SWNOVELS Chapter CHAPTER EIGHT
Van was dead. He knew this and accepted it. Then he realised that he was aware of the fact that he had just been executed. The idea of a life after death was one that had never occurred to him as a plausible belief. He had always thought of those who had the faith as complete morons, yet, here he was; in total cold blackness and somehow still in some state of consciousness. He began to ponder what he would do now he was a shapeless entity, then he felt a dull pain in his head. I guess I still have a head, he thought, and I can still feel the rest of me for that matter.
A bright light suddenly burst in, seemingly from nowhere, assaulting his retinas and causing him to clench his eyes tightly. He was breathing, but why would the dead need to breathe? Before he could develop this train of thought any further, the sound of coughing from somewhere nearby caught his attention.
Van pulled open his eyes and found that he was in a large, dark room. A few meters away from him, Dallas was laid on the floor, coughing and slapping around like a drunk seal. Van wasn’t dead, not unless his final judgement was to take place in a room with glass windows. If that was the case then every religion he had heard of had gotten the afterlife very wrong.
Van scanned his surroundings. Not much could be seen in the room, the 30 foot, vertical shaft windows only cast a small amount of light across a room which seemed cavernous. It appeared to be raining outside, though the glass was misted so he could not see where outside was. He knew they couldn’t still been on Thosisa, the climate control and advanced irrigation systems made unpleasant weather ‘unnecessary’ centuries before he was even born. So where could they be?
Dallas had finished coughing and sat up, “So where did it bring us?”
“You knew we weren’t gonna DIE?!” asked Van, bewildered but angry.
“Mate, the room was obviously a transporter,” he replied light-heartedly, “you could see the wave field emitters in the ceiling.”
“FUCK YOU!”
“What?” asked Dallas defensively, “Would you have preferred if you had just died?”
“If you knew we weren’t going to die, then why did you let me say all that self-deprecating stuff?” said Van, his eyes swelling with rage.
“You looked like you needed to get it off your chest,” answered Dallas, “plus, humility really suits you; you should use it more often.” He smiled and Van knew that, even if they weren’t dead, Dallas might get that way very soon. But, as much as would have revelled in the satisfaction of beating the life from this man, it was no time for mindless self-indulgence.
He distracted himself from his baleful intentions and set his mind back to the task of figuring out where they were. As Van had no knowledge of exactly how far a matter transporter’s range was, he deferred to the grinning object of his current rage. Unfortunately, Dallas’ answer came simply in the form of a shrug. He scanned the pitch-black room for more clues to it and, more importantly, his location.
There were strange, illuminated markings above a door over to his right. Usually his translation implants would automatically decipher any writing but these markings were retaining the appearance of unfamiliar shapes. Why could he not read this writing? Where would the Skolareans send him? If they had no intention of carrying out his sentence, why bother with a trial? So many questions, and not even a squirt of an answer to be found. Van sat down, cross-legged, on the floor. He was beginning to get desperate. Maybe it’s all a dream, he thought, yeah, a dream. That’s why nothing makes sense and Dallas’ giving me lip? Of course! All I need to do is sleep then I’ll wake up and all this’ll have been-
The room flooded with light before he could finish his thought. The two men sprung to their feet in the suddenly warehouse-sized room. The door with the weird markings ‘hissed’ open and a flock of robot guards rushed through. They surrounded Van and Dallas aiming large, cannon-like rifles directly at their heads.
“I guess that sign says ‘murder room’ huh?” smirked Van.
Dallas was too busy dealing with the whole ‘robots with space-cannons’ situation to acknowledge Van’s half-hearted attempt at comedic relief. The room fell silent, only to be cut a moment later by the sound footfalls on the hardstone floor, from somewhere across the vast expanse of room.
They both slowly turned around, being careful not to alarm the metal sentries, and cast their gaze to the source of the sound. A regal looking Skolarean was striding confidently toward them. Unlike the Skolareans that Van had met in the past, this one appeared to have a comparatively extravagant sense of dress. Whereas most of the population wore only the clothing that was most efficient for the activity they were engaged in, this particular one was wearing an outfit that would be most at home in a super-villain’s wardrobe.
The ‘costume’ was comprised of a skin-tight, black cat suit complete with matching gloves and footwear (which was relatively normal). Over this was a black, floor-length cape, held up by the kind of shoulder armour that would even be considered ‘too much’ for a hair-metal band in the 1980’s. It was covered in humongous spikes made from a material with the appearance of black glass. The dimensions of it made him look twice as broad as he clearly was. To top off the ensemble, the alien was wearing, was what appeared to be, a backwords Roman centurion’s helmet; that was also made from the same black glass as his obscene shoulder pads. The creature came to a halt just outside the circle of robots. It raised its lower right arm and snapped its long, spindly fingers. The robots made an opening in their perimeter, revealing their master’s monolithic form.
“Welcome,” he boomed, “to the planet Thosis.”
Van thought for a second. The Skolareans weren’t exactly known for their inefficiency, so probably wouldn’t send condemned people to their secret planet, just to execute them. He had the awful feeling that he was about to be used for another nefarious, and most likely fatal, scheme by someone much more powerful than him. He was not wrong.
“What’s the matter, Atlas?” thundered the heavy-metal centurion, “I can imagine that you, like most of your trivial species, would have been enthralled to discover you are currently stood where seldom off-worlders have been privileged to dwell? Do your resplendent surroundings not merit even the most monosyllabic of responses to your current situation? Well, I am disappointed.”
“What do you want us for?” enquired Van, indignantly. “You might be dressed like an executioner, but you wouldn’t bring us here if you wanted us dead. So, what bullshit scheme are you planning to drag us into?”
The Skolarean smiled, an expression Van had never seen on a Skolarean. It was unnerving.
“What a clever little ape,” he quipped, “you’re in danger of meeting my expectations, that is, if you survive long enough. So, tell me; why did you come back here? You must have known it would cost you your life…”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
The monolithic creature’s face twisted into a scowl. The edge of his lip twitched with disgust. Van had touched a nerve.
“There’s very little I don’t understand, you insulant little insect,” he spat.
He strode toward Van and Dallas, leaning forward slightly as he did. He stood before Van, towering 3 feet above him, forcing his neck to crane in order to maintain the angry eye contact he had adopted. “That’s better, now you can look up at your superior. It suits you.”
“I’d punch you in your infant-sized dick right now, but my fist doesn’t have a laser-targeting system.”
The Skolarean rolled his eyes and sighed, “Your race has an odd fascination with reproductive organs.”
“And your race should go fuck itself. Now, as I’m guessing the penalty for not going along with your stupid plan is ‘death’, so how about you answer a few questions. After all, I might choose the death option if it seems like too much of a hassle.”
Van’s neck was beginning to ache from looking up, but he held his stare. He wouldn’t give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing his pain. Another brief scowl betrayed the Skolarean’s frustration at this antagonistic response. He regained his composure quickly, and slyly asked; “What is it that you would like to know?”
“Firstly,” began Van, “who the fuck are you and why should I care. Secondly; what the fuck do you need me for. Thirdly; why doesn’t my translator read the crap above the door, and, Finally; why are you dressed like the worst drag queen in the galaxy?”
The Skolarean turned his back and clasped his lower set of hands behind him. He began to laughing morbidly to himself, holding his chin between his needle-like thumb and forefinger. He spun on his heal, his face now twisted with malicious triumph. He had expected these questions, even if he found them more unnecessarily worded than he had hoped. He bore down on Van, staring through his eyes and into his very being. In a controlled tone that was, nevertheless, showing a threat of doom within it, he answered;
“Allow me to respond to your enquiries in an order which matches the gravity of your current situation. The translator implant in that lump of flesh you call a brain, can only translate languages with which it has been programmed and that writing,” he pointed to the sign above the door, “is only known to the inhabitants of Thosis. You are here because you are going to complete a task for me, which only a member of your feeble species can perform. As for who I am,” He loomed in close until Van’s nose was almost touching the place where his nose would have been. “I- am Research Commander Thasren Vora Zeffross; Head of operations for the Skolarean bureau of covert research and development. Which is why I am dressed in my robes of office. And you should care ’who the fuck I am’ because I can have you, and the slut you once loved, vivisected, while keeping you conscious for months…”
Van swallowed hard, doing his best to keep from pissing himself. The Commander read his face and cracked a wicked smile. He stood straight once more, towering over the now horrified Van. He shot a glance over at Dallas, who appeared to be in shock.
“You can even take your trained ape,” he said to Van.
“Where are we going?” asked Van, meekly.
Commander Zeffross made a gesture with one of his hands and the robot guards lowered their weapons. He began to pace, circling Van and Dallas; like a predator who has cornered his prey.
“You are going to get a piece of information that has been denied me. I recently brokered an exchange of information with the ‘POP!!!’ corporation. Unfortunately, and unwisely, they have felt it necessary to restrict access to a recent discovery made by their research department. I have contacted them, of course, to request that the information be provided, but have been met with lies. As such, you will now be posing as one of their executives in order to gain access to the information, which you will, naturally, bring back to me. A task even a lower life form, such as yourselves, should be able to perform without too much difficulty.”
“If I’m going to ’perform’ any ’tasks’,” said Van, vailing his fear with a thin layer of cynicism, “I’ll need to know a few things, like; who do I have to impersonate, why do you need a human and, most importantly, what’s to stop us from just running away and never coming back?”
Zeffross sighed, “I tire of answering your inane enquiries. All of these questions can be answered by your chaperone.”
A slender, humanoid female walked out from behind him. Her skin was the same shade as a Skolarean, but she was only around 5”8’. Her golden hair was secured in a tight bun on the back of her head and her large, elliptical eyes were a vibrant purple. She wore a tight jumpsuit, that looked like a sharp fitting suit. An even sharper expression graced her perfectly proportioned face. Van wondered if she had been stood there the whole time, just hiding out behind her boss’ long, black cape. She stepped forward and introduced herself;
“Hello, my name is Research Agent Yukimi Dina Sephtus. You will refer to me as ‘Agent Sephtus’.”
She walked up to Van and pressed a pen shaped device to his left shoulder. She pressed a button on the side and Van felt a sharp stab. “That is to ensure your compliance,” she explained before Van could ask, “should you deviate from the parameters of your mission or refuse a direct order, I will detonate the nano-bots now in your blood stream, it is called an EED and can also deliver a powerful electrical shock. We will be obtaining the security data of a ‘POP!!!’ employee, whom the Commander has preselected, and using said information to get you into his office. As the ‘POP!!!’ corporation only hires humans, you will have to enter the facility alone. Any questions?”
“Yeah,” said Van, cradling his sore shoulder, “and I guess I should have asked sooner, but; what’s so important about the information that a drinks company is withholding? Do you want to replicate their cola recipe or something?”
“That is none of your concern, ape,” interjected Zeffross aggressively, “just follow the orders you are given and you will survive this endeavour. Agent Sephtus will accompany you aboard your ship and make sure the acquisition goes as planned. I’m finished talking now, prepare for transportation.”
Van barely had time to acknowledge what the monolithic alien had said, before a familiar flash of light blinded him. He felt the floor of the landing pad on his punctured shoulder. This month was shaping up to be the most work filled that he could remember… And he hated it…