingers holding the handle, there was nothing on it to indicate that it was locked. Trying to push it to the right, it did not budge. Trying a little harder, it still did not move. Stopping and clearing her throat, she lifted her hand up into a loose fist. Knocking, the screen had enough give to be able to hit the glass door.
Instead of backing away, she remained where she was. Waiting and looking in, the house seemed to be dead quiet. Thinking the neighbor was deeper inside and couldn't hear the knocking, she tried again a bit harder. After the third hit and bringing her arm back to her side, she blinked and looked to her left. Staring at nothing and concentrating, something seemed off.
'The outside noises...are still there,' she thought. Slowly turning around to look behind her, she strained her ears while seeing nothing out of the ordinary still.
'...but...they seem even more muffled...' the female wondered. Waiting for several seconds and listening, nothing seemed to be happening. No presence came behind her even though she betted that there would have been one once she turned around.
'...maybe...he really isn't home?'
"..." Fiona felt ambivalence take over her. Frustration from her last ditch effort to evade was combining with the fear of going back to the slave ship. Given the alternative path she took and that she would have been monitored, she will be punished once returned to the spacecraft.
"...damn it..." the woman muttered out loud.
Not feeling able to cope yet, she decided to go rest against the back door. Looking down at the floor with a mixed expression on her face, she shuffled backwards. Waiting to feel the collision, she would then slide down to sit on the floor. However, her back didn't hit anything. Before she could realize that, she took a dragging back while her momentum continued to go backwards.
"...Ah!?" Fiona voiced. Tripping on the bottom track rail, she fell backwards.
Unable to get her footing and slipping more on the rug that was on inside, she landed on her back. Surprised and confused at the same time, the pain subsided. Quickly prompting herself up from laying on the floor, she froze. The glass sliding door as well as the screen door were opened enough for her to go through. That confusion however was replaced with tense suspension.
"..." she felt her voice lost as she stared.
Both doors were closing by themselves. Once completely closed, two audible locks engaged that sounded like booming mechanical clicks. Slowly leaning backwards, the blinds slowly turned to block the view outside. On the last portion turned, the illumination dimmed noteably. Only the kitchen window let in light while the rest of the room became darker and dull.