Double Suns - Twisted Mirrors - Episode III

By Charley Blackwolf

The huge snake had seen one of those with fire drop a small bundle, and knew that there was something alive in it. Cornered, the elapidae rose up, spread its hood and held its ground.
They stopped, and stood staring at the huge head in front of them as it slowly swayed, matching the pulsating glare from their bodies with its coal red eyes. Telepathically Voltex yelled, "Wait! Don't move! We are still out of its strike zone. Silack, Sasha, hold this position, just for a moment."
They looked out along the river where hundreds of the huge snakes still crawled along the beach. Like an angry mass of thick black vines the vipers rolled and weaved, crisscrossing each other's bodies, then raising their heads up high to sway to and fro like giant stocks of ebony grass rocking in the wind.
Episode III continues to reveal the results of outside conquest and the depth of depravity of all species in a universe where living things survive by eating other living things. While there is love, honor and civilized behavior for which all species capable of compliance the universe is a brutal and violent place where the strong survive and the weak perish.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 6, 2017
• ISBN: 9781483598154

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CHAPTER 1

THE RETURN

His mind empty of all thought, he sat on the floor, quietly waiting. With its towering glossy white hospital walls that seemed to go on forever, the cell was located somewhere deep in the depths of a building. With the exception of a single screen-covered aperture for ventilation, there were no openings in the walls and high overhead several lights continuously burned to shower bright rays of illumination down into the room. Originally made for beings much larger than the current occupant, it held a sparse, but comfortable setting with sanitary facilities and a huge bed in its far corner.

Though for the most part he only wore the pants, his captors had provided him with a fresh suit of clothing of white cotton-like cloth with a very fine weave. The simple shirt and pants were well made and had been cut down from an Arkin’s giant stature to fit. They had even thought to make him a pair of sandals and a long draping coat.

The coat was made of a bland brown cloth much like the hospital tent on the surface where he had first been treated. He used it often as padding to sleep on and it still showed a dim outline of his body from the previous night’s sweat stains as it lay drying near the edge of the bed.

The bed was almost as tall as he was and was awkward for him to climb up on. Only by stepping up, ladder like, along the carvings on the thick bedpost could it be reached without difficulty. His body had told him that it was hotter up on the bed, and he usually took advantage of the coolness of the concrete floor and slept under the bed on the coat.

The building was buried deep underground, and unlike the blistering dry surface of the planet, here it was wet. The air hung heavy, humid, almost jungle like and had the smell of slowly rotting garbage. She had told him that the Corians preferred the damp underground climate. It was normal for them, as it facilitated their larva and pupa states and helped promote the egg laying by the queens. Spending the bulk of their time there, the Corians usually only went to the surface during the night.

Over it, the bed had a canopy that protected it from the droplets of moisture that formed along the wall tops and high up on the ceiling. Outside the canopy the condensation fell like an incessant rain for a short time each dawn and dusk as the dew point was transversed with the start of morning’s light and the evening’s fall of darkness. Finally gathering in small rivers, the morning’s moisture flowed along the sloped floor through a drain in the middle of the room to be carried away by a central drainage system.

Here, deep in the bowels of the planet, he knew neither light nor darkness. Only the temperature and the room’s condensing rain suggested any external change in the planet’s climate. That and the changing noise of loading and unloading of the air conditioning units and the air compressors as they brought fresh air down from the surface to supply the underground city surrounding the Central Medical Facilities.

He had been there for some time now, but still only the most basic of his instincts were functioning. The noise of the machines and the brief periods of condensing rain gave him some limited sense of time and hunger. He knew hunger. Yes he knew hunger, and it told him that in a few moments the huge arthropod guard was scheduled to bring him food.

To his body the dank smells and the humid heat were oppressive. Relentlessly they hung in the air like a heavy damp curtain. But they were together, they were one he and she—the one that had joined him in the cold, the one who had brought him here and saved him from death—yes, they were together and that was all that mattered.

Like echoes in a bottomless pit, he felt a series of thoughts cross through his mind. I sense that the heat is again causing us discomfort. It will be cool soon, the night is approaching. The guards are here … they bring food.

His silver eyes turned up as he heard the locks turn in the door and he watched as a small metal plate fell open. The guard peered in at the man sitting on the floor and in his whistling form of communication said, Hey! You … dummy, come and get your food.

The silver eyes focused on the sound and the Klaskov rose. Seeing the movement of the weapon the guard quickly said, Okay … okay…. I’m sorry. Eat your food, before it gets cold. Good for you. Arrkass shells … much protein. Good … good alien.

Then he turned to the other one standing beside him, There, you see what I mean? Any threatening voice or movement and the Klaskov is ready to kill. But he does not speak. It is very strange … he seems to have no mind.

The other arthropod placed his multi-lensed eye up to the opening, So that’s the alien. He’s smaller than I thought he would be. You hear all kinds of stories. He seems to be functioning okay. What do the doctors say?

They say the brain scans show he has lost all ability to form conscious thought. Apparently he survives only on instinct. See how wary he is when he eats … it’s like a wild beast drinking while carefully watching for an attack. They watched while the man squatted over the plate and used his left hand to eat while cautiously watching them out of the sides of his eyes. The second one said, He has the same eyes as our soldiers. That Klaskov—whew, it’s the new Model MX80A. That’s the unit used by the Special Forces Agency. I’ve only seen couple like it. The MX80A is a very unique weapon. It’s only carried by officers, those responsible for interrogating prisoners. I’m told it has special sensors and circuits in its microprocessor that tells them when someone is lying. He looks to be dangerous. Why do they not take the weapon away?

They think it might be keeping him alive. I have heard that he was wounded very badly in some sort of off-planet encounter and should have died but the Klaskov brought him to an aid station. Not only that but it was continuously aimed at the doctor who administered the plyflex and repaired his damaged lung. I am told he is much like an Arkin, just a lot smaller.

What are they going to do with him?

"Oh, I don’t know. Study him, I guess … then most likely put him on display for a while or kill and dissect him. There are many things they don’t understand about him … like why the Klaskov microprocessor managed to link up to his basic biological functioning and keep him alive when he should have died. To be sure, it’s a very strange situation. Apparently his wounds healed in a remarkably short period of time, no one knows just exactly why.

But I know they plan to make a decision soon just a while ago I overheard Doctor Carn say that they were going to move him somewhere else. Someplace more secure. He believes having a humanoid alien in our midst with the Klaskov attached is far too dangerous. Doctor Gants on the other hand wants to leave things as they are and keep him here at the research center until they can complete more testing. Who knows … Doctor Carn is the director for this section, so he will probably get his way.

The second one said, He is small, but well-muscled. I wonder if all like him are so well developed?

The first replied, "He didn’t come here that way. He was on sterols for a while. On the last tipset they stopped his medication but his body seems very receptive to that sort of therapy. During the time he took them his weight almost doubled and, as you can, see he has undergone a lot of muscular development … much more, I’m told, than they expected. His food is almost all protein, mostly from ground up Arrkass shells.

Well, anyway, I’ll be glad to be rid of him. The merciless ones from the Special Forces Agency are going to take over watching him and should be here right after he eats to pick him up.

He turned away from the cell door and said, Okay, let’s go. Come on, I have to lock up. You have to be gone before any of them get here. You know what a loyal, uncompromising bunch of Arrkass droppings they are. I will get in a lot of trouble if they or anyone else finds out I brought you here.

As the key twisted and the tumblers fell in the lock the entire door blew off its hinges and decapitated the guard. His friend watched in horror as he saw the enameled head tumble to the floor. As it hit, it danced for a moment and then, leaving a bloody streak of purplish fluid in its wake it rolled until it smacked up against the wall and lay face up with sightless eyes staring off into nothingness.

He momentarily stood frozen in shock, watching while the guard’s body slowly fell in a crumpled heap to lie twisting on the floor in front of him with gushers of purple fluid issuing forth from the upper neck segments. Rapidly he turned and lowered himself on his forelegs to run, but stopped when his multifaceted eyes saw the man step through the twisted steel of the still-smoking door and stand with the Klaskov pointed at him. He stood and raised his front claws and in a quiet whistle said, Easy now, I intend you no harm.

In the background he could hear alarms going off and the area isolation doors slamming shut. The thought flashed through his mind. The guards are on their way. I can’t go anywhere! The area is blocked off!

Then he looked back at the humanoid standing in the mangled doorway and mumbled to himself, I just have to keep things calm until they get here. Careful, don’t do anything stupid. Then he shook his head thinking, Why did I come here?!

Voices echoed through the tunnels as the squads assembled and made their approach to the area. Red raised the rifle as the microprocessor in the Klaskov sent the signal, It is time for us to leave, and they mean to separate us … to study why we are one. This one has to die.

Seeing Red’s hand tighten on the trigger the arthropod screamed, No! No… Wait! Then he crumpled in a smoking heap as the mixture of protons blazed through his middle segment and ripped his body plates apart.

But… why? Why? He mumbled as he lay next to the dead guard, trying desperately to stop the purple blood that poured from his dying body. Suddenly as the shock hit his nervous system, his mandibles clenched—he coughed once and lay still.

The silver eyes turned in the direction of the sounds made by the guards and the closing isolation panels. He picked up the brown prison coat the Corians had made for him, carefully slipped her through the right sleeve and then, like a cape, draped it across his left shoulder as he felt her thoughts fill his mind. This way … through the floor … they will not expect that. We are small. Many of the old mining tunnels are below us. Will use them … we must escape. They mean to kill us. Return to the desert … there is safety there.

He directed the Klaskov toward the floor plates and the rifle quickly cut its way through the structural stone and underlying steel liner plate to reveal dark compacted soil. Slowly the rifle began to work in a circle making a hole just large enough for them to enter. As it cut through, the heat of the burn fused the soil on the inner edge of the tunnel to prevent its collapse.

Now! He felt the thought and jumped into the hole. Upon landing in the bottom, he turned the rifle up and as if working with wax quickly fused the surface together. Then he turned and began to burn his way deeper into the planet.

Cautiously, the guards opened the isolation door and began to crisscross the area with Klaskov rifle fire. Doctor Gants yelled, On stun! On stun! Don’t kill him, you fools-there is too much to learn!

The squad leader pushed him aside, Please doctor, get out of here! The alien is a danger to us all. He has apparently killed his guard and another gentle-one. You have no place here, this is a military matter. If you do not do so voluntarily, I will have you forcibly removed!

Then turning back to the ruined mess in front of him he shouted, Where is he? Where did … There! Through the floor! He’s sealed it up! The mines … he must be headed for the mine shafts. If he gets there he’s gone. Call the Director! See if we can flood this section! Then, stunned, the squad leader stood mumbling to himself, How … how did he know?

His shortwave operator came up beside him, Harnd, I have the Lady Secretary. The Director is in cocoon and unavailable. We can’t flood the section beneath us. Both Sections 3 and 4 have active mining in process. She says they will evacuate as soon as possible and suggests we inert the atmosphere with Axargon, like we do for fires. It’s better than flooding with liquid as damage to the shaft will be minimized and from what we know the human probably cannot survive in an atmosphere with no oxygen.

Squad Leader Harnd turned and yelled after Doctor Gants, Doctor Wait! Don’t go yet. Doctor, can the alien can live without oxygen?

The Doctor turned and answered, It is doubtful, he is humanoid … and though different that the Arkins, I strongly suspect that in an atmosphere of something less than 16 percent oxygen he will cease to function.

Good! The squad leader replied in a tone of smug accomplishment. Tell the Lady Secretary we request her permission to proceed. After that, call the Mining Damage Control House and ask them to evacuate and purge all of the West Tunnels with Axargon.

With a thump Red fell through the roof of one of the mine shafts. A single black electrical wire ran along the ceiling, stopping about every ten feet to connect into an outlet that held an electrical light enclosed in a wire basket. Rising to one knee, he peered up and down the dimly lit tunnel and saw that it was dry here. There was nothing, only the slow rise of fine dust around the area he fallen in. He listened for a moment and heard the grinding of machinery. Thoughts entered his mind as she quietly spoke in a soothing way, Cables, sweet one. No cause for alarm. It is the elevators. Do not fear, we are one. This way, quickly. He stood and began to slowly trot down the tunnel, dragging the Klaskov slightly behind him. Deeper and deeper they went, down into the depths of the mine shafts that pierced the center of Corian.

A few moments later and far above them, purge valves opened and in a silent path the deadly gas followed, slowly displacing the life giving oxygen as it wound its way down and through the tunnels. A transparent shadow with a molecular weight heavier that air, it pushed aside the breathable atmosphere and gave no indication of it deadly capabilities.

Winding their way through the tunnels, they came upon an intersection of three and stopped for a moment to allow her sensors to gather data. The Klaskov’s microprocessor analyzed the information and began to mathematically calculate the best probabilities of escape. Quietly waiting, Red’s chest heaved in effort to get another breath. Then he sensed something—somehow she was telling him that the gas makeup in the atmosphere was gradually changing. Suddenly that which had been long hidden deep in his mind surfaced—like a lightning bolt fear struck! It was in his memory, learned long ago as an apprentice welder, danger! Suffocation! Inert gas—argon. Must get out! Quickly!!

Through its bond with the human, the Klaskov’s internal circuitry sensed the fear reaction and knew that there was some sort of serious and immediate danger. But it didn’t know what it was. Instantly it shifted from the probability calculations for their escape and began searching the data banks it had copied from the man’s mind. But, there was nothing—here was something that it wasn’t programmed to recognize. Based on all of the sensor input no known danger was in existence. Quickly, thousands of plasma chips in the tiny microcircuits began to search for like situations from its past programming.

Not sure what to do, the Klaskov sensed a momentary loss of oneness with its companion and in a desperate attempt to protect, it froze all muscular activity and held the man in position for a precious few seconds before it would let him move to ensure they were not taken into a situation more dangerous than they were already in.

Then, finally, by reprogramming itself to combine with the fear impulses of its host, the complex weapon system understood that it was something to do with the atmosphere. Something was wrong with the atmosphere that represented a danger to them. Then it understood, They could not breathe! Not breathing could lead to their death!

Now understanding the seriousness of the situation, the Klaskov began to surge a series of high voltage electronic impulses through the nervous system to help the adrenalin surge initiate their escape.

Suddenly, as if all the muscles in his body were on fire, Red whirled and tried to run back up the tunnel. But too late—too late! His lungs filling with argon Red gasped and fell. Now aware of the source of the danger the Klaskov used one of its sensors to rotate Red’s arm to point at the ceiling. A fiery hole began to blaze as the Klaskov left a blackened circle in its cut through the tunnel wall.

As the blood pumped through his body the absence of oxygen caused his strength to fail and his arm began to drop. Losing the focus point she stopped cutting and screamed in his mind, Up! Up … we must stand! Strength, we need your strength. On the target! Hold on the target! We must get to the surface … we will die here!

In blind desperation Red rose to his knees and with his free hand grabbed at his chest and coughed. With his lungs begging for oxygen he reached into the gloomy darkness of fading vision and found the tunnel wall. Savagely he clawed out and felt his fingernails split with a sticky wetness that ran red over his fingertips. In that brief moment his signature for life’s struggle was left in a series of bloody marks that showed his vain search for some sort of imperfection along the glass smooth sides of the tunnel that might serve to give hope and save the moment.

Then again he fell. This time heavily on his chest. His mouth opened and the contents of his lungs were quickly expelled. Eyes bulging, he lay face down in the fine dust of the tunnel’s floor with the Klaskov pointed slightly up and crossing over his extended arm.

For the briefest of moments nothing happened and then again feeling the loss of oneness with its host and with a sense of extreme loneliness and desperation, the weapon began to cut. Focusing all of its power in to a single narrow red beam of high energy protons it began to slice its way through one of the side walls of the tunnel. Suddenly the slick protective wall ruptured under tons of pressure and sandy soil crashed down around them.

The dust and debris continued to fall in huge heaps, burying his legs and sealing off the tunnel above them and its deadly invisible host. Red opened his mouth, tasted the tunnels dust and gasped. It was damp and had the rank odor of decayed garbage but it was luxurious in the richness of its oxygen as it filled his lungs.

On the surface the seismic monitors registered the tremor caused by the cave-in deep in the mine. Squad Leader Harnd noticed an alarm indication on his monitor screen and said, It looks like something has happened in section 3. The seismic monitors have registered soil movement. He turned to one of his short wave operators, Check with the Secretary. Were any explosive operations in progress? See if the main office can give us a report on this. I think this is an old section of the mines, closed off long ago. I don’t see how our quarry could have gotten there—at least not this quickly. I suspect that this is an unrelated incident. Probably just a minor cave-in somewhere in one of the abandoned tunnels. I don’t want to leave anything to chance, though.

The short wave operator spoke in to his chest microphone, listened intently to the receiver implanted in the side of his head and then said, The Secretary reports that a major wall collapse in tunnel number 577 - West, Section 3, Quadrant 37 has occurred. From the magnitude of soil displacement it is very likely that the tunnel is now completely sealed off. This tunnel is an active exploratory unit that connects with the rest of the western section of the mine and should already be flooded with the gas. She also says, based on our knowledge of humanoid life forms, if he is in that area he is either near death or already dead.

Harnd, extracted the covering from his mandibles in happiness mumbling, Good, good. We will just let things set for a while and then send out a search party. It shouldn’t take long.

Disgusted at the ruthlessness shown by the Special Forces Squad Leader, Doctor Gants spoke, And then what? You bring him to us and we get to dissect him?

Quickly turning to face the doctor, with mandibles exposed in aggression, Harnd lashed back, He killed, Doctor! He and that weapon pose great danger to all around him! What would you have me do? Anyway, in my opinion something that can’t control its behavior deserves to die. It is of no use to anyone!

The Doctor replied, "Perhaps under normal circumstances he could. It wasn’t his fault. He was frightened! An alien, out of his environment, completely scared out of his wits and apparently at the mercy of one the machines we developed. Who is to say he had any concept of the situation? We could have contained him, killing him was needless. There was much we could have learned. It is this sort of behavior that makes us no better than the Arkins …