Jeff Kozzi
Uncommon Criminals
Chapter 32: Wasteland
Yellow eyes peered from the darkness. The Kensol behind the eyes had seen the prisoners brought in, but only guards—torturers—seemed to leave (alive).
The chambers terrified and disgusted her. Her sense of smell was too acute; she could not distract herself from the undeniable repugnancies of misery, pain, and death. The overall stench of decay overbore all else.
Her hearing was also keen, but even the deaf would hear the screams. Even if she flattened her ears against her head, she was unable to block out the cries. They echoed through her mind long after the screamer silenced.
Her eyesight also surpassed human senses. Retinas hyperefficient in implementing all available light provided superb night vision. The darkness did not contribute to the terror that these halls held for her. The reek and sounds overpowered her sense of sight.
The room around her felt and smelled more stale than the rest of the labyrinth. When Kajerist agents ruled this understructure, this room had been their briefing office. It had been cleared when the Kajerists withdrew from Rachi, and reopened when Greyson began seizing control beneath Taie Sentinel. Differences in this room to all the others in these chambers outnumbered the similarities. The other rooms were torture chambers, constructed for that single minded terrorism with pits in the floors and chains from the walls and ceilings. The briefing room stood separate. It almost could have been any room in the complex, save its location. Here Kajerist and Blakkarrion sadists had compared notes.
As the briefing room did not suit the depths of misery that Greyson indulged from the surrounding rooms, the Oktoid had left it empty and untouched when he reopened the chambers for his own pleasures. For the Kajerists, torture had been means of extracting information that would never be willingly released. For Greyson, this was a gameroom, provider of sport and recreation and sex and fun, none consented from the victims.
Senji hoped they might now stop it. The stakes had risen, and they had no choice but to make an overdue assault. The risk of penetrating this villainy had previously outweighed the potential benefit to the larger operation. Now she had no choice: reveal herself or see Slade and their allies harmed.
She had already passed the first stage, penetrating the chambers. Lacking the manpower to place a sentry at every door, Greyson normally placed guards only at the entrance to the entire subsystem. Greyson hid the chambers perhaps more than any other aspect of his operations. Only his most trusted associates worked and played here. Most of the doors were left open, giving the sentries a better chance of catching problems by freeing the passage of soundwaves.
Senji had entered easily as the invisible woman, there to collect the towels and make a quick round before going on her way with a mastered act of stupidity. The blackguards left her unattended, forgotten instantly in the excitement of new arrivals. That advantage diminished when those captives arrived. Two sentries had been on duty, and a third had been taking liberties when Seltz and the three Dogomons brought in the new victims. Those ranks had been bolstered with six others, cramming the chambers with thirteen enemies. Greyson’s arrival peaked the number at fourteen.
She watched through the monitors that scanned the individual torture rooms and the connecting halls. The Dogomon left the cell that Greyson entered, followed closely by the Tek who hand been torturing another prisoner.
Still she waited. She felt confident that she would win a fight with Seltz, and perhaps Greyson, but she entertained no suicidal thoughts of escaping both at once, especially with the objective of getting a shattered and broken prisoner out alive. She would have to wait.
Luck favored the Kensol. The departing Dogomon reentered the hall and went to the cell where Slade and the two other victims had been brought. By the time she switched the monitor to inside the cell, the Dogomon was leaving with two brethren. She switched back to the hall monitor to ascertain that the three were indeed leaving the chambers. Almost immediately, two of the newer arrivals replaced the original two sentries. Six down, eight left, odds improving but still lined against her.
Greyson’s very selfishness proved to her advantage. Greyson usually chose the chamber victims personally, and took the first liberties with each, allowing his subordinates their pleasures only after he had wandered to newer toys. Thus unable to truly torture the real Slade and his two companions, the guards left the cell. To Senji’s astonishment, they even closed the door behind them. The Yillten remained with the sentries at the chamber entrance, but the others left the chambers. That left only Greyson, Seltz, three blackguards and nearly fifty victims, of which she could only help four.
She waited, occasionally switching her view between the rooms, but not daring to keep her monitor off the only entrance for any length of time. She had neither the heart nor stomach to watch as Greyson and Seltz whipped at the lean human. She wondered if the victim knew how lucky he was that his struggle had forced them to bind him on his side by one ankle and one wrist, making him inaccessible to easy rape. One or both of his torturers would have to disengage from the pain they inflicted to reposition him. Neither seemed willing to disengage—yet. She switched to the hall, then to the other room.
She saw little. The lights glowed brighter than she had known they could be set, too bright for the camera. She made a mental memo to inspect the complex’s specifications to see if the cameras in the Kajerist chambers matched those in rest of the complex. The blanketing effect could prove useful in the future.
She switched back to the hall. The three alien sentries chatted, one’s eyes sparkling with excitement that his waving arms and hearty nods reinforced. Her certain guess at the topic of their discussion sickened her. She switched back to Greyson. The Oktoid still battered the human, but the Tanlansi had ceased the flogging and kneeled before Greyson.
The picture was silent. The sound system installed by the Kajerists could pick up the slightest sounds, but Senji had no desire to hear the human’s screams or the snap of the whips landing against his back. Greyson’s beak moved, but she had no desire to hear what verbal assault might accent the physical. She switched back to the hall.
She held all too few advantages. The prior shift change benefitted her. When Greyson arrived he had said nothing to the sentries, and they said nothing to him, thus leaving him no opportunity to learn of the domestic he had supposedly sent. Greyson wouldn’t learn that anybody but his own lackeys and victims occupied the chambers until she could get Slade and the others out.
Her fur bristled. She flicked her tail against the wall. Her claws extended and contracted regularly with her longing to use the natural weapons. He capacity for primal ferocity could match or exceed that of Greyson or Seltz. She had seen those depths in people of all races; her involvement in both the Kajerist War and the undergalaktik had lent her ample opportunities to witness all forms of savagery and brutality. She’d sunken to those depths herself, a low that no level of civilization and refinement could extinguish in any but the most communal races.
Yet she had never reveled in the depths. She had never sought the thrill of immediate temporary guiltlessness. She’d seen enough of it in her experiences in the war. Primal evil infested the undergalaktik, evident in too many people she and her partner/boss opposed. But she had never seen it with such force and domination as in Greyson and Seltz. It hadn’t even been that ingrained in the tom who killed her mother when Senji was a cub.
Seltz left the chambers.
Senji switched back to Greyson and his captive. Senji felt her ribcage vibrate with the force of her pounding heart. She held her breath, reaching for control over her surging adrenaline.
Greyson’s arms were empty. He stood with a certain weak-kneed shakiness. His beak moved as he spoke. With no thrashing currently taking place, Senji reactivated the volume.
"—you know, Kelekt Kajer. But don’t you worry your pretty little human head, because I will be back to talk with you about the future—our future—in just a bit."
Greyson’s salutation identified Blane to her for the first time. Her heart resumed overdrive pumping. "Navan Navan Navan," she hissed of Slade, "how have you netted such an ally?" Slade’s communication after his arrest had been necessarily brief. He had told her only that he made important potential allies, without revealing their identities. His time was too short, and he had wanted no one—obviously his allies included—to suspect that he was calling for aide even while he was being led to the Veer.
Senji smiled with anticipation of the story she knew she would eventually hear. She now understood Slade’s specified desire for the Starcade when he wanted transport for Navan and Senji’s clubs. Slade did not view Cosha Kabenta with extreme favor, but he obviously recognized Kabenta’s potential usefulness in swaying Kajer’s confidence.
Her monitor followed Greyson from Kajer’s cell. He didn’t stop to look in on Slade and his other companions but strode right to the sentries. "No one’s granted liberties on the new arrivals. And no one comes in before I return."
"Yes, sir. Might I record when to expect you?"
"Couple of hours. I have to clean up." He pulled on his crotch as he turned to the waiting Yillten. "Report on the other three." One of his tentacle eyes turned towards the cell that contained Slade.
"Yes, sir. We have the heat and lights on max. You’ll want someone to lower them to your own comfort before you enter."
"Follow me," Greyson ordered, leading the Yillten from the chambers.
Senji counted to a thousand, giving Greyson enough time to teleport far enough away for anything further he might need to say to the remaining sentries more convenient to pass over a communicator.
Her count complete, she pushed her cart from the briefing room.
The sentries had no desk, giving Senji a clear line of fire. She raised her elektrolite tube and fired. The white discharge streaked down the hall and slammed into the targets with a crackle. The Qualmloid sprawled across the floor, but the Delmeen fell only to his boney knees. He raised the lasertron clutched in his long-clawed hands.
Senji fired again, releasing several charges. Three struck the alien. He slammed back into the wall, then fell to the floor and didn’t move. Senji watched him twitch for a few cautious moments, her nostrils wrinkling.
He was dead. She hadn’t meant to kill, but such results always fell beyond intentions. Slade would be upset when he saw the body, but Senji could not feel too angered or disappointed with herself. His presence in the Kajerist chambers made him too guilty for her remorse.
She wasted no time. The briefing room stood at the opposite end of the hall from the entrance. Ordinarily she would have rescued Slade first, but he was closer to the only exit. She couldn’t afford precious time running back and forth. Kajer was closer, and possibly injured by Greyson’s pleasures. She galloped forward, avoiding a look through the open door and the Qualmloid who hung there by his waist. She approached Blane’s door, trying not to hear the painful wheezing from the Garren in the next room.
Light from the hall flooded into Blane’s room, highlighting the welts and bruises on his back. He hung listlessly.
"Kelekt Kajer!"
No response. The tattered remains of his shirt hung in shreds from the collar seam.
She approached him. "Kelekt Kajer! Please, I’m a friend. I’m here to help."
The regular, belabored ballooning and deflating of his stomach gave the only indication he was still alive. Not a gasp or a moan responded to her call.
She moved around the edge of the pit. "Kelekt Kajer. Blane!"
She faced him. Beaten and listless, he didn’t look back as much as her head had intersected his line of sight. He made no effort to either examine or look away. His mouth hung open; she could smell human blood on his breath.
"Come on, Kelekt Kajer. You need to help me."
No response. She wondered if he was unconscious with his eyes open, and turned away from him. She took the room controls, slackening the chains that held him suspended above the pit. He didn’t move, but his eyes rolled to look at the plump feline woman.
Once he was three kroop lower than the floor, she eased the chains to a stop. Under four kroop tall, Senji had to lean dangerously over the pit in order to grasp at the dangling chains. Metal in paw, she pulled.
Blane reacted neither when her effort banged his head against the inside of the pit nor her quick call, "Sorree!"
She held him, eyeing the chains and the floor, briefly uncertain whether she had allowed enough slack for him to stand. When she released him to lower the chains, he began sliding across the floor, back towards the pit.
She growled to herself. This was taking too much time, and he wasn’t helping her efforts. That annoyed her. She moved back to him, again leaning precariously to grasp his bonds. She put him on his feet, but his knees folded beneath him. Senji swore to herself and leaned him over her shoulders. Supporting him, she stepped back towards the controls and switched the cuff release. The chain popped off his leg and slid back to the pit, resting at the edge. The wristlet enwrapped around his arm. His eyes seemed to bulge in examination of it as choked tears welled. She struggled to lean him against the console while she untangled his arm.
"You could help, you know."
"Help," he whispered.
"I’m trying to help, but you’ve got to help me help you."
"Help help."
"I’m helping you, but you’ve got to help me help you, because that’s the only way to help yourself."
"Hell self."
"Close enough," she whispered, relieved by even his gibberish efforts to speak. He leaned against the console, but his legs no longer slid beneath him, despite the fact that his right boot was in the slimy glob Seltz had spat out.
The chain loosened and clattered over the floor and into the pit, catching the cuff from his leg and dropping it into the pit as well. Senji swore softly to herself as she examined him.
She tenderly felt his face for broken bones. The blood had dried, but the side of his head was welted. A loose whiplash striped his forehead. A clump of hair was missing from the top of his head. There wasn’t enough of his shirt left to use, so she picked up his jacket from floor and slipped his arms through the sleeves.
"Blane, can you hear me?"
"Hell," he babbled.
"No, Senji. I’m trying to help. You have to walk with me. We’ve got to free Slade and your friends and we don’t have much time."
"Help," he said.
"Blane, say your name. Blane."
"Blame."
"Blannnnne Kajer. Blane."
"Blane Cage."
"Kajer. Jerrrr. Blane Kajer."
"Kajerjerjer. Blane Kajer."
"Good." She moved under him and wrapped his arm over her shoulders. "Walk with me, Blane. I can’t carry you. Good. One foot in front of the other, step. Good. Next. Come on, that’s a good boy. Good. Faster."
He moved with her limply. She wore Kensol tailored boots that allowed her toes—thus her claws—exposure, and chose her steps as carefully as she could. He simply slid and scuffed his feet across the floor, leaning heavily on her.
"I had no idea you were this delicate, Blane," she said, figuring he needed to hear a calm and friendly voice. "I mean, you’re one of the Renegades. I always figured you’d be a solid rock. I’m a little disappointed."
"Weak," he whispered.
"I know you’re stronger, but I need you to show me." They passed the door. She leaned him against the rim of her laundry cart. He gripped the edge on his own. His weight made the cart roll forward. Senji caught it before he fell.
"Show’m all," he mumbled.
She reached an arm around him, grateful for his lean frame. She rolled the cart forward slowly. He moved his right arm to grip her paw. She flexed her hand to give him some feeling of support.
"I’m sorry," he whispered.
She twitched her whiskers. "Don’t be sorry, Blane. Try to do better. It’s all right. All over. Senji’s here now, and she’ll take care of you."
"I’ll be good," he promised, not looking at her. He spoke silently, as if the effort drained his last energies. His eyes finally began inspecting his surroundings.
Blane and the cart both rolled along primarily under Senji’s power, slow going. Blane’s cell door slowly faded behind them. The next door grew slowly but steady closer. They approached the Garren’s cell.
Blane spared the energy to roll his head to look inside. He stopped suddenly. Senji pressed into him.
"Blane, come now. We have to keep moving. We have to rescue Slade and your companions. Just four more doors."
Blane stared at the Garren. The huge reptilian man noticed the prolonged presence outside his door and lifted his head to look at the people he assumed to be new torturers.
"No," Blane whispered, more coherently than anything else he’d said in Senji’s presence.
"Blane, please!"
Blane froze in place. "Rikki."
The Garren snorted, looking at the pair of comparatively tiny aliens. His long tail shook from its slope into the pit. A rumble rolled from his chest. Senji heard it. If the Garren were a Kensol, she would testify that he was purring.
Senji felt a tear drop on her paw.
"Oh God. I’m sorry Rik." Blane slipped from Senji’s embrace and staggered towards the door.
Senji reached for him. "Blane, wait. Stop! Blane, there are a lot of prisoners being tortured here besides you and your companions, but we don’t have time to help them all right now! Blane! We can help them most by stopping Greyson!"
Blane either did not hear her or ignored her. He stepped into the cell with renewed vigor in each step, his eyes running up and down the battered Garren.
Garrens were far larger than humans, and this one, like the one Blane had known, was far larger than most Garrens. Several scars lined his body, but his most prominent feature was on his chest. Scales and skin were burnt black in a crescent moon open on the right side, with four pointed ovals spaced ninety degrees from each other: a brand, marking this former Garren slave as Kajerist property.
Tears rolled steadily down Blane’s cheeks as his new, pre-weakened breaking point snapped. He’d freed Maverik and two other slaves on Simmel. Maverik was simple, but clearly remembered the human who had freed him while the slavers were bullying him. He had given Blane unbreakable loyalty until his disappearance following the Renegades’ return from Blaakos. Blane always wondered what had happened to Maverik.
Learning now gave no comfort. Guilt overwhelmed Blane. From the day Blane had freed him, Maverik had shown dedication and the smothering attention like that a dependent child unquestioningly gives a parent. Blane knew that Maverik was not fully capable of taking care of himself, and he kicked himself for not having kept a more watchful eye over him.
Now he saw Maverik, victim now as he had been then, banded and branded and helpless, his massive strength insignificant to the intelligence of those who would master him. The guilt added to the wasteland already Blane’s mind, crippling everything. The sight of a friend—this friend—in such need, again beaten and defeated and victimized, filled the void that Greyson and Seltz had beaten into his head.
He broke away from Senji, footsteps suddenly solid and determined. He had wondered frequently about Maverik with concern that bordered obsession. The Garren had escaped the investigations following the destruction of Blaakos as those inquiries centered around the Renegades that could be identified and found.
"Maverik, if that’s you, say something," Blane said as he neared the mammoth alien.
Maverik shook his head eagerly, all the confirmation Blane needed. None of the Renegades had ever heard the Garren say anything intelligible. If this were another Garren, speech would have revealed him.
Maverik was too large for the torture chamber. His arms and legs had been bound at the wrist and ankles, but the torturers had hung him with his chest falling towards the pit. Any other position would have been within Maverik’s reach to stabilize himself. His tail hung between his legs, snaking into the pit.
A lasertron hung on the wall with the whips and prods. Blane strode to it with a confident pace and removed it. He turned back to Maverik. "Left arm!"
Blane’s aim proved superb. The single laser pierced the chain. Maverik’s left arm fell. He caught the floor solidly and grunted with excitement.
"Right arm!" Blane called as Senji moved past him to reach the controls. She gave up trying to stop him when she saw that his attention to the Garren renewed his broken spirit by forcing his thoughts away from his own misery. But that didn’t change the fact that Greyson or his lackeys could return at any time.
Maverik’s hands were both free. "Watch your feet!" the Kensol called, releasing the chains. The cuffs opened. Maverik’s feet thundered to the floor. He pulled himself over to Blane and patted the human’s head with rough affection.
"I missed you, pal," Blane said.
A tear dropped from Blane’s cheek and onto Maverik’s massive arm. The Garren stared at it for a moment, then touched Blane’s face with one long claw and smiled a menacing, toothy grin with a mouth that could have swallowed Blane in less than two bites.
Blane lifted Maverik’s arm to shoot the remaining cuffs. Breaking the chain had severed the transmission signal that had freed Maverik’s legs. He already knew that he should have gone for the controls before the lasertron. The thought hadn’t occurred to him.
Maverik lowered his arm and held both hands away from Blane. He nodded a defiant "no," then raised his fist and whipped the chain against the floor. The metal sparked against the tile floor. Blane nodded approval.
"We’ve got to move," Senji hissed. "Greyson’s probably back on his way—we’ve got to get clear."
Blane gripped her shoulder. "Hey, kitty."
She restrained a growl as she spun towards him.
Blane tried to smile. He failed, but his effort disarmed her nonetheless. "Thanks."
Senji smiled back. He still didn’t look the same as she had seen him on viewscreens in his capacity as Shalhoon’s kelekt. The defiant squint was missing from his eyes, his posture too sullen and fearful. But he now moved on his own, and possessed more awareness than he did only moments before. "Any time." She hopped from the room, grabbed her cart and moved down the hall.
Blane wiped his eyes and looked to the Garren. "Rikki, I’m sorry we lost you. I missed you, y’know." The Garren hooted air and patted Blane’s head with several heavy taps. Blane tried to grin and pulled on the massive hand to lead Maverik after Senji.
Maverik was not sophisticated enough to notice postures of fear or defiance. He certainly didn’t understand the difference between being chained and hurt by Greyson or a group of Kajerists. He automatically assumed that Blane had come to this tunneled metal world for him, and could know of no other reason for Blane to have come. He did know that for the second time he’d been rescued by this same human, and that this little pink alien was his friend.
That was all he needed to know.