Leaving Paradise, page 8
‘The black screen in front of you when it opens will show me. Will you feel threatened?’
‘No, I'd rather see who I was talking to. Where are my clothes?’
‘It was of a material we had not seen before, it could benefit us greatly.’
‘You took my clothes while I was drugged?’
The man ignored the question and said, ‘don't you realise the advances in technology you could bring to our world. It's our duty to try to improve the lives of our people. Surely you do not object to that?’
‘I haven't yet decided if I should divulge any of my knowledge to you. This is a question which requires a great deal of thought.’
‘We can wait as long as is necessary.’
‘What happened to me while you filled me with your drugs?’
‘The risk of infection from you was tremendous and could have had devastating consequences. We needed to examine you.’
‘Do you think I would have risked harming life on this world?’
‘We could not take the chance. You appear to be safe.’
Zenan examined the man. He was somewhat older than him and wore a grey coat over his clothing. His hair was grey, his skin colour pale, he had a wide nose and blue eyes.
‘Tell me, Mr. Zenan, what are your rules for being here?’
‘To explore?’ replied Zenan, feeling confused.
‘I mean, what are you doing here? In whose authority do you act? What are you allowed to do here?’
‘This is an exploratory mission. Mapping out the planets of the nearby stars to our world; I act with the full backing of the people of my world. I’m allowed to explore and make contact.’
‘Do you represent a single nation or tribe of your planet, or an amalgamation of, areas, nations and governments?’
‘I represent no nation or tribe of my world, for there are none. I am free to act in any way I see as legitimate.’
The man looked grim, as he slowly said, ‘what? No governments? No division of lands?’
‘Your world is organised in a different way to mine.’
‘You have every reason to lie to us Mr. Zenan; how many of your creatures are on our world now?’
This was going to be a long and painful conversation he thought. He replied, ‘there is only me and my ship on this world, my fellow explorers are near other stars.’
‘You expect me to believe that you travelled here, all alone, innocently to explore and make contact, yet you hid yourself away from us so well. Now at last we know you are here!’
‘I travelled here alone. I was not hiding in a suspicious way; I was concerned what might happen to me as an alien.’
‘You should be grateful to me. That device you have in your arm, there was a strong case for surgically removing it. I persuaded them it would be unwise at present. I hope you will not disappoint me. Some even suggested surgically removing your entire arm. Just remember who saved you.’
He believed him. Whatever their sense of morality was to them, it seemed barbaric. The Doctor assured him that Kesh had been released after being checked for infection. He was not impressed that he had ‘tricked’ an innocent young girl to go with him.
The Doctor interrupted his stream of thought, ‘as we have not removed the weapon in your arm I want your promise that you will not attempt to harm anyone else with it. We don't want to have to sedate you every time we come into your room, as though you were some kind of savage animal!’ he laughed.
‘Yes, if I am not attacked,’ replied Zenan, ‘I didn't come here with the intention of hurting living creatures.’
The Doctor smiled and let out a contented sigh. ‘No one will attack you here. This is Semel, not Kark or Tenual.’
Zenan was pleased at the Doctor's naivety. He would have to bide his time and wait for the right moment to escape.
‘I'm hungry,’ said Zenan, ‘I would like something to eat.’
‘Yes, that can be arranged,’ replied Jozher.
He was so used to having food or pills whenever he wanted he could not imagine what it would feel like to be hungry and to wait.
‘Do you have any preferences in what you eat? We've never catered for an alien before,’ the Doctor laughed.
‘Only food derived from plants.’
‘We can cater for those tastes. I only hope our food doesn't make you ill.’
The Doctor spoke to a man beside him that he could not see. Then he looked at Zenan and said, ‘we will offer you a variety of foods, so you can say what you would prefer.’ He smiled.
‘When I was captured I had a bag which contained a device that tests food and warns me of danger. Can I have it?’
‘We don’t have that here.’
Zenan decided not to show how important the devices were. Apart from feeling hungry his strength returned. Not up to home standards but the seat was better than a cold floor or damp ground. He didn't know if Kesh was alive or free to talk. Would anyone believe her, even if she managed to get the information to many others? Would she be too afraid and not tell anyone? Without the comm unit he had no way of contacting Idhouri. He wondered if Kesh might get help, but could not rely on her.
The food came through a small hidden hatch on the wall. Each dish was labelled, and they asked him to rate it. There were cards provided with the words written on ‘nice’ and ‘nasty’.
There was a toilet behind a panel in the wall behind him, which was pointed out by a voice in the room. He realised someone must be listening to him, and perhaps even watching. A friendly, curious visit was intended. Instead he was seen as a threatening, secretive enemy. Threatening them was not sensible; it was likely to confirm their attitudes. He was a visitor from another world, perhaps the first they knew of. Their suspicion and fear was understandable. Once they understood he had journeyed there innocently and posed no threat they would let him go free. He hoped that might take another day at most. He would have to remain patient, calm, and be as honest as possible. The fewer lies he told the safer he should be. They were shocked and frightened; he would encourage them to see him as benign.
10. The Prisoner
He was questioned over several days, the rest of the time he remained alone. He tried to be patient and thoughtful in his answers but grew frustrated. He was moved to a new room which looked like Kesh's home but a false version.
There were benefits; the room was coloured in paintings of a landscape, had a larger bed, as well as a bigger couch, and the lights were dimmer. There were washing facilities in a separate small room, and he felt less as though he were on display. There was even one of their music players. Lying on the couch were his clothes. He eagerly touched them, feeling their warmth and softness. He casually touched the pockets hoping the comm device might be there but to his disappointment they were not so naive, and it was gone along with his bag and other tools. He quickly changed into his own garments.
Jozher appeared later and said, ‘your clothes are unusual. We cut them to sample the material. The sample disappeared over night. When we went to cut more material off we found it resistant to our tools. Yet if we attempted to stab it then it cut easy. It is not good defensive material and we can’t copy it.’
‘It’s not meant to be resistant to stabbing, but it is alive which is why it joined together by itself.’
‘Alive?’
‘Yes, it’s alive, it can’t talk, but it is smart and reactive. It listens to me.’
Jozher looked horrified and disappeared. The screen closed.
Zenan’s loss of the comm device and analyser meant he was alone and disorientated. He thought he might be underground and even if he could contact Idhouri there was no way for it to reach him. He thought there must be some link between his people and the locals. Somehow, unknown to both of their peoples there had been contact in their distant past. Jozher insisted on believing he was a spy, one of many on the world hidden among them. Jozher offered no explanation for why humans existed on two separate worlds.
The room wore him down with its compactness. Did they think he was too stupid to understand their tactics? Their control of the lighting and their attempts to manipulate his life; in his mind he was free to think of all the happy times in his past and all he would experience again when he returned.
Hoping for something to take his mind off the present situation after several attempts he managed to get music to play. The songs were culture-specific and virtually devoid of meaning, except for when they expressed love and loss. He let them play in the background while he thought how to escape. If only he had told Idhouri to find him if he did not make contact for three days! Perhaps it could have used its shield to force its way into where he was? He hoped there was a solution they could agree upon. While he kept his shield, there was always a chance. He remembered Yudia warning him not to be impetuous and he had not heeded her advice. He should have been more cautious.
He desperately wanted to go home and be among friends and civilisation. He felt foolish at his naiveté - running so excitedly away and imaging it would be so easy to get back to. Leaving his comm on silent. They were serious mistakes to have made. He was used to being with someone, hearing their opinions, enjoying their friendliness, and sharing their laughter. Here, when Jozher spoke there were only conflicting opinions and often mutual incomprehension. He hoped for an agreement to allow him to leave over the next four or five days.
He expressed a desire to exercise. They refused to allow him to leave his rooms, unless he helped them. While he was handcuffed, they installed a system of pulleys for strength and told him to run while standing. It was not what he had in mind. Part of the pleasure of running was to see the world go by, and the people. Here, to run on the same spot and never see anyone new, staring at the same four walls seemed cruel. Nevertheless, he enjoyed keeping fit. He didn't want to end up just sitting down all day. He paced up and down, mulling over his situation, his conclusions unchanged; he would find a way to escape. Jozher was intensely interested in his world but each time he described how they lived he saw disbelief and even revulsion on his questioner’s face. What they insisted on having was access to his craft. Gone were the accusations of spying on their world.
‘When can I leave here?’ he asked.
‘When we know that you can be trusted and that you pose no threat to our world.’
That sounded ominous. Hadn’t he proved that all ready with his patience and lack of any threats?
Careful questioning got Jozher to admit they wanted access to the ship. They were unable to get past Idhouri’s shield and were curious about seeing inside. The way they kept his comm unit, analyser and pills told him they were keen to acquire technology if they could. They were fearful of him returning home and yet if he allowed them access to the ship they might try to destroy it. If he were able to get to Idhouri alone he would get on-board and be safe. But to risk travelling there with many guards watching, he could not see how he could get on-board and escape.
Jozher came to the screen. There had been many more days of talking between them with no agreement found. He placed his hands behind his back and walked away, pacing backwards and forwards. He breathed deeply and spoke in a quiet, calm voice, and said, ‘I know you are an intelligent being, with a technology superior to our own, but you are alone here, and time is short. This lack of co-operation cannot continue indefinitely. You must give us something in return for us letting you go. If you won't help us, I cannot be held responsible for what may happen.’
Zenan replied, ‘Dr. Jozher, it seems we are as far apart as when you first captured and imprisoned me here. My lack of co-operation will not change; why must I give you something for you to allow me to leave? Through a series of acts and decisions, I came to be in this prison, through force. How can you tell me, you will not be held responsible for what happens to me?’
The days melted into one. An impasse had been reached.
Jozher stood close to the screen. His grey hair shone in the artificial light and his dark coat displayed his name and rank as if it were something worthy.
‘If you don't co-operate more fully with us, I'll be replaced and there's nothing I can do to help you then. You may not like me but don't think you'll like who replaces me, don't think they'll be easier to get on with, you'll realise that I wasn't so bad after all. I’ll be back tomorrow, and you will have your final chance to help.’ He turned and walked out of the view of the screen.
Zenan wasn't sure if this was a bluff. He didn't like Jozher but maybe the person who replaced him would be worse? It would make no difference. There was no way he would hand over any knowledge to such a group of people - it was unthinkable. They demanded access to the inside of his craft. He knew they couldn’t replicate his comm unit, analyser and the pills but it was annoying and bad enough that they had such technology in their grasp. To allow them to possibly capture or harm the ship was not something he was going to permit. Idhouri had no offensive weapon to defend itself and it was technology that might change the world forever too quickly and in ways he’d never intended. It would only open its door for him and if they were to get inside the shield he did not know what harm they might do. Idhouri was alive and sentient, and he did not know what method of attack they might have in mind. City AIs back home near ran the populated world; it was inconceivable to imagine harming them. If they managed to kill Idhouri it would not only strand him it would be an infamous murder. He could never allow that to happen.
He exercised, showered, ate and lay back and thought. It was the only way to forget his situation. Since rational discussion achieved nothing to his advantage, it appeared violence was his only option. He regretted the situation. Yet as decisive as he felt and as willing as he was he did not know where he was being kept. He was unsure how long the shield would last. Forcing his way past many guards and blindly trying to locate Idhouri was too dangerous to contemplate unless there was no other choice.
11. A Terrible Crime
The days passed, and his sense of isolation grew. He couldn't imagine how people coped with the prospect of never leaving a prison. Perhaps prisoners believed the next day or fifty days, or year would be the last. He had been enclosed within two rooms for at least thirty days, in addition to the time spent unconscious under their crude drugs. Jozher appeared relentless in his drive to extract the information. The traveller was still firm that his culture's technology would not be stolen. He wondered if Jozher was so upset because he was going to be taken away from interrogating him. Perhaps he was going to be punished for failing to obtain his cooperation?
Jozher appeared looking upset and announced he was going to be replaced, by someone who 'would get results', and he added, ‘not everyone is as pleasant as me.’
Zenan had heard such threats many times now. He sat and wondered what to do. He was surprised to see someone come in to his rooms. The man wore different clothes to Jozher, but he wasn't sure of their significance. He was clad in black from his head to feet with only his face and hands uncovered. There was a strange circular symbol on his top which he had not seen before. The man stared, and said, ‘I am Vigilator Fexal. I trust we will get along. I hope our conversation will be more fruitful than the ones you had with Dr. Jozher.’
Zenan sat impassively. The man was pale skinned, had blue eyes, a powerful nose and spoke in a forceful manner.
Fexal continued, ‘I am a soldier. I have been for all my adult life. I'm proud of that. Stand up. I defend our mighty state against all foes.’
He ignored the man’s demand.
The Vigilator shouted, ‘did you hear me? I told you to stand up now! You must give us access to the ship you came in!’
‘Shouting won’t get me to do what you want. You have got a lot to learn,’ Zenan responded.
The Vigilator continued to shout. ‘You know, you almost look normal... for a freak. But you lack discipline. I said stand up!’
Zenan was used to threats by now.
‘No one ignores me,’ the Vigilator yelled. He grabbed hold of Zenan’s clothes and pulled him up until he stared eye to eye. ‘You will get some pleasure soon. I hope you'll find it agreeable.’ He spoke more calmly now. ‘But pleasure is meaningless without feeling pain to appreciate the difference.’
The Vigilator moved his hands to the top of Zenan’s shoulders and raised his knee swiftly up into his opponent’s genitals while pulling him forward. Zenan fell to the floor, in agonising, unbelievable pain. He felt vomit rise in his throat. Tears came. He gritted his teeth and held his private parts. His body began to sooth the pain but not quickly enough!
The Vigilator stood over the alien. He said softly. ‘Do you feel pain? Next time I come in, when I say, 'stand up', you do it or do you want another kick?’ Zenan groaned and looked up at the man's boot above his head. He was kicked hard in his solar plexus.
As the man went to kick him in his face Zenan imagined the strongest power. He raised his right hand upwards towards his assailant.
‘You've had enough, have you?’ The Vigilator grinned.
The minute weapon shot upwards through the man’s stomach, pulverising several of his vital organs, including his lungs and sprayed thick blood and unrecognisable parts of his anatomy across the wall behind. He fell backwards, lifeless.
Zenan stood and was amazed and appalled at the power of the weapon on the setting. He tasted the spray of the man's various splattered internal organs and blood in his mouth, and felt it run down his face. He spat it out. Perhaps this would be his only hope of escaping. He wiped the blood from his face. Setting the power of his shield to medium he pushed the door. It was unlocked. Outside stood two men wearing similar uniforms to the man he had killed. They raised weapons and without hesitation he flung them backwards. He heard distant voices and footsteps. He reached a corridor and was surprised to see many men with weapons coming towards him. He was scared and knew he could not fight so many. This was not the way to escape. To hurt so many people was not his way. He ran back into the room, closed the door, and tried not to look at the body.
