Chapter 5 (D2)
While locked in a cell, Young begins thinking on how he's going to escape from captivity. Elsewhere Mokvel continues voicing his concern that they are underestimating what the man is capable of.
Previously: Mokvel is haunted by what the Neanderthal man is capable of and much to his shock he learns that the Overseer intends to use him as way of gaining favour and status with those at High Command and beyond. This worries Mokvel as he feels they aren’t taken the threat seriously and that it’s only a matter of time before he tries a proper escape.
Young heard them chatter and grumbled to himself, knowing he could never understand what their plans were for him. His attempted probing of the invisible force field that kept him inside this cell had not, as he intended, resulted in them coming into his cell to check on him. He would have to consider other options. The design of the cell itself could hold a solution, but his head still ached and he couldn't see straight, never mind think of a plan. He sat against the wall where the chatter had come from. It had been silent for a while since he rebounded off the barrier. He wondered if they were still observing him. That question was soon answered when one of the Greys appeared outside his cell flanked by two other greys armed with the same pulse weapon that had knocked him out. The Grey took great care in putting the tray down and pushing it inside the cell via a small opening that had appeared in the barrier close to the floor. The strange coloured contents of the plate looked unpalatable and the rotten smell made him scrunch his nose. But as if to remind him he couldn't think on an empty stomach, he heard himself growl. Needs must, I guess.
He knelt and noticed they had given him a tiny fork-spoon-shaped tool to eat the slop. He scooped some and tasted it, chewing for a short while before forcing himself to swallow the acrid-tasting thing. Whatever this food was, his body did not enjoy it. He jumped to his feet, kicking the tray aside; he ran to the barrier and projectile vomited onto the Greys still present and despite their blank faces, they each looked none too pleased by his actions. Some of it rebounded back onto him. He staggered back, using his arm to wipe his lips clean. Afterwards, he looked over his shoulder at the spilt mess while his observers chattered, pointed, and sneered with those gangly grey fingers of theirs.
“Not meat!” He declared, reaching down to the tray and launching it and the food at the barrier. He saw the flicker of fear in their eyes as they all jumped backwards. He also saw the ripple of the barrier as it struggled to maintain its cohesion. If only there was an easier way to damage it and be free…
He began making gestures that looked like he was scooping water. Do they even know what water is?
They all looked confused until another alien showed up. This one was familiar to Young. This one had somehow survived his wrath earlier. The man spat on the floor in disgust. The alien urged those present to leave and held up the palm of their hand so that it was as close to eye level with Young as possible. A projection emerged, showing a stream of water. The alien then proceeded to speak in large confusing clicks that made him raise an eyebrow. A few minutes later, it all made sense in what the alien was trying to say as the same aliens from before showed up with a bowl of clear liquid. Water? They carefully slid it into the cell, and Young crouched down to scoop the liquid into his mouth. The sudden tang made him bat it aside in disgust. The alien nodded and sent them away again. Now annoyed at this strange game, Young gestured from himself to the alien and pulled a finger across his neck. When the aliens returned, the bowl was once more slid inside. He stared at his bruised, burned, and bloody face in the transparent bowl. For little beings, they sure had caused him a lot of trouble. He crouched again and scooped the not water into his mouth. To his surprise, his body did not reject it. It left his throat no longer dry, and even the pain in his head subsided a little. This gesture by them changed nothing of what he thought about them. He was still their prisoner, and he had no plans to remain that way. He spat at the force field and, to his satisfaction, it went through and landed on the alien's cheek. They made a mild gesture of wiping it off before shrugging and walking away.
I’ll kill you all. That’s not a threat, but a promise. I’m not staying here. And when I'm done, you'll regret ever thinking you could contain me.
Mokvel touched his collar and opened a communication with the Overseer.
“How is he?”
“Restless, volatile, and unpredictable,” Mokvel said.
“Is that all?”
“Where are you now, Urlak?”
“In my quarters.”
“We need to talk.”
“If you insist.”
Mokvel cut his link and hurried through the vast corridors of the ship, making his way to the bridge section. It also provided easy access to the Overseer's private quarters and allowed him to be on the bridge in case of an emergency. A few of Mokvel’s fellow Greys waved at him as he passed by them and entered, into the cool private suite; almost all of it was white with a humming blue light overhead. The Overseer sat behind a transparent glass desk.
“You want to talk, Mok.”
Mokvel marched to the table and leaned on it. “He needs to be put out of his misery. The longer we keep him here, the more he learns about us and about this ship. You can’t see it, can you? He’s not some dumb ape.”
“As I said before, don’t overestimate a dumb ape.”
“Urlak.”
“Same genus.”
"Why do you want to keep him alive so badly?" Mokvel asked, finally stepping back.
“He’s as much a weapon as everything else on that world. There’s so much untapped potential and let’s be honest, we’ve barely cracked it open.”
Mokvel scratched at one of his long, wiry fingers. "You told them, didn't you?"
The Overseer held up his hands. “It would leak eventually; it's better to be ahead of the curve.”
“And who did you tell?” growled Mokvel.
"The Ragsiba Warband. They are the closest fleet to our current orbit and are on their way to supply us with a better means of securing more potential livestock."
“This is a bad idea; one is difficult enough, but you want to bring more of them off-world?”
“Your opinion –”
The light flickered on and off overhead. In that brief silence, someone began pinging the communication system built into the Overseer’s desk. He pressed a button, and they appeared as a projected hologram. “We have a problem with the prisoner.”
“Elaborate.”
“He’s managed to break out and is tearing his way through our protectors.”
“Where is he heading?” the Overseer asked, leaning forward not hiding his curiosity at these concerning developments.
“Not sure, his movements are sporadic, and if I didn’t know better, he’s also using our maintenance tunnels to get around being easily seen.”
“I told you not to underestimate him,” Mokvel said while folding his arms.
The Overseer leaned back, unconcerned. “All this does is show the Warband why we should have an army of them scattered across various worlds that haven’t yet submitted to our rule. Imagine the chaos a group of Terrans could cause if instructed or implanted!”
“If this all goes wrong, it’s on you, Urlak. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Overseer Urlak’thul smiled, stood up and headed for the bridge. “As I was going to say, your opinion is noted, Mokvel. We should prepare to meet our guest, if he’s as smart as you say he is, he’ll be here real soon.”