Tigra Page 3

  They were forced to stand in the frigid cold for some time before transports finally arrived to take them to the prison camps. Some were taken to the nearby train stations to be shipped to distant colonies. Most would be used as slave labor in the many smelters and factories that dotted the planet. Mizar 3 was a lifeless rock, but it had a wealth of ore and mineral deposits the Coalition was exploiting to fuel its war machine.

  The prisoners were segregated by sex, the captured women taken by open truck to the penal colony nearest the starport. The prison—or “camp,” as the guards referred to it—was a collection of thick gray syncrete structures behind razor wire and plasma-field fences. They were divided into small groups and herded into the bunkers. Jeena was placed in a cell with six other female prisoners.

  She was not there for long—the guards came for her within the hour for her “interrogation.” For four days they questioned her, keeping her alone in a small, isolated cell they called the green room. By whatever euphemism they chose to call it, its purpose was clear—it was their torture chamber.

  Interrogation methods had changed little over the centuries; they were not meant to retrieve information so much as to instill fear and intimidation. Jeena knew little that could be of use to the Coalition, something her captors were well aware of; but as a SAG officer she was a special prize, and they took to their work with unbridled enthusiasm.

  She was stripped naked and searched thoroughly then forced to stand at attention during the long hours of tedious questioning. Weak from hunger and exhaustion, she inevitably collapsed, only to be dragged back to her feet. This was repeated again and again, until she could no longer support her own weight, even for few moments.

  A chain descended from the ceiling, and her wrists were lashed together. She was hoisted up and suspended from the ceiling with her toes just touching the floor. The questioning began again, this time accompanied by blows to her back with a thin, flexible rod. The process continued day and night.

  By the fourth day she was in a state of more or less steady unconsciousness, and her tormentors had determined they could get no more from her. Satisfied with their work, they dragged her back to her cell and threw her in with the other women.

  She was the highest-ranking officer in the cell; and although the others tried to comfort her and dress her wounds, it was obvious they were looking to her for leadership. It was not a role Jeena was up to. She was in great pain, and only wanted to crawl into a corner and leave the decisions to someone else.

  But there was no one else, so as the days passed she tried to calm and encourage the others as best she could, speaking more bravely and hopefully than she felt. They were left unmolested for a week.

  Then, four guards entered the cell carrying small, dirty bedrolls, the guard-sergeant trailing them. They threw them onto the muddy floor, opening one and placing it in the center of the cell. There was no introduction, no warning. They grabbed the nearest woman, the most junior and youngest among them, and pulled her toward them. She was ordered to strip.

  The frightened girl refused, instinctively wrapping her arms around herself. The sergeant held his rifle on the rest, smiling as the other men began tearing the uniform off the screaming and terrified girl. Although she knew it was futile, Jeena lunged at one of them.

  When she came to she was on the mattress, bound hand and foot, and was being raped. The other women trembled and huddled in the corner, refusing to witness her debasement—all but the young girl. She was nowhere in sight.

  When they finished with Jeena they left, but they also left her flight suit.

  That night they could hear the pitiful cries of the girl. She had been chained naked outside in the bitter cold. Even in the cells the temperature dropped with the sun and those remaining had to huddle together for warmth. There was no warmth for the girl. It took three days for her to die of exposure. The fate was the same for any who resisted too much.

  As the weeks and months went by those who remained were given better food and a small heater, but many still became ill. Eventually, the guards would come and take the sick woman away. Whether they were taken to work in the smelters or simply killed, Jeena never knew.

  Finally, there was only her.

  The soft, haunting sounds of “Venus” floated through the ship. Jeena wiped away a final tear that had run down her cheek. Sighing, she pushed the memories back and sank into a dark and fitful sleep.

  Chapter 3

  Tigra n. (The name is an apparent derivation of the species’ zoological classification, Tigerius rabidus araratus, or as it was usually abbreviated in scientific papers, tig. ra.

  Encyclopedic History of the Union, 22nd ed

  The alarm buzzer sounded, startling Jeena awake. The phantom laughing faces dissolved into the shadows of the dayroom.

  "It is 0600 Greenwich Mean Time, Captain,” Vicki reported.

  "Yes, all right. Thank you, Vicki,” Jeena croaked. She sat up in the bunk and ran her hand through her hair, wincing. Her arms were stiff and sore, the left bicep swollen and almost black. The pain in her ribs was back again, and her eyes felt dry and swollen.

  She limped to the head and sat on the latrine, catching sight of her reflection in the shiny metal wall. It was a face only vaguely familiar to her. The thick dark hair, full sensuous mouth and slightly olive complexion were only hinted at in the thin, emaciated image that stared back at her. Not even her eyes were the eyes she remembered—they were dull and lifeless. Not surprising, considering I have come from the planet of the dead, she thought. Turning away from the reflection, she finished her toilet and went back to the dayroom.

  Once the ship had safely made the jump into hyperspace, she had torn off her soiled and bloody flight suit and thrown it on the floor. It lay there still, a small red puddle beneath it. She would not put the filthy thing back on now.

  Searching through the pilot's private locker, she found some over-large T-shirts, the collars stenciled with Capt. J.C. McCullough. Throwing on one of these and her prison sandals, she went back to the cockpit.

  The sensors still showed no activity. Good. Maybe they think the ship was destroyed in the raid. Even if they suspected she had managed to escape, there was little chance of them looking for her in this isolated sector—thanks to the CCOMS modifications of Capt. J.C. McCullough.

  Tripping over a mess pack, she rummaged through it and found a food cylinder. After checking its label she tore off the lid, setting off a chemical reaction that soon had the contents steaming. Armed with the hot coffee, she sat back in the conn chair and had Vicki give her a short tutorial on the planet on which she was stranded.

  Ararat was the second of four planets orbiting Arcturus, a Sol-standard star in the Aleph-prime sector—a sector, Jeena noted grimly, that had recently fallen under Coalition control. Of the remaining planets, the first was a barren moon-sized world in a close solar orbit and the last two were gas giants. The third planet, Leviathan, was enormous, even by the standards of these huge worlds—the largest planetary body ever discovered. In times of conjunction these behemoths were capable of playing havoc with Ararat's geo-activity but luckily this occurred only every few millennia.

  Discovered slightly more than two hundred and fifty years earlier, at the beginning of an era in human exploration known as the Second Migration, Ararat was a beautiful if somewhat isolated world. Four-fifths the size of Earth, it had a single continental land mass and several oceanic islands. It hosted a breathable atmosphere and a variety of plant and animal life.

  The official Five-Year Survey was completed in 2351, with no sign of either harmful microorganisms or sentient life; and the world was sanctioned for colonization by CAIO, the Council for Alien Immigration and Occupation, four years later. It was given a zed-tech designation.

  Jeena interrupted the tutorial.

  "Zed-tech? I thought you said this world had abundant energy stores?"

  "That is affirmative."

  She frowned. A zed-tech designation quarantine
d a planet from all advanced technology, allowing only agrarian colonies. The Union seldom used it, except in cases where the planet was deemed too poor in resources to support large populations or industry. Ararat certainly didn't appear to qualify.

  "Your information must be incorrect."

  There was only a slight pause.

  "The designation does not correspond to usual Union standards; however, there may have been extenuating circumstances."

  "I'm listening."

  "I have several reports catalogued during this time period of a schism within CAIO concerning Ararat's eventual designation. There were rumors of external pressure brought on individual members of the CAIO directorate. Accusations of blackmail were apparently voiced. It is possible CAIO was compromised concerning Ararat."

  "Compromised? By whom, and for what reason?"

  "I do not have enough information to formulate an answer."

  Jeena considered the possibility. CAIO directors were elected for life in an effort to immunize them from just this sort of political pressure. They were more powerful in many ways than even the members of the Supreme Union Court, with whom they shared the benefits of lifetime commissions. It was hard to imagine what pressure could be brought to bear on any seated director, let alone a majority, that could influence a vote on tech designation. And why Ararat?

  Still, there was no denying the oddity of it. A world with geo as well as chemical energy stores left to a bunch of farmers? Of course, this Vicki was Coalition-programmed so this could all be nothing more than propaganda.

  Jeena gave a mental shrug. However it came about, it would be an unlooked-for blessing. A zed world would hold little interest for the technology-obsessed Coalition, and its isolation would make it impractical even as a military outpost.

  "You mentioned energy stores. What about mineral deposits?” She wanted to make sure there was nothing of value to lure the Coalition.

  "Information concerning Ararat's internal makeup is incomplete."

  "Why?"

  "Ararat's magnetic field prevented detailed analysis at the time of the Five-Year Survey."

  "Explain."

  "Ararat's magnetic field is highly unstable and in a constant flux state, which interferes with long distance metallurgic detection. The technology did not exist at the time of the Five-Year Survey to overcome this interference."

  "All right. What about people? Is the planet colonized?"

  Two colonies had been given charter before the outbreak of the Galactic Civil War, both of which were followers of primitivism—odd back-to-nature movements that occasionally swept through mankind. There had been little contact with the Union by either even before the war; the colonists paid their taxes as required and on time, and for that they were pretty much left alone. Since the war began there had been no contact at all.

  Vicki projected a map of the last known population centers for both colonies, but as these were almost a century old, they were probably useless. Most agrarian societies lasted no more than a few generations even with continued support from the Union—the dream of a simpler life that drove the colonists to the edges of civilization was seldom passed on to their children. With no contact in more than ninety years, it was doubtful either colony had survived.

  Vicki began an overview of their societies, but Jeena cut her off and fast-forwarded to flora and fauna.

  Animal life was abundant on Ararat and included several large carnivores, the most fearsome of which was reported to be the large cat-like animals the locals referred to as tigras. The holo-image Vicki projected showed a large cat much like an earth tiger but without the stripes. It had a beautiful golden-yellow coat, its eyes as golden as its fur. Interestingly, its fangs were retractable and projected only during times of stress or when it was bringing down prey. It was a truly gorgeous animal, and apparently quite dangerous, although one of the colonies had reported the species was nearing extinction.

  Intrigued, she had Vicki run a short video on the animal. As the clip began, the tigra was circling a large bear-like animal the computer identified as an usk. It seemed to Jeena the cat had picked the wrong fight—the usk was huge, towering over its smaller antagonist and possessing claws she conservatively estimated at nine inches.

  She watched as the tigra crept closer, trying to get inside, only to be driven back by the bigger animal's greater reach. After several unsuccessful attempts, the tigra reared up on its hind legs. Where this would have proved unsteady and awkward for an Earth cat, the tigra looked strangely stable in this position.

  Then it faltered. The usk, sensing the feline's mistake, drove in for the kill. At that instant, the tigra sprang, sweeping its right foreleg to the left, straight at the big animal's neck. Five razor-sharp claws found their mark, tearing into the usk's throat. Blood flew. The holo ended with the great ursine crashing to the ground.

  Jeena watched the clip again—there had been something not quite right about the tigra's actions. As the scene neared the attack, she had Vicki slow the speed two-thirds.

  The cat was in its strange upright position. The usk's right arm muscles tensed to strike. The tigra swayed to the right.

  There!

  She backed it up a little and played it again, watching intently. She was an elite combat soldier, academy-trained and an expert in hand-to-hand combat. There had been no mistake. The tigra hadn't faltered. It had deliberately feinted to one side to pull the usk's blow wide, opening it up. The cat had set all its weight on its left hind leg. As soon as it had created the opening, it leapt straight at the throat.

  She let the clip run out. No wonder the colonists feared this animal—it fought with the guile of a man and the speed of a coiled snake. She'd remember to give it a wide berth if she ever had the misfortune of meeting one.

  Vicki continued her discussion of Ararat's animal life, but Jeena stopped the lecture. She could stay here for weeks studying the planet, but to what end? With her ship out of commission this was going to be her home for a while—at least until she could figure out how to contact the Union forces. This ship had no direct subspace link to Union Command, and her general access codes were more than six months old and therefore useless. The planet had passed the Five-Year Survey; it had to at least be livable.

  She swallowed the last of the coffee and stood, testing her legs. It would take months of rehabilitation to fully recover from her imprisonment, but it was time to look around. Opening the weapons cabinet, she withdrew an eight-gauge shotgun and slung it over her shoulder. She considered taking the .44-caliber handgun but decided against it. If there was anything out there the shotgun couldn't handle, the pistol wasn't going to help.

  These were the standard weapons for most transport vehicles and ground troops on both sides of the war. Laser and plasma hand weapons had been available for many years; but they were expensive and needed regular high-tech maintenance, and were generally assigned only to personnel on the larger battleships and carriers. Projectile weapons were dependable, easy to use and repair, and killed just as readily as lasers. They were also cheap to produce—an advantage not overlooked in a war that had spanned a century.

  Armed with the shotgun, Jeena opened the ship's outer hatch. There was a rush of escaping air and plumes of white mist as the cabin pressure equilibrated with the planet's atmosphere. Squinting in the brightness, she looked out on Ararat.

  The sun that greeted her was low on the horizon—it was still morning on the planet. The area immediately surrounding her ship was scrub—mainly dirt and twiggy bushes—that became an expanse of grass a hundred yards distant. The knee-high grass shifted softly in the warm breeze, a sea of yellow extending to the distant pale mountains to the north.

  To the west lay a vast desert, the sands rolling in undulating hills toward the horizon. The sky above her was less blue than she remembered on Earth, yet still imbued with that subtle aqua hue so intimately associated with all habitable worlds that it took an effort of will just to see it. A flock of alien birds, their for
ms unclear in the hazy sky, flew silently above her, heading off to the north.

  Jeena observed that the sky, like the horizon, seemed closer than they would have appeared on Earth—a visual confirmation that the planet was, indeed, smaller. Impulsively, she jumped from the ship, leaping over the steps and landing lightly on the ground. She felt a stab of pain shoot through her body. That was stupid, she thought, but the gravity was weaker.

  Standing on the soft yellow soil, she scanned the immediate area and breathed in the air of this new planet. The act made her cough and wince. There were no animals to be seen, but the air was heavy with the rich odors of life. The sweet scent of flowers mingled with the muskier, acrid smell of animals in a combination that was almost nauseating to someone used to filtered air and sterile environments.

  And yet ... there was something oddly familiar about it, a sense of déjà vu that brought her back to the Home, and the stables she had known as a child. It was not an unpleasant feeling, but she did not have time to dwell on it and turned her attention back to her ship.

  It had the general shape of a wedge, with the tram the forward tip. Behind it, the huge engines and Drive extended two hundred feet and rose steadily to a height of forty feet at the engine exhausts. The Earth weight of the transport was fifty thousand tons, forty-five thousand of which was the singularity cell—a miniscule ball of incomprehensively dense matter the size of a grain of sand buried within the Drive. It was the manipulation of the singularity that produced the “warp” in the space-time continuum that made interstellar travel possible.

  The hull of the vessel was charred black and steaming, the heat of re-entry still radiating from it. The nose of the tram was buried in the ground, the windshield covered by a thick layer of dirt. There was no sign of fore or aft landing gear. The immense engines and Drive lay in a deep furrow that extended half a mile behind.