Post by Drake on Jul 8, 2014 12:26:55 GMT -5
#2: More Than Meets the Eye Part 2
Prison Break
By Drake
Heather awoke as the room around her shuddered. At first sight, the gray walls made her think she was still in the Boeing Minerva 2, but it didn’t take long for Heather to realize otherwise. Creatures, beings of all different shapes and sizes stood around her, dressed in blue jumpsuits and cuffed at their hands…or other odd appendages.
Seeing the other cuffs made Heather realize she too was caught in the silver-stained restraints. A faint blue glow emerged from the edges as the cuffs seemed to hum with electricity. Like the others, Heather wore a blue jumpsuit.
Standing towards the front of the room holding guns that looked like they belonged in a sci fi movie were four pink-skinned, short men in white armor decorated with a yellow star on their shoulders.
Holy crap! Heather had been right! Aliens were real. Her father had been kidnapped by aliens! Where was Jack? She needed to tell Jack…
But Jack wasn’t around. Heather wasn’t even sure where “around” was. The doors towards the front of the room opened and gave Heather an answer.
Herded like prisoners—Heather quickly realized they were just that—were aliens like the ones around her. The aliens were forced into lines down an enormous room—something Heather concluded must be one part of a much larger spaceship, prison, or both. The lines led to a metal device like the scanners at airports. Each alien was stamped with a metal arm before being pushed forward and led away by guards.
Heather was knocked, quite literally, back into reality by a large green alien behind her. The beast of a being had stubby legs and arms, and its head took up more than 60% of its body. Its yellow eyes drilled into Heather. It muttered something like “kalix” before pushing Heather forward. She didn’t fight back or hesitate now. Heather marched right on forward.
One of the human-like guards led Heather into a line to the far right of the enormous room. Slowly, as she marched down the line, the amazement and glee faded away, only to be replaced by intense panic and fear. She was a prisoner on an alien…something, and she didn’t even know why! No one was around. No one she knew anyway. Jesus, did the U.S. government know about this? Did they know about aliens? Area 51, was it real? And oh God, was she even going to live to find out??
Tears began to bubble up in Heather’s eyes. Her throat got scratchy and tight. The gigantic room seemed to close in around her. Heather was just seconds away from fainting before being saved by a voice she never expected to hear again.
“Heather!” Jack Flag stood in a line to the left of Heather, a dozen or so spots ahead. “Heather!” Jack whispered again.
“Jack,” Heather mouthed. Jack tried to go back a few spots in line but was knocked forward by a guard, who probably assumed he was trying to avoid the machine ahead.
“Heather,” Jack spoke a little more loudly now, but still quiet enough so that none of the guards could hear him, “The others are dead. I saw them…they fought back. The Russians went first. Got Shot. Then the Chinese woman panicked. Got shot too. The man knew when to quit, but…” Jack’s expression darkened; his eyes seemed to fade away, “They’d seen enough. The bastards pulled him away and questioned him. Tortured him, right in front of everyone. They didn’t seem to like any of the answers he gave them, so they left him to bleed out on the ground. I heard them saying they were going to move onto the others. I think they’re talking about the Brits. If things go like they have been, we’ll be next.”
“Oh my God,” Heather whispered, “What the hell are we supposed to do?”
Jack got pushed forward by an alien behind him, “Just stay calm! Don’t fight back! Tell them whatever you think they want to hear!”
Now he was dragged away into the machine. The metal appendage stamped his hand. Heather could faintly see it formed four black lines. Two guards then dragged Jack away. He went calmly.
“Jack!” Heather cried out. Jack took one brief second to turn his head, mouth “no” to Heather, and then continue on. But something was off. Maybe Heather had imagined it, but she’d sworn she saw glee in Jack’s eyes and a wide grin on his face as he was carried away.
Soon enough, Heather found herself inside the machine. A monitor, almost like a small flatscreen tv, floated out in front of her with a message scrolled on it in an indecipherable language. Within seconds it flashed the same message in a dozen other dialects. Before Heather could ask for help in translating, the appendage appeared and stamped her hand. The mark burned as it was drawn. Harper had a bad feeling it was permanent.
When it was done, Heather looked down at her hand. Indeed, four black lines had been inked into it. Two guards then grabbed Heather, giving her no time to ponder the mark, and began to drag her away. She allowed herself to be dragged along, past aisles of doorways that seemingly led to more than a dozen cellblocks. Eventually, she found herself brought through one of the doorways and into a cellblock labeled in yet another indecipherable language.
Heather was tossed into a blue laser-wrought cell that was empty except for a bunkbed, toilet, sink, and a being that looked more rock than humanoid. The alien stood at nearly one and a half times Heather’s height. Its head was arched like a mountain, and two beady black eyes glared right back down at Heather. It had a mouth right under where a nose should have been.
“Wha’ they’d get you in ‘ere for?” the rock alien asked not only in English, but with an effeminate—if gravelly—voice. Heather now noticed the alien appeared to have breasts underneath the jumpsuit.
“Ya gonna answer me or stare at my d’ast breasts all day?” the rock alien demanded.
Heather shook herself out of her dazed state and looked the alien in the eyes, “You speak English?”
“Dunno wha’ English is, but I speak Common al righ’,” the alien said, “Now, wha’re you in for?”
“I…I dunno,” Heather backed away a few steps as the alien took a step towards her. The rock being cracked her knuckles, grinning wickedly.
“Guess, I gotta teach ya the ropes, ness,” she said, “Ya give me a straight answer when I ask for one.”
“Please…please don’t hurt me,” Heather took another step back. She could now feel the heat of the laser bars on the backs of her hands.
“C’mon, Kress, leave her be.”
Heather’s verbal guardian stood at the edge of the cell next to hers. He was tall for a human at about six feet or so, and his blonde hair stuck up wildly. Scratches and bruises littered his otherwise handsome pink face alongside a small beard. His blue eyes had a soft glow to them, as if he thought he owned the world—or the galaxy, rather.
Peter Quill grinned mischievously as he spoke up again, “Don’t want to give the new girl the wrong idea, right?”
“I know, I know,” Kress replied, backing away now with her hands in the air, “’Was just teasing, is all. Always fun with the new ones. ‘Specially here in the Fours.”
“Fours?” Heather wondered unknowingly aloud.
Peter lifted up his hand, exposing four black lines like Heather’s, “Level Four cells for the minor terrorists, asssassins, and any others deemed fairly dangerous by the Spartoi Empire.” Once he saw Heather’s blank expression, he continued, amused, “You really are new, aren’t you? What are you, anyway? Kree? I mean, you don’t look the part, but there’s no way in hell you’re Spartoi if you don’t know what the d’ast Spartoi Empire is.”
Heather shook her head, “I’m a human from Earth.”
“Never heard of it,” Kress admitted, collapsing heavily onto the bottom bunk of their bed, causing it to creak. Peter remained silent, staring at Heather intently.
“You’re speaking English, right? You’ve gotta have heard of Earth,” Heather said.
“Nope. There're these nanite 'bots that hop into your head and make communicatin' easy when you enter the ship,” Kress stated, before continuing with a smirk, “You backwater primi'ives always think the universe revolves around you. You don't even know how mucha yer culture comes from other species....”
“What?” Heather was floored. Was Kress telling the truth? If she was right, then what all had humanity been taught by alien races?
“You—you said level four criminals,” Heather began immediately, not missing a beat, “I’m not a criminal! I was just going with some of my people to Ma—to another planet when we were taken!”
“Was this your planet’s first long distance space mission?” Peter spoke up for the first time in a while, his eyes brighter than before.
“Yes, but—“
“That’s why,” Peter began, “The Spartoi have been doing that for a while now. Any primitive race too weak to defend themselves suddenly jumps into the outreaches of space? The Spartoi stops them. Usually eliminates the astronauts. It’s a law now actually. The Spartoi feel threatened by the prims—or primitives, sorry—because they tend to bring a savageness and creativity to war unlike any of the more sophisticated races. They can be a wild card. The Spartoi know that better than anyone. Ten thousands years of ruling in peace and then suddenly one of their planet-states jumps up and wages war, and actually manages to get their freedom. That species—the Badoon—may be small right now but at the rate they’re growing…at the rate they’re gaining support and conquering the galaxy, they’ll not only defeat the Spartoi---they’ll conquer ‘em. Take down the home planet Spartax and kill the king.”
“Enough, prisoner!” one of the guards, who’d been standing near the cells listening to their conversation, approached Peter and pressed something on a panel a few feet from his cell. Peter’s cuffs lit up and he collapsed to the floor, screaming.
“AGH!”
“No! What are you doing? Stop it!” Heather begged. The guard turned to her and nearly pressed another button—Heather assumed it was hers—when another man reached out his hand and stopped him.
“No,” the guard said, “She’s just a prim. And we need her conscious. She’s due for questioning.”
The other guard nodded, and then walked back to his post. Peter’s cuffs switched off, but he continued to lie on the ground. It was only now Heather noticed he was alone in his cell. No one was there to help him.
“Sir…” Heather bent down.
“Peter. Peter Quill,” the thief muttered weakly.
“Peter…that’s an Earth name.”
Peter looked up at Heather, his expression unreadable. The glow was still there.
“Earth…” Peter whispered. Heather nodded. And then he fell unconscious.
“Poor man,” Kress grumbled, “Been beaten and tortured more than anybody. Celestials only know why.”
Heather stood back up and looked at Kress questioningly. The woman motioned for Heather to sit down. She did so.
“So, can you teach me the ropes? The Spartoi Empire? Level Four? And this…Peter Quill.”
Kress nodded, “Well, the rankings go from one to five. One being petty theft, the like, and five being the wors’ o’ the wors’…”
---GotG---
Later in the day—or night, Heather couldn’t be sure which—Heather was taken away for questioning. She was led from her cell into a room a couple hallways down. Like any interrogation room on Earth, it was filled with a simple desk, two chairs on opposing sides where the interrogator and the interrogatee sat, and a light. The one big difference was that the interrogator came in with dozens of blades strapped onto his clothes, all subtlety lost over the lightyears.
“Your translator nanites are working, correct? You can understand what I'm saying?” the man asked. Heather nodded. “You are from Earth and you know a John Flag?” Heather nodded again.
“Your name?”
“Heather Douglas.”
“And do you know why you are here, Heather?” the stout interrogator, despite all the blades, was a little hard to take seriously. He was shorter than even the guards Heather had seen, and they all stood at about five-four, five-five, and he was incredibly fat. So fat, in fact, that he didn’t fit on his seat.
“Yes,” Heather admitted, “Although it took some explanation. We broke a law in the Spartoi Constitution. No prims” Heather amusingly found herself using the slang, “Are allowed to engage in long-ranged space flight unless deemed necessary by the Spartoi Empire.”
“Good, none of the other Terrans could explain that to me. It seems your race, despite its isolation, is acquainted with the Spartoi people and their greatness.” the interrogator surmised.
“No. My cellmate explained it to me,” Heather said, “We are not aware of the infallible and awesome Spartoi Empire. I have only today become acquainted with your incredible culture.”
The interrogator appeared pleased by Heather’s response. He grinned devilishly, “Why, yes, I suppose I should have guessed that. You know, don’t tell anybody this, but if I was the king then I’d have sent a party to Earth by now. Your planet is truly gorgeous, if a little behind the times. I actually think that’s what is beautiful about it…it’s almost…ancient. I can’t even think of a picture I’ve seen of Spartax when it still looked like that.” Heather tried not to laugh. This man wasn’t anything like she expected.
“We could use the help of your wonderful king, J-Son,” Heather lied, “The Spartoi could save our people from assured destruction.”
“Oh yes, you are a chaotic, messy race. That’s another reason we’d be in control of Earth if I were king; d’ast all the Krees and Skrulls. The Earth needs saving from itself, from its primitive people, no offense meant of course,” the interrogator gleamed, “You know, I quite like you, Heather. You aren’t like the others. They were all so angry, except for that John Flag man. He was just…odd.” That about summed it up. But now that the man was on her side, Heather had to ask.
“Are any of them alive?” Heather wondered innocently, “If you wouldn’t mind me asking.”
“Oh, I suppose not,” the man said, “Yes, but only one. John is alive.” Heather silently thanked God.
“Well, I suppose you know your place, and you know why you’re imprisoned, so you’re free to go. But your offense is quite serious, so I can’t promise you a pass on your execution. Do note you will be given a fair trial…”
“Execution?” Heather exclaimed, before quieting a little, “I mean, I’m sorry, but I wasn’t told that I was to be executed.”
“Why, yes,” the interrogator matter-of-factly stated, “Once we arrive on Spartax, you will be tried for your crimes and if deemed guilty you will be executed. If it makes you feel any better, I’m on your side.”
“Thank you. That makes a great difference,” Heather lied. She was slowly led out of her room and into the hallway.
She was going to be executed?!?!?! What the hell was she supposed to do? She couldn’t die! Not now, not when she was so close to finding her father…or, at least, closer.
Heather was led into a new room now. It was large, expansive, open. If Heather hadn’t been caught up in her thoughts and fears, she’d have noticed it was a cafeteria, almost oddly like any on Earth.
The guard muttered something about a click and that she should avoid the tables on the far right before leaving Heather alone. The Terran woman soon found herself hypnotically trudging down the room, ignoring the shitty excuse for food that was given to the prisoners, and sitting down beside Kress at a table near the center of the room. The alien woman saw her expression and patted her on the back.
“Found out what happens to us, eh?” Heather nodded.
“’S okay,” Kress wrapped her large, rocky arm around Heather, “Pete’s got a plan.”
“Peter’s got a plan…” Heather echoed weakly, before being knocked out of her thoughts by a tray that was slammed right in front of her. Peter Quill sat down, a wide grin on his face.
“I’ve got a plan. You want out of here?” Peter asked.
“Yes. Hell yes,” Heather couldn’t help but get her hopes up a little when she saw the smile on Peter’s face. Something about that man…
“Then I’ve got to talk to someone,” Peter stood back up as quickly as he’d sat down, “Here, don’t eat any of my food.”
Heather looked down at the pink sludge on Peter’s tray. “No promises…” Heather sarcastically joked.
As Peter strolled through the room, two guards grabbed him. Heather could see Peter mouth ‘oh no’ before getting dragged out of the room.
“What did he do?” Heather asked.
“It happens every day,” Kress explained, “I don’t know why. The Spartoi here on the R-Son,” that was the name of the ship, Heather had learned: the SES R-Son, “take him up and interrogate him for a few clicks at least. Sometimes it’s almost a quarter the day. He’ll come back down all scratched and bruised. No one knows why.”
“Well,” Kress stood up, done with her meal, “We won’t see him for a while, and when we do next he’ll be out of it, so there’s no point in wondering about his plan. He’ll tell you tomorrow at breakfast. So come on, Heather, I know it looks like flarnag, but you gotta eat something here.”
And with that, Kress led Heather to the food where the human reluctantly picked something vaguely reminiscent of a fruit salad. Tomorrow…tomorrow she’d find out what Peter had planned, and soon enough they’d get out of there. Heather had to believe that.
She had to.
---GotG---
The next day, at breakfast, Peter had finally regained his composure. He was covered in dozens of new cuts and bruises. Heather had tried to look him over, but Peter shrugged her off.
“C’mon, Heather, I want you to meet someone. I already talked to him and he’s cool with you helping out,” Peter explained. Heather nodded her head and followed Peter away. Kress followed just behind.
Peter led them to the far right of the room, where the guard had told Heather not to go. He began to approach a table full of (relatively) large Spartoi men and women who were covered in scars. Tattoos layered their pink skin to the point it looked like their natural skin color was blue. One of the men grinned wickedly at Heather. She gulped.
And then Peter turned right and sat down at a table with only one occupant—a raccoon.
“Wait…what?” Heather said. Kress sat down opposite the raccoon and motioned for Heather to sit next to her. The raccoon looked up and met Heather’s gaze. He frowned.
“We have a problem, beautiful?”
“No…you’re just…” Heather looked at Peter and pointed to the anthropomorphized animal, “He’s a raccoon.”
“That’s my name, yeah,” the raccoon nodded, “Rocket Raccoon.”
“No, your species…it’s a raccoon!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, babe,” Rocket looked a little offended, “But I promise you, I’m one of a kind.”
“You’re a talking animal. Hell yeah, you are,” Heather muttered.
Rocket stood up at a little past Heather’s knees and held his index finger up at her irritably, “Listen, I don’t know if you get off by insulting people, but enough is enough. We’ve got d’ast important things to talk about.”
“C’mon, Rocky,” Peter begged, “Girl’s new. She’s a prim. She couldn’t tell a laser gun from a planetkiller, let alone an animal from the smartest man on the ship.”
Rocket turned back to Peter and sat down, “Well, when you put it that way…”
Peter glared at Heather. She mouthed an apology and sat down.
“To the important things: how we’re getting the krutack out of here,” Rocket began, “Pete here and I’ve been planning this since we met a couple weeks ago. It ain’t much, but we gotta act soon ‘cause we land on Spartax in a week.”
“Really?” Heather exclaimed. Rocket glared at her.
“Yes, hon, we do. Not nearly as scary for me as it is for you though,” Rocket held up his hand to show two black lines over his matted fur, “I got to get out of here for other reasons. Got a job to do.”
Heather nodded an apology and motioned for Rocket to continue. This time, however, Peter spoke.
“Rocket’s built four devices to deactivate our cuffs,” Peter began.
“How? When?” Heather whispered.
“Free period. Dumb Spartoi don’t expect a Two to be able to count to ten, let alone build something to escape,” Rocket then said proudly, “They’re good. Very good. And small. Idiot krutackers will never see it coming.”
“They are,” Peter held up his cuffs, which had been unlocked to eat, exposing a small round device on the edge of his right cuff. It would be unnoticeable if Heather hadn’t been looking for it, “They’re too small to notice and they won’t come up on their scanners. Rocky’ll give them to you two tomorrow at breakfast. We act the day after.”
“The plan is to just press the devices at about the same time at breakfast that day,” Peter explained, “It’ll deactivate the cuffs. From there, we knock out a few guards, take their guns and escape. Some will have to stay behind to cause a distraction. We figure that’ll be all but me. I’ll go up to the monitor room and deactivate everyone’s cuffs. Riot ensues. We escape in the chaos.”
“That sounds risky as hell,” Heather pointed out, “We could get shot during that time. You could, too, Peter.”
“It’s the best we can offer,” Rocket argued, “At this point we gotta try it. On the plus side, we won’t be on our own on the way out. That’ll make things easier.”
Heather and Kress both gave Peter a questioning glance. Peter sighed.
“I don’t know about that, Rocket…”
“We have to! I know to everyone here it sounds like the hardest part is getting out of the cafeteria and freeing the other prisoners, but it ain’t. I’m the tactician here! Trust me when I say leaving the R-Son will be the toughest part. We’ll have guards swarming us. You’ll have to refuel your ship. The list goes on and on. We need Prisoner X.”
“Prisoner X?” Kress nearly shouted, before quieting herself, “We can’t. You’ve heard the rumors. He’s a monster. They say he killed dozens of Spartoi Law Elites. They say he’s invulnerable, immortal, that you can’t kill him, and he’s a savage, bloodthirs’y beast!”
“They say a lot of things, including I’m harmless, and we all know that’s not true,” Rocket argued, “Trust me, Prisoner X will be on our side.”
“Prisoner X…who is he?” Heather asked.
Peter ran a hand through his dirty blonde hair, “He’s…he’s the only Level Five prisoner on the ship. If Kress is right…if everyone on the ship is right, he’ll kill us as soon as we free him.”
“D’ast it all!” Rocket massaged his face, “You wanna know the truth? I’ve met Prisoner X before… before here. I know him. He will help us.”
“And we’re suppose’ ta just believe ya?” Kress wondered incredulously.
“Yes!”
“Ya really….”
“Enough!” Peter slammed his hand on the table, “Enough. Fine, Rocket. We’ll get Prisoner X.”
“If we’re doing that, then I’ve got to ask a favor,” Heather interjected, “I’d like to take the other human, Jack Flag, with us.”
“What? No,” Rocket exclaimed, “One human is enough to blow this plan to hell. I will not…”
“Fine,” Peter interrupted, “But you have to tell him, Heather.”
“I will,” Heather agreed. She began to look around for Jack as Rocket complained.
“You gotta be kidding me! Y’know how hard it is to build those devices? Really d’ast hard!”
“Well, then, you better get started,” Peter retorted. Rocket tried to argue, but Peter just pointed away, ignoring him. The anthropomorphized animal growled, hopped off the table and walked away, muttering every curse he knew.
Meanwhile, Heather finally caught sight of Jack Flag. He was sitting at a table alone. At last! It had been nearly a day since she’d seen him last! Hell, it had been nearly a day since she’d had any form of happiness, and Heather couldn’t help but be happy at the prospect of getting home. The plan seemed risky, sure, but something felt right to Heather. She would get out of the prison, and from there she would find her father and go home.
That was the plan. That was her plan.
NEXT: The plan begins, but things go horribly wrong!