Tomorrow Never Knows
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Elmira sat in her quarters, scarcely aware of her surroundings. She was still
deep in thought, remembering. She had tried to force herself to remember
the good times, the childhood mischief that she and her friend had stirred
up . . . but somehow, she could not seem to pull herself away from that same
awful day. The day that the happy times had become a thing of the past.
When the young princess had appeared back in her own garden, she’d
immediately been gathered up by her mother, who was alternately scolding
and expressing her relief at finding her wayward daughter still in one piece.
Suddenly, though, she let go of the little girl in a hurry. Something was
wrong - Elmira’s eyes were glassy and she had a strange, detached look
on her face. In a whisper that sent chills up her mother’s spine, she
said, “He’s dead.”
As quickly as the metamorphosis occurred, however, Elmira was suddenly back
to normal - and the first thing she saw was her mother’s concerned face,
peering at her. “Are you all right, darling?” she asked. “What
happened?” But Elmira had simply given her a blank look - she remembered
nothing.
That was the way it had all started. Momentary lapses, instances where she
would seem to go into some kind of trance for only a few seconds. At the
beginning, she had little control over what she saw - and no specific memories
of it. She only remembered flashes - a single thought, or an image. Later,
she would be asked about her first vision many more times. But all she could
ever recall was the feeling that someone she cared about was on the verge
of experiencing some deep, heartbreaking pain - and there was nothing anyone
could do to stop it.
It wasn’t until the next day that her family discovered what had happened.
The message the sentry had carried to Mavros’s mother had held terrible
news. His father was dead - killed in the front lines of battle. This meant
big changes.
The tradition was that a son always followed in his father’s footsteps,
entering training as soon as he grew old enough. The basic training for a
warrior began when the young males were almost exactly the age that Mavros
and Elmira were at that moment; scientist’s training would not have
begun for several more years. Although the father did not do much in the
way of actual instruction, he was expected to always be present, necessary
as a model for the son to live up to. Since Mavros had not yet begun his
formal training and was still very impressionable, he needed a role model
- it was necessary that his mother be remarried.
Speedily, she was wed to a respectable figure in the military whose previous
mate was now deceased. Almost before the reality of his father’s death
had time to sink in, Mavros’s entire future was different. His new
apprenticeship: warrior-cadet. Elmira’s gentle friend, who had echoed
many times his father’s doctrine that “military work is anything
but glamorous - just a sentence to an early death,” was now a future
soldier.
Within a few weeks, he was shipped off to the military academy. The two
friends’ moments together were few and far between after that - perhaps
once in an annual cycle, they would see each other when the young males were
permitted to go home for a few brief weeks. But by that time, Elmira was
beginning to have her own problems to deal with.
When he had left to fight against the United Populated Planets, Warlord Shank
had scarcely acknowledged his single offspring - female children could not
become warriors, and his wife, who had been in poor health since Elmira’s
birth, seemed unable to produce any more. But after returning from the war
and learning of the strange visions which his daughter had begun to experience
with more and more frequency, he was fascinated. He began pushing her to
develop her talent, to train herself so that she would be able to control
her visions - and remember more of them once they subsided. Soon, his objectives
became clear. He wanted her to use her talent to assist him, predicting battle
outcomes and the like. For a time, Elmira did only a small amount of this
- her mother was most definitely opposed to the idea of her being exposed
to the horrible thing that was war. But only a few years after the war ended,
her mother died - leaving Shank free reign to do with his daughter as he
wished . . .
When Elmira was suddenly broken out of her reverie, she immediately felt
the presence in her room. She spun around - and took an involuntary step
back when she saw her father standing in the doorway. He’d startled
her . . . but that was beside the point. She knew that the only reason he
would have to talk to her was if there had been a development in Mavros’s
case - and she also had a feeling that this update would be anything but
good news.
“The autopsy unit has found something absolutely intriguing,” he
began, in a voice that suggested Elmira would find the news anything but
intriguing. “Human DNA. Human fingerprints.” He paused for a moment,
letting his words sink in. “Evidence that Mavros was placed in the shuttle
by humans.” Suddenly, a horrible smile appeared on his face. “They
have also determined that the shuttle he was placed in originated from a
Lumanian vessel.”
At those words, Elmira froze. His implication was clear . . . but unbelievable.
The Christa? Her crew couldn’t possibly be involved in this - there
must be some mistake! Wordlessly, she shook her head - but Shank simply continued
speaking.
“At Warlord Shank’s request, the chief scientist ran the fingerprints
through our criminal database. There was a match.” Once again, he paused
for effect. “Seth Goddard. The commander of that group of infernal alien
children.
“As we speak, every available warrior is preparing to leave the base,
to initiate a search of all populated areas within range. An order has gone
to all Spung territories to watch for this crew. They will be apprehended
- and then they will be brought to one of our smaller bases for
questioning.”
Elmira almost didn’t hear him any longer. It couldn’t be true -
the crew of the Christa couldn’t have done something so awful . . .
could they?
“If I didn’t know better, I would say that Varrick had something
seriously wrong with his head,” Sanival muttered. “After the way
you almost overlooked the - the shuttle . . . after you almost let the entire
thing go unnoticed . . . he includes you as part of the team to check this
sector of space for the murderer?”
“Be quiet,” Nivek snarled back. “You know as well as I do
what Warlord Shank’s orders were. Any warrior or warrior-cadet who’s
not immediately stationed at a crucial post was sent out to search for this
Goddard and his crew - ”
“ - no matter how incompetent the warrior-cadet might be,” Sanival
added smugly.
“Gentlemen!” The voice of their commanding officer immediately
broke up the two cadets’ argument. “We were not sent here for the
purpose of getting into childish quarrels. We are on this station in an attempt
to fulfill the warlord’s order - to bring him the murderer and any possible
accomplices. That is all we are going to do here.”
As the group approached the landing bay security station which they had to
pass through before gaining entrance to the main base, Nivek winced. These
guys run a pretty tight station, he thought nervously. What happens
if they don’t let us in? What if there’s something wrong with our
written orders?
The young Spung’s fears quickly proved to be groundless. After scanning
the official-looking orders, the guard at the security station nodded briskly.
“Please notify one of our people if you find any of the offenders,”
he said flatly. “A Rekater official must assist with any arrests made
on our station.” With that, he hit the button which opened the base’s
main gate. “You may enter.”
And with that, the Spung search party stepped onto the Rekater station .
Harlan Band walked down the corridor of the Christa towards his bunkroom,
muttering to himself. Five minutes late, he thought angrily. Five
minutes late for dinner, and Miss Davenport completely overreacts. Now
it seemed that he and his co-offenders, the other male crewmates, wouldn’t
be allowed to go off on their own for the rest of the shore leave. I hope
the commander manages to talk some sense into her . . . But judging from
the expression he’d seen on Goddard’s face, Harlan wondered if
they would get any support from him, either. Why does everyone take themselves
so seriously around here? Nothing’s going to happen to us!
His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Rosie, coming over the public-address
system from her position as monitor down in the command post. “Could
everyone come down here for a minute?” she said. “It’s - kind
of urgent.”
Barely giving it a second thought, Harlan hopped into the nearest jumptube.
Almost as soon as the tube took him, though, he realized that Rosie’s
message had sounded a bit . . . off. There had been no panic in her voice
- nothing that would cause the immediate realization that something was wrong.
Still, she’d sounded . . . well . . . urgent. More imperative than Rosie
usually was. Something’s up, Harlan said to himself.
He was almost instantly proven correct. The tubes deposited him in the command
post . . . and he saw his crewmates being lined up against the wall by several
menacing-looking Spung warriors, while another one held a laser pistol to
Rosie’s head. One Rekater official stood against the far wall of the
room, watching the goings-on with rather detached interest.
“We’re ssssso glad you could join us, human,” one of the warriors
said in a falsely polite voice. “I would suggest you join the others
on the far wall . . . if you don’t want to risk injuring your female.”
Harlan speculated about his options for only a moment - quickly, though,
he realized that it wouldn’t do any good to fight. Not yet, anyway
. . . not until we find out what they want.
Almost as if he had read his mind, the head Spung stepped forward. “We
are here for Ssseth Goddard,” he said authoritatively.
What? As one, the crew of the Christa turned to look at their commander.
There had to be a mistake. Commander Goddard couldn’t be in some kind
of trouble with the Spung . . . could he?
Goddard’s mind was already whirling, trying to weigh the odds. Six Spung
warriors - all armed with fearsome-looking weapons. All ready to shoot at
the slightest provocation. It would be suicide to fight back, he realized
as his heart sunk into his stomach. He knew all too well that any defensive
move he made would only put his crew - particularly Rosie - in danger as
well. Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward - only to realize that Harlan
was right beside him.
“Keep back,” he said quietly. “It’s me they want - not
you.”
“No way,” the young man replied. “We’re not letting them
take you without an explanation.”
“Get back, Mr. Band,” Goddard repeated firmly. “That’s
an order.”
With an expression of mingled fear, admiration and reluctance, Harlan moved
to step back from the conflict - but was cut off by one of the Spung guards.
“Not so fast!”
The guard grabbed Harlan by the arm, pulling him forward. “Our orders
were to take Seth Goddard . . . and any other crew members who might have
acted as possible accomplices.”
“Accomplices in what crime?” Harlan burst out. “What are you
accusing us of?” His query was ignored. The Spung merely took a step
toward the remaining crew members, scrutinizing each of them.
“This ‘crew’ appears to be composed mainly of females,”
the head warrior said disdainfully. Harlan breathed a silent sigh of relief.
He’d forgotten about the Spung’s attitude towards females - maybe
most of the others would be left alone. “And this one is merely a
child.” He barely allotted Bova a cursory glance. But when he reached
Radu, last in the lineup, he came to a dead stop.
Motioning for the others to join him, he stepped away from the lineup.
“What’s your opinion?” he asked, not even bothering to lower
his voice. “Is the pasty-face worth taking?”
“Well . . . ” One of the other warriors paused for a moment,
considering. “If things were still the way they were ten years ago,
I would say no. They aren’t intelligent enough to be much of a threat
on their own. But after all this time, the United Populated Planets must
have trained them to follow orders . . . who knows, it may even be able to
pilot their craft!” He laughed disdainfully - but suddenly grew serious
again. “I believe we should take him.”
As the leader stepped back over to Radu, Harlan shot a glance at his friend,
expecting to see outrage on his face - but at the look of absolute terror
in the young Andromedan’s eyes, he quickly realized that Radu had heard
only two words. Take him.
The Spung threw their captives into the holding bay of their small vessel
as casually as one might toss a used Kleenex into the waste basket, slamming
the door behind them. Once the warriors were gone, there was silence in the
room for a moment as each crew member sat alone with his thoughts.
Radu was in complete inner turmoil, barely aware of the others who sat within
a few feet of him. Back in the command post, when the Spung had announced
why they were there, the young Andromedan had realized immediately that Harlan
would not let them take the commander uneventfully. With his people’s
belief that “loyalty is an Andromedan’s greatest strength”
ringing in his ears, Radu had been ready and willing to follow the others
in giving themselves up - even though the very thought of turning himself
in to the Spung made his blood run cold.
After Commander Goddard had ordered Harlan to step back, though, Radu had
hesitated. Both his childhood training and the cadet training he’d received
at Starcademy had taught that when a superior gave an order, it was to be
obeyed - without question. He’d hesitated for only a moment - and by
then, the Spung had begun to scrutinize the crew for likely accomplices.
When they had hesitated about whether or not to take him, his only reaction
had been to try and ignore the way they were speaking about his people. Although
he would never have admitted it to the others, he hadn’t really expected
that the Spung would be interested in him - he’d always been taught
that they looked at his people as little more than dumb muscle, barely capable
of doing a simple task without instruction and therefore not dangerous on
their own. When they’d decided that he was to be taken - the only words
he’d really taken in out of the discussion - he had frozen in fear.
Every fiber of his brain had screamed What?! There must be some mistake!
He was so terrified that he had barely resisted as he was bound and thrown
into the holding bay along with the others.
Suddenly, abruptly, his gaze fell on Harlan, who was trying desperately to
keep up his usual expression of casual confidence - and failing entirely.
I wonder if he’s as scared as I am?
Unlike his crewmate, Harlan had faced only the most momentary hesitation
before making his decision to stand by the commander’s side. As he’d
watched the events unfolding before him, something that Catalina had once
said suddenly came back to him: “You talk about being a STARDOG,
like your father. Do you have the guts to act like one?” Almost
immediately, Harlan had known what the right thing to do was . . . but now,
he was starting to wish that he had been less brave and maybe a little more
sensible. The tales of the Spung that he’d heard over the years from
his friends - some of whom had relatives who’d been through Spung
interrogation - were enough to make his heart stop. But oddly enough, Harlan
almost felt better knowing that whatever happened, he would be going through
it with the others. He knew in the back of his mind that it would have been
worse to have stayed on the station, picturing the worst . . . and wondering.
Meanwhile, Goddard was still trying to sort out what had happened. How had
the Spung been able to board their ship? The only way they could have gotten
through was with the permission of the Rekater. There’d even been a
Rekater official there during the arrest - which meant that the Spung must
have had legitimate arrest papers. But for what crime? he wondered.
He had been racking his brain and coming up blank . . . he couldn’t
think of a single incident which could be proven to be their fault. Of
course, with Warlord Shank in the mix, it may not be an actual accusation
. . . He could easily have cooked up some imaginary crime for us to
commit.
While he was contemplating this, however, another part of his mind was already
racing ahead, trying to decide on the best plan to follow once they got to
the Spung base. He already knew what was in store for them - no matter what
the accusation proved to be, they would be put through interrogation. He’d
been questioned by the Spung before . . . the procedure they followed was
completely standardized. Each suspect was taken into a soundproofed room
and asked to give his version of events. Afterwards, the stories would be
reviewed for continuity. If they checked out and you told the Spung what
they wanted to hear, they would probably let you live. If not . . . well,
he would rather not think about that.
Suddenly, he noticed Radu and Harlan, both trying desperately to think about
anything but the unknown fate that was awaiting them. If you don’t
say something to raise their morale, he said to himself, they won’t
have a chance. “All right, gentlemen,” he said in a voice that
he hoped sounded more optimistic and confident than he felt, “let’s
get started on our plan of attack.”
As soon as he spoke, he saw his two crewmen begin to loosen up, relieved
that someone was finally acting normally. “W-what should we expect once
we get there?” Harlan stammered.
“Well - ” He was mentally trying to strike a balance between revealing
necessary information . . . and giving his crew too much to think about.
He didn’t want to frighten anyone. “When we first get to the base,
we’ll be taken in for separate interrogations. They’ll want to
get our story right away.”
“But we don’t even know what we’re being accused of,”
Harlan interrupted. “How are we supposed to come up with a story on
the spot like that?”
You shouldn’t have any problems doing that, Mr. Band, Goddard
thought. “You - you almost need to anticipate what they’re going
to be looking for,” he said slowly. “We may have been pulled in
on an actual charge - ” although I can’t imagine what . . .
“but it’s just as likely that - someone - simply trumped up a story
against us. We want to prove that we couldn’t possibly be guilty . .
. just try to be quick on your feet. Try and tell them what they want to
hear.”
With those words, Radu realized that he was in serious trouble if he ended
up being taken in for interrogation. He knew that Harlan would be all right
- his friend could talk his way out of any situation. But the young Andromedan
shuddered to think of himself being questioned by a Spung interrogator .
. . he tripped over his tongue when he was asked an unexpected question in
class. Suddenly, however, he realized that interrogation was one of the few
things that he didn’t have to worry about. As Warlord Shank had once
said: “Spung do not question Andromedans.”
They aren’t interested in what I have to say, he thought.
They’ll hold me as a possible accomplice in whatever crime the others
are accused of, but they don’t think I’m intelligent enough to
give them any proper testimony.
Suddenly, the door of their prison was thrown open, and the leader of their
captors stood in the doorway. “Welcome to your temporary home,”
he said with a predatory smile. “We hope you enjoy your stay.”
Turning to a trembling young underling standing behind him, he continued.
“Have the two humans taken up to the interrogation rooms immediately.
The Andromedan is coming to the prison bay with me.” Noticing the look
of fear in Radu’s eyes, he continued in a voice which suggested he was
speaking to some creature that barely understood him. “Don’t
worry,” he said condescendingly. “Your masters will join you
soon.”
Click here for Part 3 of Tomorrow Never Knows