Sticks and Stones: A Trek Novel

Chapter Six

Chapter SixSwift felt like the newest exhibit in an alien zoo.

Dozens of furry faces peered through the transparent wall at him and Turner. The Vox spectators jostled and jockeyed for the best view, pressing their snouts and sometimes their entire bodies against the see-through polymer barrier.

"Nothing like a little privacy," muttered the Exogenesis captain, turning away from the gaping onlookers.

Yet again, he surveyed the bounds of the small cell into which he and his chief engineer had been thrown. Though all four walls were transparent, the one facing the mob of street-side curiosity seekers provided the biggest distraction. Two other walls bordered adjacent cells from which handfuls of Vox prisoners stared back at him. Another wall faced the corridor through which he and Zeke had been led; somewhere in that wall's surface, there was a door…but after sliding shut behind them, it had melted into the surrounding polymer and could not be seen.

Swift wished that he could melt into the polymer and disappear, too. By keeping his back to the gallery window, he didn't feel so conspicuously stared at…but there were still the Vox prisoners on either side and the Vox guards lined up in the corridor. Also, thanks to the transparency of the entire building, Vox looked in from the floors above and through the walls of all the other cells and rooms on Swift's level.

On the bright side – and it wasn't much of a bright side – Swift could search his surroundings in all directions for any sign of Mariko or J'Tull…not that there was any sign of them.

When it came to J'Tull, this wasn't necessarily a bad thing. As he and Zeke were carted off from the ministers' tower, Swift had seen J'Tull break away from the mob and run toward him…only to be caught short by a knot of attackers. Before his line of sight was blocked by the Vox captors hauling him off, he had last glimpsed her plowing into her opponents, arms and legs whirling in a ballet of Hephaestan martial arts.

As long as he couldn't see her in the prison complex, Swift held out hope that J'Tull was still at large.

On the other hand, he just hoped that Mariko was still alive. She had been the focus of the Vox's rage; her absence suggested more dire possibilities.

"Still no sign of them?" said Zeke, sitting on the floor in a corner opposite the ogling crowd. The only other place to sit was a bench jutting from the wall closest to the gallery window, molded from the ubiquitous transparent polymer.

Swift shook his head. "How long would you say we've been in here?" He couldn't check his wrist chronometer because the Vox had taken it, along with Zeke's chronometer and communi-link.

Zeke grimaced as he dabbed at bloody scratches on his arm with a strip of cloth torn from his sleeve. Of the two of them, he had taken the worse beating in the riot. "Seems like a week," he said, "but I'd guess an hour or two."

"That leaves eight or nine hours until the fleet gets here," said Swift, kneading his hands. "We may get that up close first contact with them after all."

"Oh, good," said Zeke. "And they seemed like such nice guys."

"I don't think the Vox paid much attention to our warning," said Swift. "All they cared about was that one word Mariko said."

"They weren't listening before that, either." Zeke hissed as he dabbed at a particularly sore scratch. "They're not exactly a trusting bunch."

Swift paced to the wall of a neighboring cell and placed his palm against it. The three Vox occupying the cell stared back at him but didn't move. "We need to keep trying to talk to them," he said. "Maybe someone will listen."

"That'd be tricky," said Zeke, "even if we had a clue how to speak the language."

"At least we know one word not to use," said Swift. He smiled, but it took an effort; he had such an awful headache, he felt like his skull was going to split open. "That's a start."

"The way this day's been going," said Zeke, "I'll bet we come up with some other words to make 'em mad."

Swift rapped on the transparent panel separating him from the next cell. "Hello," he said, but the three Vox in the cell did not respond or even budge. "Swift," he said loudly, placing his hands on his chest. "I am Swift."

The steady stare of three pairs of black pearl eyes was his only reply.

"See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil," said Zeke.

"Swift," repeated Swift, again touching his chest…then extending his hands, palms up, toward the three Vox. "You?"

This time, his reward was more than he'd bargained for.

"Swift!"

It started with a single voice, but not from the cell next door. Swift heard it clearly from the direction of the gallery wall, from someone in the gawking crowd outside.

It didn't stop there. As soon as he looked their way, the crowd grew more agitated…and the word was repeated by multiple voices.

"Swift. Swift."

More voices joined in, and still more. Soon, it seemed that every Vox in the gallery was calling his name.

That wasn't all they were doing. As the Vox chanted, they copied his gestures, clapping their clawed hands against their chests. When they reached out, palms up, as he had done, they added another word to the chant.

"You? You?"

The level of the clamor rose, becoming loud enough in the cell that Zeke had to holler to make himself heard.

"Monkey see, monkey do!" he said. "Maybe they'll throw us a banana!"

Stepping to the gallery window, Swift raised his hands toward the audience, exciting them even more. As the Vox raised their own hands, they hopped and danced and thumped against the wall, causing the colorful tints in the polymer to ripple.

"Swift! Swift!"

"Listen!" Swift shouted over the din. He pointed a finger straight up in the air. "Up there!" he said.

"Li-sten! Li-sten!"

"Up there! Up there!"

Swift's headache was getting worse. "Ships!" he said, swooping his hand down in a smooth arc meant to suggest the flight path of a spacecraft. He repeated the gesture with his other hand, then again with both hands. "Many ships!"

The audience copied his gestures and chanted his words with wild enthusiasm. They bounced around and flashed their teeth and yelped in a high-pitched, quick-fire way that sounded to Swift a lot like giggling.

They were laughing at him.

"Forget it," he said, throwing down his hands in surrender.

"For-get it! For-get it!" howled the Vox, every one of them throwing down their hands in the same way.

"You're a hit," said Zeke with a grin.

Swift scowled. "This is going to be harder than I thought."

"Har-der than I thought," repeated the Vox. "Har-der than I thought."

Sliding down to the floor beside Zeke, Swift tipped his head back against the wall and sighed. Zeke chuckled and sympathetically patted his shoulder.

Five minutes later, their interrogators arrived, pushing gurneys that bristled with evil-looking attachments.