Star Runners: Scorpions

Chapter 7

7

Frigid air seared Ryker’s trembling fingers and toes. Her lips parted over chattering teeth. Folding her arms over her bare chest, she collapsed into the fetal position. She slid the fingers of her right hand down her leg.

They had taken her clothes…

Forcing her eyes open, she saw nothing but a blur. Distant points of light slid past her as she drifted in a sea of stars.

Shaking her head, she fought through a muddle of memories.

Drop ships cornering her. A loud voice on a speaker.

She rubbed her face with cold hands, wiping her eyes.

The chatter of voices echoing up the rocks. Orders barking from a deep voice. Boots pounding a wet, rocky surface.

Was that memory…from Lian?

She thought of weeks spent in underground bunkers and caverns, avoiding endless shelling and strafing runs by the Tactron Coalition. Her bunker had been infiltrated before…a strike team from the Coalition killing everyone in her pod as she slid into a ventilation shaft to hide. Two days later, she emerged when she could no longer fight off thirst by licking condensation off the pipes.

When she found her people, the guardians who raised her since she could remember, they remarked on her good fortune. What the Coalition would have done to a young girl of the Rollian resistance…

Her mind sharpened, images coming into focus. The wet rocky surface. The underground river, cold like a thousand needles penetrating her skin. The men chasing her—the Marines.

Zahlian Marines.

Her head cleared.

The reality of her situation gripped her heart like icy tentacles. Her greatest fear had been realized. Despite all her efforts on the moon, she had been captured. Not just by pirates or marauders; she was now a prisoner of the Zahlian Navy. A prisoner with no identification, no rights in the known galaxy.

Searching her surroundings, she rubbed her naked arms. She floated in zero gravity. An energy field extended on one side of her like a shimmering blue bubble. Beyond it, stars glistened. She gasped and turned around. On the far side of her sphere extended a flat surface of metal. Glancing to her left and right, she realized her spherical cell was on the side of a space station, maybe even a ship.

Looking around, she saw no other energy bubbles along the hull. Had they left her out here to freeze? More importantly, how long had she been in this enclosure?

She reached out with her foot toward the shimmering blue energy field. If she could kick off the field, perhaps she could get closer to the hull and—

Zap!

Pain jolted through her foot and up her leg. Grimacing, she pulled her legs to her stomach and rubbed the affected foot. It throbbed like she had dipped her toe in acid. She looked up. The shock had sent her tumbling toward the hull. An octagonal hatch with a grip stretched out beneath her. She reached out and grabbed it.

The steel was cold—colder than anything she had ever felt before. Scanning the hatch, she saw nothing resembling an oxygen vent. Either they didn’t plan on leaving her in here long, or they planned to let her die in this cell.

She remained crumpled against the hatch for hours, staring into the void and longing for the sight of a planetary body or a space station—anything to signify her time floating in this hellish version of the Glistening Orb would soon be over.

Fatigue swept over her. She fought against it, knowing to fall asleep in such temperatures could kill her.

A red light glowed, beaming on top of her from the ship. Keeping one hand on the grip, she shielded the light with her other hand. The blinding light extinguished just as a blue scanning laser shot from the hatch, flickering on her toes. It moved up her body.

The scanning laser stopped. Four metal pops in quick succession rattled the hatch’s grip. She braced herself.

A blood-red outline of the octagonal hatch glowed. She swallowed, wondering if the hatch would pull her in or blast her into the vacuum of space. Each heartbeat stretched like an eternity in the silence.

The hatch popped and slid open. She let go of the grip as the metal door disappeared into the ship. A dark chamber loomed in front of her. A florescent light flickered to life, illuminating a small airlock. A black strap like a safety harness floated toward her as she drifted in the opening.

She grabbed it and gave it a tug, pulling herself inside. The florescent lights buzzed over her head. She smelled something familiar…alcohol maybe? Perhaps iodine? It smelled both clean and sick simultaneously, kind of like a hospital.

The outer door rumbled shut behind her, jolting her as she floated over the deck. With a whooshing sound, the atmosphere equalized. Her stomach lurched as artificial gravity from the vessel pressed on her. Her body floated to the deck. First her toes, then her heels settled on the cold surface.

And then the lights went out.

Lights from a muzzle-mounted LED blinded her.

“What are—”

The stock of a rifle smashed into her gut. She coughed. A strong hand yanked on her hair, arching her body. They jabbed a dry and rough cloth into her mouth. It tasted like fuel and beach sand. They lifted her into the air. Acid crept up her throat as men carried her naked body from the airlock.

The ceiling passed, lights blinding her until she saw nothing but spots.

Think. Don’t panic. Pay attention.

They carried her down the bright corridor, light still pressing against her eyelids. The men took a left. Then a right. Then a left. Their boots pounded on a metal surface. She heard the hum of electronics, a chattering of voices.

A man screamed, his vocal cords rattling as if they would rupture.

She asked who was screaming, but the cloth in her throat muffled her. She looked around. Four men dressed in black moved her with gloved hands. A black cloth covered their faces, revealing only their eyes. Fierce rifles with scopes hung over their shoulders. And, suddenly, they stopped.

Staring into the bright oval bulb over her, she dared to raise her head. A dimly lit hatch dilated in front of them, revealing a room with a metal operating chair. Thick straps covered the seat. A man in a shiny black lab coat stood near, his attention on a tablet in his hand. A small table sat at his side, containing an assortment of polished and glistening tools. One of her escorts thrust a translator into her ear.

After a moment, the lab coat man glanced up and waved the tablet. “Bring her in.”

She kicked her legs, the man on her left losing his grip and crashing into the wall.

A fierce strike to her face darkened her vision. She felt herself slipping. Closing her eyes, she fought to stay awake as the men carried her into the room. Dimly, she felt hefty restraining straps tightening over her body, pressing against her skin. Something clamped to each one of her fingertips. A searing light beamed down from the ceiling, heating the air around her.

She tried to lift her arms, then her legs, and realized the straps prevented her from moving even a little. A hand came from the darkness, gripping the cloth in her mouth and yanking it free. She convulsed, her back arching on the cold chair.

Footsteps moved away. She heard the hatch close. Other than the loud humming light and her raspy breath, she was left in silence.

When she opened her eyes, a red straw appeared from the darkness and halted an inch from her lips. She recoiled, moving her away from it.

“Drink.”

She jolted back as the voice echoed. Shaking her head, she struggled against the straps until she split the skin on her ankles.

“Do not resist,” the voice said. “I know you’re thirsty. You’ve been in your cell for three days. Much longer without water and you’ll die.” The straw moved closer to her lips. “Drink.”

She moved her lips to the straw as if it would strike out. She took a drink, unsure if she took in acid or poison.

But acid didn’t flow into her mouth. Neither did poison. A fresh stream of cold water flowed onto her dry tongue. She gulped as fast as possible.

And the straw pulled away from her lips.

“I think that’s enough for now,” the voice said with the calmness of a doctor viewing a patient. “We have work to do.”

She pursed her lips. “Let me go,” she breathed, feeling as if her vocal chords were two jagged bones rubbing together. “Please.”

“I’m afraid I cannot do that.” A pause. She heard what sounded like fingertips rapping on a tablet. “But I’m sure you knew that.”

A black strap fell across her forehead and tightened.

“This is for your own safety. Can’t have you thrashing around before we’re finished. You might end our time together too soon, yes?”

Ryker clenched her jaw. “What do you want from me?”

“We’ll get to that in due time.”

With her head clamped in place, she searched by moving only her eyes.

“Show yourself,” she said through her teeth.

“I would like to direct your attention to your fingers,” the man said as if he hadn’t heard the question.

The arms on the reclined chair moved upward with the sound of whining servos. Silver thimbles connected by curling black wires covered her fingernails.

She swallowed. “And what are those?”

“Those, my dear Star Runner, are why you’re going to answer my questions. Answer them quickly and honestly, and you will not be hurt. Try to lie and hide the operations of your feeble Legion, and you will find it to be quite…uncomfortable.”

Her mind raced as her heart thudded. She stared at her body restrained by the thick black straps. This couldn’t be happening. There had to be a way out.

Closing her eyes, she cycled through her possible responses. She recalled the altered Tridents on the Formidable’s deck, missing all identification marks. When they’d left for this mission to retrieve the Wraith, they had worn nondescript flight suits to match their unidentifiable Tridents. This man didn’t know for sure if she was a Star Runner.

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, forcing a smile. “I am—”

“Shh.” He pressed a smooth index finger across her lips, allowing it to linger. It smelled of a flowery cologne and peroxide. “There will be plenty time for our game later. For now, I simply wanted to introduce myself and let you know, Star Runner, that the truth will be imperative in your foreseeable future.”

A boot clicked on the deck as a lean man with blond hair stepped into view. His piercing blue eyes bore into her. His skin was smooth as if he had just shaved.

But he said nothing. He stared at her, taking in a long, slow breath as he maintained eye contact. She felt like an animal under observation. A chill shot through her spine.

With his eyes still locked with hers, he swayed his head. “This will be unpleasant,” he said, his mouth and jaw moving little as he spoke. “But it will inform you of the stakes of the dangerous game I’m sure you’re intent on playing with me…your lies and fictional stories of how you ended up in a Legion Trident.”

He held up his black tablet. “The pain is directed through your fingertips by this device. I would like to start with your fingernails first. It will feel like your nails are being ripped out, one by one.” He smiled, sending another shiver through her body. “But don’t worry. The pain is all in your mind.”

“I’m not—”

“I told you,” he said, lifting the tablet with his thumb hovering over it, “there will be time for talking later.”

“But—”

It was a ripping sensation first, the feeling of jagged metal pliers fastening around her fingernails and jerking back, tearing the nails from her skin. She didn’t scream. Her jaw dropped open, her eyes falling on her hand.

And then the pain thrashed through her system like a river of fuel exploding. Her body writhed, the straps splitting skin on her arms and legs. She kicked and fought against the restraints. Hot blood fell around her, running down her skin and puddling around her body.

“Now, Star Runner,” the man hissed, looming over her with a strange, amused smirk, “this was all in your head.” He leaned close enough for her to feel his hot breath on her cheek. “And since it was in your mind, I get to do it all over again.”